She was at the mic and singing a slow, “Oh yeah”.
Her eyes moved then locked on someone in the crowd and I knew without looking where her gaze was directed. I knew without looking that she was going to sing to Mace.
Like she did a few months ago when she sang Hank Wil iams.
And, just like then, after she started singing, it hurt to listen.
But it was a beautiful pain.
I knew it hurt her to sing it just as it hurt me to hear it. She poured feeling into every song she sang but that song…
that song, she poured her soul into it and the entire club felt it. And, in a club-wide moment of shared, stunned reverence, we were al dead silent while we watched her communicate her pain.
It was arresting. As the song wove through the crowd, the lyrics a gentle assault, we al stood frozen and watched.
Then, as if from nowhere, Mace was onstage, his long legs eating the distance as he came at her. We watched as he pul ed her away from the mic, tore her guitar from her hands and then he was kissing her.
I sucked in breath at the sight of it.
It was a hungry kiss, a hard kiss, a kiss meant to be private but instead it was very, very public. I felt the kiss stirring in my bel y even though I knew I should look away.
I didn’t look away.
I couldn’t.
The crowd started to cheer, to scream, to stomp their feet.
I didn’t want to cheer. I wanted to cry but bizarrely, I also wanted to laugh.
Before I could give into either of these emotions, I saw the little red dot dancing between Stel a and Mace’s bodies.
Someone had a laser light.
Through the music-induced stupor I felt annoyance claw at me.
Who could witness this passionate emotional display and jack around with a laser light?
Then I heard Duke’s gravel y voice shout, “Gun!” Um… gun?
It came to me that wasn’t a laser light and my body jerked. As if I wasn’t in control of my own actions, instead of running or throwing myself to the ground (both of which would have been smarter), I turned to look behind me and saw Tex throwing people out of his way as he lumbered through the crowd toward a target.
“Down!” Shirleen yel ed.
I whirled back to face the stage and saw the laser light go up sharply to a point several feet over Pong’s head then I was on the floor, Shirleen’s body on top of mine.
Then the gunshots rang out.
I heard screams, shouts, running feet; it was pandemonium at the Pal adium.
The gunshots stopped, Shirleen’s weight left me and she got up, leaned down, her fingers wrapped around my wrist and she pul ed me to my feet.
“Rendez-vous!” I heard Eddie shout and my eyes flew in the direction of his voice. I saw him, gun out, other hand pointing to me. I also saw a man on the floor, Tex over him with a knee in his back. Tex had the man’s arm twisted behind him, the crowd giving them a wide berth. Further, I saw Luke had a rifle, he tossed it to Wil ie then his eyes sliced to the Rock Chicks and focused on Ava.
That’s al I saw. Hector’s arm was around my waist and he was pul ing me away. Vance was there, so were Duke, Ike and Bobby. Al of the boys had their guns in their hands and they were herding the Rock Chicks toward the back of the club.
This was not easy. There were stil tons of people fighting, pushing and running, trying to force their way out but in the opposite direction. The Hot Bunch, big, strong and carrying guns, cleared a path, often resorting to tossing people out of the way to do it.
“Stel a and Mace!” Indy shouted and my eyes flew to the stage.