Rush

Dree was right when she said only one of us, Saint Cyprian or Palatine, was going to rise out of the ashes of what happened to us. I did hard time for what I believed was right. Even if the band could never tour or release another album, or everyone believed I’m nothing but a thug, I’d do it all again. But we’re here, we’re loved, and Palatine and Striker are less than dirt. And damn, victory sure tastes sweet.

Forty minutes later, Dree and the others come off stage, sweating and grinning and I pass them all bottles of water and cups of beer. “Fuck me, guys, that was terrific.”

Dree’s bouncing on her toes as she sips her water, her face alive with happiness. “That was so much fun! I can see how you get addicted to this.”

I kiss her nose and laugh. “Better conserve that energy, babygirl. You’re going out there again in thirty minutes.”

I keep an eye on her as I talk to Anders, because the last few months have been tough on her. She’s had to give evidence in court against someone who nearly destroyed her, and won. Striker’s facing two years in prison, with more to come if the other charges stick. Dree’s faced her hardest moments with so much strength, and I’m so proud of her.

The lineup for the main stage for the rest of the night is Itch Scratch and then Saint Cyprian. This is a new feeling, feeling like we own a stage for a whole damn night instead of having to share it with acts from other labels.

As I look around at all my people, the musicians, the singers, our entourage of assistants and makeup artists and technicians, a sense of completion goes through me. This is where I’m meant to be, and I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing.

When Itch Scratch go out on stage, Dree and two other girls go with them, but Rin stays at my side. The choreography Dree put together for this set is out of his league, but he’s content to drink beer and cheer for them. The set is slick and full of attitude. Jasminta and Cassie are fantastic, but I can’t take my eye off Dree as she moves.

Ninety minutes later, the sun has set and the crowd is restless in front of the empty stage. I pull Dree into my arms and smile down at her, remembering holding her like this at the side of the stage at Glastonbury.

“How do you feel, babygirl?”

Her face is alight with happiness. “Powerful. Amazing. This is the best feeling ever.”

“You got that right. Wish us luck, and that I don’t get arrested when I come offstage this time.”

She laughs and kisses me. “I won’t let them. I’ll hide you under my dress.” Her face becomes serious, and she strokes her fingers through my hair. “I’m so proud of you. You went through so much and you’re even better now.”

“You too, baby. Stronger together.”

“Always.”

I give her a final kiss and we head out on stage. The applause and screams break over us like a wave and the blazing lights hit our bodies.

“Hello, Berlin! How are you all doing tonight?” Their response is a cacophony of screams, and I grin out at them, striking a chord on my guitar. “Did you miss me?”

Apparently, they did miss us, because they go wild as we start playing a track from the new album. The energy is intense. In between songs, I glance to the side of the stage and see that Dree’s there, watching.

We reprise “Not Only,” and a figure in white walks out onto the stage. I lay my guitar aside and meet her while the rest of the band plays. A ripple of energy goes through the crowd and a cheer goes up as they recognize Dree’s costume from the video. Half a dozen dancers in white dresses join us and we perform part of Dree’s choreography, including the lifts. I hold Dree up over my head and then bring her back down into my arms.

My sweet little dancer who fell at my feet when we first met. I won’t ever let her fall again. I put my lips close to her ear and murmur, “Say you’re mine, babygirl.”

Those words that once made her run from me now draw her closer, all the way into my heart.

She smiles at me, her beautiful face turned up to mine. “I’m all yours, Daddy. Forever.”