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Authors: Kevin Emerson

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BOOK: Encore to an Empty Room
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Formerly Orchid @catherinefornevr 2m

Burgers accomplished! Now to see Supreme Commander! Hurry to the Meltdown! You don't want to miss a note!

Caleb is quiet on the walk back to the stage. We all are.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Just a far comet,” he says, and pulls me closer. “Good idea, talking to Vic. That makes the whole blog thing a little easier to take. Maybe that graphic they used is the right one, after all.”

“No, it's still obnoxious, but yes, talking to Vic helped. Except in the learning-anything-immediately-helpful department. We still need some kind of solid lead.”

We reach the plaza just as the Commander is taking the stage, and head to the back of the crowd, near the soundboard, where you can always hear everything best.

“Nice, you made it!” Maya says, a little more zealous than I wish she'd be. She throws her arms around Matt and I catch that slight hesitance from him again. The way his shoulders stiffen . . . He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it, but it's definitely there.

“Of course,” I say, humoring Maya with a smile.

“How were the burgers?” she asks.

“Fine,” says Matt, and as he does our eyes meet for a moment. Because Maya interns at Candy Shell Records, we decided a while ago that we can't tell her about the lost songs. It's not because we don't trust her. More because we don't want to put her in a position where she'd ever have to lie to Jason Fletcher, her boss and our nemesis. But then, maybe 1 percent because I don't trust her not to accidentally spill it.

Still, I always feel a little sucky when Matt and I are around her and there's this
thing
we can't talk about. It's not really a lie. Just an omission. But sometimes I wonder if, in a way, that's worse. It just sits there between us like dark matter, unseen but deadly.

Luckily, Supreme Commander takes the stage and our attention is focused there. They play a great set. They've matured into a solid three piece and are getting tighter all the time.

As they finish, Maya heads backstage but we stay by the board.

“I can't wait to see this,” says Jon as the next band, Freaktastique, takes the stage.

RIP Freak Show, Mount Hope's hottest band from September to November of this year. The band that once nearly derailed Dangerheart at the Trial by Fire. They were doing great, rising fast, when one day their electric front man, Alejandro, who'd been living with his aunt, had to move back to his dad's in San Diego. And then Cybil, who we all thought was in love with the bassist, Trevor, quit to form an all-ukulele band with her girlfriend. Trevor and the drummer, Lane, have soldiered on, but neither of them looks happy now.

It's crazy how many things can derail a band. When there's not band drama, there's life drama. Sometimes it seems like half the key to making it in music is just keeping your band alive long enough.

Their first song begins with Lane dropping a pretty deep groove, over which Trevor plays broken glass guitar. It's got a cool feel and a sharp attitude . . . but then the two of them start singing in unison falsetto:

When we are wearing sweaters
Along the banks of the Seine
I wish we could share a bed at the hostel
But you're on the girls' side, and I'm on the men's

“I feel bad for them,” says Caleb.

Ooooh ooh ooh you can ride on my handlebars

“It's kind of catchy,” says Matt.

We watch two songs and then go for candy cane cookies. By the time we're back to our spot, Freaktastique is wrapping up, and we all get a little quiet. I can sense a buzz in the crowd as the next band takes the stage.

It's a good thing that Freak Show fell apart, because at Mount Hope High, there's already another new band gunning for top status. Dangerheart may be the headliner at this show, but this next band has arrived in a big way, considering this is only their second show ever.

All Hail Minions! didn't even exist at the start of the school year, but they almost immediately became the second-biggest band at school. And the reason is simple:

Molly Inez is really, really hot.

And I'm not just talking about her looks, which are bordering on surreal—she's been on the local modeling scene since we were all in middle school—it's also her singing and musicianship. She's a senior and even as recently as last year, she was one of those strange creatures at Mount Hope: a musician
not
in the PopArts. She was a classical pianist studying composition and theory in the sad, out-of-date music classrooms in the old wing of the building. But then she came out of nowhere at the homecoming gig with All Hail Minions!, trading in the baby grand piano and cocktail dresses for a slick Nord keyboard, pink hair, fishnets, and a leather jacket.

“Evenin', everybody,” says Molly in her strangely
effective country twang. “We are . . .”

The crowd finishes for her and she pumps her fist to each word. “All! Hail! Minions!”

Molly lays down a buzzing synthesizer part. The rest of her band is pure adrenaline, too. Nicky, the drummer, is the only boy. He plays with these light-up neon sticks. Deena, on bass, always wears silver jumpsuits. They play to prerecorded tracks of guitar and percussion and space sounds, and when Molly starts to sing it's like she's growling. The whole thing seems like it should be happening on a spaceship to Mars.

We all watch, arms crossed like typical musicians, and yet, I'm a little entranced. Can't help it. Molly casts a spell.

Until I hear Val groan. “Ugh.” She's looking past me, and I turn to see a grinning face heading through the crowd, like a shark emerging from the deep.

“There they are!”

Of course, it's Jason Fletcher. “Hey there, Dangerheart.” Jason is in his mid-twenties and always has that professionally unshaven look. Older women probably find him cute but to us he's all smarm. Tonight he's wearing a bright pink scarf with his long black coat and a black fedora-style hat. He waves a hand at the Minions. “So, what do you guys think of my new stars?”

None of us respond to his question.

But of course, Jason doesn't care. “Man, I love signing a new band and then going to see them and they're awesome!”
He holds up a hand as if any of us would high-five him.

