Squashed and packed in, we were headbanging, screaming the lyrics along with our heroes. No longer were they our boyfriends, our lovers, and best friends, and a baby brother. They were our gods, shining their brilliance upon us, flooding our hearts and ears with the sounds of their souls.
“Addicted Masochist.”
“Adopted Son.”
“Broken Deviant.”
“A Madman’s Love Letter.” I nearly died when Phil went all out with that performance. At the end of Love Letter, Phil grabbed a water bottle and chugged. The guys relaxed. It was audience-interaction time.
“Hey, everyone! You all havin’ a good time tonight?” Phil asked, a little winded. He was sweating and smiling, stealing my heart all over again.
The crowd screamed their approval.
Phil laughed. “Surprise!”
The crowd screamed harder and louder than ever.
“Have you guys noticed anything different? We found our long-lost little brother!” said Phil, strutting up to Connor and slinging his arm around my brother’s shoulders. “Everyone, it is my very great privilege to introduce to you the new guy in our lineup. Connor say, ‘Wassup,’ to your heathen brethren.”
“Wassup, everyone!” Connor smiled, high on stage fumes.
The masses cried out to their newest leader.
“As you all may have heard,” Phil continued, walking back to the front of the stage. “we’re workin’ on some new sounds for our next album. We have this idea in our head that we need to push things further, try out some new shit. We got a few things we’d like for you all to hear. You guys up for givin’ your boys your honest opinion?”
“Yes!” Alys and I screamed with everyone else.
“Awesome. But not just yet. Connor’s itchin’ to play all the stuff he missed out on these last five years. Aren’t you?”
Connor cheered off-mic, and the audience cheered with him.
“It’s cherry-poppin’ time for little brother!” shouted Phil.
They went straight into three more of their beloved classics.
“This is the shit!” yelled Jimi.
We were sweaty, amped up, and aching sweetly in the man-swamp. There were some other chicks here, too. We weren’t the only ones. We attempted to catch our breaths before the next song came up.
Fuck, Our Boys rocked hard.
Alys and I exchanged blissed-out grins as Phil started talking again. It made sense he did this every few songs to give Our Boys and the audience time to gather up their energy to continue.
Our view was even better now that the crowd had smooshed and shifted. From the stage, we were perhaps three, maybe four people deep. The burly rocker dude to the right and in front of us was the only obstacle really.
“So, I think we’re ready to unleash some of our new shit,” Phil said, looking out over the crowd. “And we’re totally—” He cut off and stared.
Fucking hell. He was staring straight at me!
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” exploded out of his mouth.
Grabbing Alys’s hand, I yanked her down behind the burly dude.
“Too fuckin’ late, Baby Girl! I fuckin’ saw you!”
Alys groaned in defeat next to me.
Around us, the crowd had stilled, and there were a few titters and chuckles.
“And I fuckin’ see that massive-ass ’fro, Jimi!”
The burly dude looked behind him and then down at us. He gave us a shy grin and reached down, lifting me to my feet. Phil was up there, crouched down, sitting back on his haunches, elbows resting on his knees, pointing at me.
“Kenna, you’re gonna be the death of me, I fuckin’ swear.”
The crowd started laughing. Phil wasn’t. His angry face was well fixed, and his eyes were flashing hellfire.
He turned his face, scanning the audience, and then brought the microphone back up to his mouth. “My woman is a hardcore fan. And I guess, like any other hardcore fan, she wants to be front and fuckin’ center.” He looked back over at me.
Alys was still crouched, no doubt praying she wouldn’t be busted, too.
“Is Alys with her?” X stormed up to Jason’s mic, his face thunderous. Forgetting his fear of microphones, he bellowed “Alys!”
“Damn it,” she grumbled from the floor.
Burly dude’s burly friend hefted her up.
“This one?” the guy shouted to the guys up on the stage.
“Goddamn it, woman!” X roared.
The audience erupted into laughter.
Great. All we’d wanted was to enjoy a show, and now, we were a fucking joke.
Phil crooked his finger at me, and the crowd in front of us parted. Burly One and Burly Two actually escorted Alys and me to the barricade in front of the stage.
“What the fuck, Baby Girl?”
“What the fuck what?” I shouted back.
“What do you think you’re doin’, comin’ down here?”