Bounce (39 page)

I got behind the idea immediately, which started a flurry of activity as each of us reached out to our social networks. I went right to Adam's house, to see my parents. Dad was there; he'd arrived in LA while I was in the Virgin Islands. When I told him what we were doing, he made some calls and got us the venue for tonight, Norman's, which is closed for remodels. That easy. Hey, sometimes it's nice to be a Blackwood. None of us cared if we played on plywood, or if the walls were unpainted Sheetrock. We had a venue.

The audience gathering outside right now is all family and friends, anyone who's rallying to the call we put out last night. Emilio's music students and people from the film crew have showed up. Some of the Boomerang people are here. Nora's yoga class is taking a night off, and I think Shane said his dentist just showed up. It's random and awesome. Totally personal. I think we're almost at two hundred people. Not bad for a day's notice.

And as it's turned out, Norman's is looking pretty swag. Saul, from sound, is finishing up all the amp hookups for us right now out on “the stage,” which is really the platform where the raised bar will eventually go. Last I checked, Danny and Alfredo, the grips, were out there setting up lights under the guidance of the director of photography, who's offered to film the show for us. Bernadette and Kaitlin were out there with some of the set designers rigging up colored canvas sheets. About an hour ago, Ethan and Beth were out there holding panels and hammering nails for them. There's more, too. Mom and Ali were running down some catering. Dad and Adam were on drinks/bar. Mia, as usual, was putting out fires.

About an hour ago, Rez even got some calls from a couple of the local bands we know offering to be our opening act. We have that one covered, though, so they'll be coming just to enjoy the show. It's crazy how many people want to help us. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it, but I'm not going to question it. Just letting the good times roll.

What we've ended up with is an aged-up-music-recital-slash-private-party. Kind of funny. Kind of not showcase-y. But cool. Already, it's really, really cool. And it makes sense that these people, who mean something to us, will be the ones to hear us play at the height of our ability, exactly how we know we're supposed to sound.

Good stuff.

Emilio swings the door open. “Your girl's on in five, Blackwood.”

I head out of the small room and find Skyler standing behind a canvas panel that separates the stage from the rest of the club. She's holding her electric cello, talking to Beth and Mia, and has her back turned to me.

Walking up, I wrap my arms around her and bend to her ear. “Hey, beautiful. You ready?”

It's loud in here. The whole place is thrumming with the energy of dozens and dozens of people enjoying themselves, laughing, knotting new friendships from our social web. The sound the crowd's making has a warm vibe. It's different than when we play our regular gigs.

Skyler leans against me, tipping her head up. She's wearing heels, but I can still look right into her eyes this way. “Kiss me,” she says, “and I will be.”

I turn her in my arms, and we somehow manage to hold on to the cello and kiss. As always, we get carried away.

“Oh-kay. I guess I'll just go find Ethan?” Mia says.

Skyler and I laugh. “You're feeling well enough?” I ask, brushing her soft pink hair behind her ear. Just three days ago, she was in a hospital, hooked up to an IV. And it's not like I've let her catch up on sleep. I've been teasing her lately, telling her that's what she gets for dating a younger guy. Bigger appetite. Just thinking about being alone with her, touching her, the way she looks and sounds and tastes . . . ​what she does to me . . . ​
everything
. No way I'll ever get enough of her. Ever.

“I feel great,” she says. “Don't worry, Grey. I really do. Actually, I can't wait to play.”

“Okay. You're going to kill it.”

“So will you.”

She rises onto her toes and gives me one more kiss, and then she takes her cello, and moves onto the stage. A cheer goes up from the crowd, and Sky does a little curtsy, some of Emma still in her, I guess, but then she grins, that perfect, disarming smile that's completely genuine, and about as un-movie-star as can be. She plugs into the amp then moves to the microphone stand, and goes still, finding her focus. Her hands settle on the bow and the strings, and then she's off.

Watching her play from my spot “offstage” is something I know right away I'll never forget. What can be better than seeing someone you care about lose themselves so completely in art, in bliss? I never had this feeling, watching her act. It feels like a privileged position. I'm so proud of her . . . ​so proud of who she is, and
flying
that she's chosen to be with me. That's when it hits me.

I
love
her.

Wow.

Then I'm just tearing up like a total freakin' asshole, trying not to lose it even more.

She moves to another song, with notes that rise like a story, like triumph, and my heart almost busts open when she glances at me. We're making a story now. Together. I know that's what she's telling me.

When she plays the last song and takes her bow, the roar that goes up actually makes me wonder if we'll have cops knocking on the door with a noise complaint. Good thing we have a half dozen lawyers out there to handle things if that happens.

I pull her right back into my arms as she comes off the stage. “How'd that feel?”

“So good. So, so good.” There are tears in her eyes. There's relief and joy in them, too. “I love you, Grey.”

“
What?
Come on!
I
was going to say that.”

“Right now you were?”

“Yes! I was getting to it. I can't believe you just trumped me.”

She laughs. “You can still say it. I mean . . . ​I'd still love to hear it.”

“I love you, Skyler. You're incredible. I never thought—”

“Are you guys seriously doing this right now?”

