Chapter 21
Watching the shows from the sidelines of a theater or arena was a rush. The music surrounded me, it felt like I was right in the middle, playing along. It made me feel special, important that I was allowed to see them from an angle most didn't. I could see their muscles working and see their sweat on the stage.
Having the same position in a huge open-air stadium was completely different.
The stars shone down and the fingernail moon let soft wisps of clouds hang out to listen to the deafening thunder of sound that swallowed me whole. Everything was bigger–the amps, the music, the lights, the crowd… Edward.
Edward with his eyes closed as he played his heart out was a mind-altering experience. There was no one on earth more extraordinary when he was doing what he loved. Gone were the snide remarks, the venomous looks, the fire-breathing. The weird, stomach-churning questions.
It had always been that way for me. There was something about their music, about him, that just got me deep in the guts and I knew I'd never love another band as much as them. I also knew I'd compare all men to the beauty of him.
The chords started for "Feast of Many" and even though I knew the set list and knew it was next, the first few notes made my pulse quicken in anticipation.
Emmett sidled up to me and did that knee behind the knee thing, almost knocking me over. I knew both of us put this song up in our top five so I wasn't very surprised to see him. He'd joined me before. "Got a break?" I asked as I swatted at him.
The lights dimmed, the spotlight focused on Edward, his lips touched the mic in preparation for his words to come lilting out of this mouth.
"Gary knows I love this one. Besides, not much for me to do until the show is over."
He knocked his shoulder into mine and I grinned up at him, happy to have him here with me. He slung his arm over my shoulder and we looked back to the stage.
Edward stopped the opening chords. His fingers started playing a different song. The song from the dressing room. The one he'd been toying with.
I looked at the band and they were right there with him, kind of just playing and keeping up. They had been together so long, they all knew how to play together on a whim.
The crowd kept their groove, churning, moving, yelling through chords that weren't recognizable. All eyes on Edward. The man could lift one arm and send them into a frenzy.
Edward started humming into the mic, matching his chords and then harmonizing against them. His eyes closed, he swayed to his own music.
He looked up, kept humming, smiled, and played to the worshippers before him.
And then, he turned.
And looked right at me.
"Oh baby, baby, baby," he sang and my body went steel rod tight.
I didn't move, didn't breathe. I knew my face was flaming red. Embarrassment, shame.
Awe.
He kept strumming softly, the guys following quietly. His eyes did not leave mine.
Not once.
My whole body was shaking.
Holy.
Mother.
Fucker.