Play Mine (Brooklyn Dawn #3) - Cari Quinn Page 0,108

exaggerated side-eye. “Which one?”

“Hmm.” Lindsey touched her cheek with one long, glitter-tipped finger. “Neil Diamond?”

Jamie wrinkled her nose. “Not tonight. Maybe later.”

Oz came forward with his heavy bass. “How about…ID?” He turned to Cooper. “Yeah?”

Cooper slapped his sticks hard and they bounced up with a double flip before he snatched them out of the air and the bass-heavy “Radioactive” reverberated through the mostly empty arena.

“Wait a minute.” I stood up on my bench. “There is no way we’re doing that song without a houseful of people.”

Oz’s hair fell forward as he pouted.

Lindsey came around to her piano, and I stepped up to my other keyboard rig where I could pull other instruments in with electronic magic. Her voice was bright and true. Freddie Mercury would be proud of the range and the epic scope of her performance.

I moved back to my piano as the guitar solo for “The Show Must Go On” became one layer on another as Jamie and Zane put their own spin on Brian May’s intricate guitar style. My wrists sang with the force of my fingers on the keys as I raced with them and got caught up in the theater of the song.

Then Lindsey took center stage and fell to her denim-clad knees. She was a cone of starlight with her glittery blond curls flowing behind her and her back arched to give it all. She held the last note and it seemed to go on and on.

Jamie was bent over her guitar, her flame-licked black hair curtained around her face as her fingers tore up and down the fret board. She was the fire to Lindsey’s ice. They were yin and yang in the best possible way on stage.

The crowd screamed as loudly as an arena full of people as we brought the song to a close.

I was laughing when Lindsey turned and beckoned me forward. I ran to my family and clasped hands with Jamie, and then Cooper flanked my other side so we could do our bows.

Because the fans were right there, and the excitement was still vibrating through the room, we started signing anything they put in front of us.

Selfies and vids and tears were plentiful. By the time we finished, every fan got their signature or special moment because I was almost certain none of us wanted the night to end either.

Finally, we waved our goodbyes and promised the audience a matching show tomorrow night.

I grinned as the tension I’d carried in my shoulders for days eased. No matter what we had to face in this crazy world we lived in, the show would go on. Today had proved that.

Not just for the band but for me too.

Twenty-Three

Time on the road meant very little. Traveling on the bus made the passage of time even less obvious. It took me back to the earlier days of touring, though that bus was very different than the rolling palace we had now. But the sense of family was stronger than ever.

I doubted there were other tour buses like ours. Well, Ripper buses anyway.

Warning Sign needed just as much space as we did. While their danger level didn’t seem to be the same as ours right now, they’d had their fair share of tragedy in the past. Their band’s painful history didn’t help our situation either. Security seemed to always be looming around all of us like a black cloud, just far enough in the distance that we kept trying to outrun the storm.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been trapped with the band for this long. As the tours grew in size, so did our spaces. Buses had become planes and hotel rooms. And while I had always appreciated being on my own between shows, I couldn’t say I hated this new life.

Maybe it was the way we were gelling, or maybe it was just because I was a besotted idiot. But instead of going to our separate rooms after a show, we ended up congregating in the large living space below.

Hell, we were even writing nightly. New music was pouring out of us until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes a few of the Warning Sign peeps even jammed with us.

Molly and Lindsey were cultivating a duet for the annual Christmas album Logan King put together for charity. Luc Moreau, the co-lead singer from Warning Sign, and Oz bonded over workouts when we convinced Noah to let us out of our cages. There seemed to be a gym every square