Titus looks like he wants to kill me. The rest of the guys look less friendly.

“What? You guys want to play music or something? Shit! Let's play some music!”

I wink at Sky, and head out to the stage with my band. The club looks incredible. I hadn't seen the completed, jerry-rigged transformation yet, but it's a combination of blue and white canvas, and dramatic lighting. It feels like being in a wave—and that's a place where I'm totally comfortable.

In the front of the small stage, I see my parents. First row of the audience. Mom's outfit—jeans and a leather jacket—makes me smile. It's probably what she considers “rock concert appropriate.” Dad, who was just eyeing the club remodel with the eye of a true entrepreneur, breaks into a huge grin when he sees me and yells, “That's my kid!” to no one who doesn't already know this.

Adam and Ali are right there. Ethan, Mia, and Beth. Skyler, who darts out and joins them. And so it goes, row after row of more friends. People from the film crew, friends of the guys, family members, girlfriends. I see Brooks in the back. Garrett stands near him. He blows me a kiss then he leans toward a guy standing between him and Brooks, saying something.

I've only seen the guy in pictures online, but I know who he is.

Vogelson.

Rez, Titus, Emilio, and Shane see him, too. They've met him before. I'm the only one who hasn't. Yet.

We look at each other, grinning. After all the bullshit and heartache, wouldn't you just know it? He's here. But I think we all sort of feel kind of
fuckit
about things. We're here to play music. Everyone we care about is here. Plus Shane's dentist. Vogelson can kiss my ass if he doesn't like us.

I don't know if that's the feeling that powers me as we start in. Freedom. Or fearlessness. Zingyness? A steely finish? Who the hell knows? It doesn't matter. What matters is that I sing with every cell in my body. I sing my goddamn heart out. I sing about the love I wish I'd had in my life. The love I did always have and never appreciated until recently. And the new love in my life, the one that makes me feel like I can soar like a hawk.

My brother is in my voice. His unconditional love and support. Titus. Shane, Rez, and Emilio—the brothers I've picked up myself. Beth and Bernadette and Kaitlin and Nora . . . ​who've all helped me get here in ways big and small. Skyler.

Skyler Beautiful Skyler.

Everyone's
in my voice. I'm who I am because of all of them. And showing them that, letting them into that, is what I do on the stage. I open up, and bring them in.

We go through the set, building an experience for the audience. We play “Runner,” and it's our first time performing it live, but it goes perfectly. Better than in rehearsals. One by one, we go through our songs. Nine of them, all original. It feels like it happens in under a minute, but I know I've been up here for almost an hour. With only one more to go, I pause to regroup. It feels like coming out of a trance.

I'm sweating, I realize. I'm thirsty. I feel invincible.

I grab a bottle of water and take a sip, then look around me. The guys are right there with me. This is it. This is us. All the hard work, the rehearsals, the ups and downs . . . ​it's all worth it because of this. This moment. This feeling.

Without meaning to, I look toward the back of the club. Brooks is easy to find—he's still there. But I don't see Garrett. I don't see
Vogelson
. And I know that's who I was looking for, despite myself.

Whatever. Screw him.

I come back to the microphone stand, and the applause dies down. It's hot in here. Someone's brought in huge fans in the back of the club. I hadn't even noticed. They make the canvas sheets billow, make the light roll with the material in a way that's hypnotic . . . ​We're all of us at sea. Free here, in this space. Open. I'm open in a way I've never allowed myself to be.

The whir of the fans is the only sound I hear. I don't hear two hundred people breathing, but it's almost like I
feel
them. Our connection is what I feel. Like everyone in this room has been stripped down to the most honest parts of what it means to be human. We're experiencing life together through music. I'm making that happen. The band and I, we're doing this.

I freakin' love it.

I take the microphone and find Skyler in the audience. “For this next song, our last one tonight, I want to bring up someone you've heard already. Someone who's special to me. This song exists because of her. And, uh . . . ​I'm starting to think I do, too. What do you say, Sky? Want to help us out?”

She of course jumps up onstage to cheers and whistles. And it's as I watch her grab her cello that I see Garrett standing there, too, with Vogelson. Garrett grins his ass off and shamelessly points at Vogelson, then gives me the thumbs-up and starts the whole thing over. Point, thumbs-up, point, thumbs-up.

Vogelson sees all of this, of course, and laughs. I guess when you're Garrett Allen you get away with shit most people can't. Vogelson tips his chin, acknowledging me. The look in his eyes says, “I like what I've seen,” and, “Let's work together.”

I don't think I'm imagining it, because I hear Shane behind me. “Oh my
God
!” he yells, and pounds a quick, furious beat on the drums that's made of so much pressurized celebration, it's borderline aggressive.

Skyler takes the cello from Saul and comes over. “That looks promising.”

I can't even focus on that right now. I'll have to process that later. “
You
look promising,” I say, pulling her in for a quick kiss that draws a dozen catcalls from the audience.

“Now,” I say. “What do you say we blow the roof off this place?”

  
Acknowledgments
  

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irst, and always, thanks so much to our amazing readers and supportive bloggers for all of your kind words, support, and enthusiasm. You are the best, plain and simple.