Rock 'n' Roll Baby
I check my emails to make sure no one new has reached out to me about the boys or if anyone has more questions. A few more people confirm they’ll be here tonight. I knew they’d get some response, but this is way beyond what I expected. Not only that, it’s happening a lot faster than I thought it would. My stomach sinks a little bit when I begin to think about what that truly means for Linc and me. I push those thoughts aside, knowing that even though I want to be selfish, I can’t.
“You look flushed.” Linc picks me up, setting me on his lap. I love outdoor gigs this time of year. The breeze coming off the lake feels good.
“I feel fine.” He runs his hand up and down my bare arm.
“You put the sunscreen on?”
“Yes, Dad,” Nick answers for me, dropping down into one of the other chairs.
“She’s got fair skin and can burn.” He kisses my bare shoulder where my shirt slipped off. “And she didn’t feel good this morning.”
“I promise I’m fine.” I look at him over my shoulder. “I think the pop tart I grabbed was bad or something.” I didn’t feel great this morning. I know better than to trust anything in the pantry at my house. It was either that or me being worked up about tonight. It was hard to concentrate in class all day.
“Yeah, did you see the cheeseburger she ate in two bites? I think she’s fine.” Benjy drops down in another chair, joining us.
“She stole my fries,” Nick adds in.
“You left them in the bag. I thought you were done.”
“I swear you can eat more than me sometimes.” I roll my eyes. No one eats more than any of them.
“Are you still hungry?” Linc starts to get up.
“Sit down. You’re not going anywhere. You’re going on in a little,” I remind him. They will not be late to this show.
“I’ll be quick,” he protests, wanting to go get me something.
“I’m fine,” I say for the third time.
“Wait. I don’t think chicks are really fine when they say they’re fine.”
“Benjy!” I shout. “You’re not helping me here.”
He smirks, knowing what he’s doing, which makes me laugh more. God, I’m going to miss this. I love these times when we all just hang out. It will be hard, but I can do it for them.
“I’m not hungry. Plus we’re going to the diner after.”
“The diner? What are we celebrating?” Nick asks. We always go to the diner after we have a really good night.
“I just know it’s going to be a good night. I can feel it.”
Chapter Seven
Linc
The energy is so good tonight. Despite it being a Wednesday, the crowd is packed and even though they didn’t know the songs at first, by the end of each one, they were singing the choruses with us. All of us feel it–Nick, Benjy and me. We played an unreal set and even as we stumble off the stage drunk with the enthusiasm of the crowd, our bodies are still buzzing as if we’re still attached to our instruments.
“Fucking amazing,” Benjy crows. The crew backstage whistles and claps for us. Benjy makes the horn sign with his pinky and index fingers. Nick flies down the stairs and starts giving out high-fives.
There’s a set of towels Cherry placed for us at the bottom of the risers. I grab one and wipe off a gallon of sweat. The echoes of the crowd still ring in my ears so I don’t hear the guy the first time he says my name. In fact, I don’t even notice him until he grabs my shoulder.
“Linc Bierman?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“I’m Andy–”
“Treat of Treats Records,” I blurt out.
The older man smiles. “That’s right. You’ve heard of me?”
I try to rein in my excitement so I’m not slobbering over him like a dumb old dog. Even though Andy Treat is wearing jeans ripped at the knees and a long-sleeved T-shirt pushed up to the elbows instead of a three-piece business suit like I envisioned every record exec lived in, he was still recognizable. Some guys looked at porn on their computer. I have photos saved of my favorite music people and Andy Treat is at the top of my fan list.
“Yeah. I follow your work.” Was that too eager? Fuck. I wasn’t this nervous the time I popped Cherry’s cherry.
“I hope I didn’t disappoint. I know musicians have a love/hate relationship with record labels.”
“Ah, nothing bad,” I manage to choke out. Treats Records is an indie label that has super generous terms with its artists. I don’t know why he’s here, but just standing next to him is giving me a contact high. “You scoping out an artist?” I’m not jealous at all. Not even one bit. Okay, maybe a small amount. I peer around him and try to find the musician he’s checking out. Like what does that guy have that I don’t? I bite on my tongue to keep from telling Treat I write all my own music. That’s not what sells these days. You have to have a concept or a platform or two million YouTube subscribers or something you can dance to on TikTok. I got none of those things.