“Yeah . . .” He pulls his hand back, unfazed. “I just got word that these guys will be on the Adrenaline Energy Drink Fresh Faces tour this summer.” He sighs dramatically. “That's what can happen when you work
with
your record label friend, and not against him.”

“I thought you were going to be getting us some opening gigs,” I say to Jason. “Not that we even want them.”

“Yeah, except that you do.” Wow, nothing can slow Jason down tonight. “I know, Kellen wanted me to put you on the next leg of the Sundays on Mars tour, but they all agree that All Hail Minions! makes more sense. Just look at them . . . definitely worth the advance money we gave them.”

He takes a second to gaze at the band, and then turns to me, smiling wide. “You want to know how much.”

“I really don't.” That's a lie, but I am not going to give him the satisfaction of telling us.

“One million,” he says anyway. “Nonrefundable advance.”

Jon whistles. And I see that everyone else's faces have turned to stone. I feel my heart racing, falling prey to the lure of that number, so shiny . . .

“Well, I hope you've learned something from Postcards,” I say, mainly just to say something. I've been watching how Jason treated his last big signing, my ex-boyfriend Ethan's band Postcards from Ariel. Their first EP isn't doing well.
Show attendance isn't great. Of course he definitely didn't give Postcards a million freaking dollars.

“I'm always learning,” says Jason. “Speaking of which, anything new I should be learning about Dangerheart? Any lost tapes of Eli White I should be aware of?”

“Not a one,” I say.

Jason sighs. “That's a shame. Well, gotta run. We're doing an interview segment after the Minions set for the NewBeat YouTube channel.
Adiós
, Dangerheart. Don't be strangers.”

Nobody says anything for a minute. When Minions finishes their next song, Jon says:

“A million. Dollars.”

“I hate to say it, but the Fresh Faces lineup is pretty cool this year,” Val adds.

I want to say something dismissive about how Jason will mess it up, but it will just sound petty. Besides, a million bucks at least means that Candy Shell is really paying attention.

And it's weird to watch the Minions set after that news. Hard not to judge them, even harder to resist the urge to pick them apart as they rip through one catchy, dancy song after another. I even find myself hoping they'll mess up.

When Molly announces their last song, we head backstage to get ready. Caleb has been quiet. “Don't let it rattle you,” I say. Maybe I'm talking to myself, too.

“What, Minions?” he says. “I'm fine. They do their
thing and we do ours. Pluto strong.” He smiles, almost fully.

I stop him before we get backstage and pull him close for a kiss. They're not electric anymore, after three months, not shocks to the system, but in a way they are better, like a slow rising wave that you pleasantly sink into, washing away the sounds of the world. Plus, after three months, our kisses tend to lead to other places, and I feel squirmy and warm inside at the thought of those things. It's all I can do to pull back from him now, and pat his chest.

“Just be you.” It's what I always tell him, because with all the forces spinning around us, sometimes that seems like the hardest thing to remember.

Once onstage, the band plugs in, Matt adjusts the drums, and they do a quick line check, testing each microphone and instrument to make sure the sounds are working.

Caleb has donned a floppy Santa hat, and it makes his face a little elfish, but somehow his eyes gleam more and that's unbearably cute. Also he's wearing a maroon T-shirt I got him that fits almost too well. It makes his slim Caleb muscles stand out and suddenly I can't believe I let him onstage looking this hot in front of all these girls except then I remember that's a good thing and try to take a breath.

“Hey, we're Dangerheart,” says Caleb, and then Matt immediately counts off. They open with a brand-new song called “I've Been Waiting,” one of Val's, and it's great because it's high energy and Caleb gets a little breather onstage to warm up. It always takes him a minute to balance
his nervous energy with the thrill of being onstage, to center himself in the moment. Val, on the other hand, just flips a switch and she is in full rock mode the second any show starts.

She's at her typical best tonight, bobbing hard while she plays, snapping up to the mic and barking her lyrics like they're a burden she wants to be done with, like she just wants to get lost, to
be
the music. Scowling, clear-eyed, and with that aggression that makes you ever so slightly afraid. She's been the subject of a lot of online chatter this fall, mostly good. A fan favorite for some, and there is discussion about whose songs are better between hers and Caleb's. Sometimes it turns into a Lennon versus McCartney type debate. There's also the talk of whether she's hot, is it sexy how she stands when she plays bass and stuff, and it can get lewd like anything can online, but Val ignores it.

The crowd has grown since we arrived, and they seem really into it. I see heads start to bob, start to move, wave in time with the beat.

The set is great, totally solid. They save “On My Sleeve” for nearly last. There are actual cheers when Caleb starts the guitar part. As they hit the final, triumphant crescendo and slip into the quiet refrain that ends the song, I can hear people singing along. Excellent.

They end to big applause.

“Thanks,” says Caleb. I can see he's grinning. “You guys have been great. We've just got one more for you—”

“Allegiance to North!” someone shouts from the crowd.

Uh-oh. I see Caleb flinch at this.

“Woo!” another person calls.

“Play ‘The Sound of Your Smile'!” This gets a cheer from the crowd. That's Allegiance's big hit from
Into the Ever & After
.

I can see Caleb trying to decide what to say, and slowly clamping down into Fret Face. I was afraid of this. The other gigs that we've played since the news broke have been on school campus, and kids have been really cool about not doing exactly this thing, but out here, in the wilds of the public . . .

There's a little lick of guitar and I see Jon smirking as he plays a quick snippet of the riff from “Excuses in Technicolor,” another of Allegiance's biggest hits.

This gets a cheer from a few people in the crowd. But it also draws a glare from Caleb.

Oh boy.

“Allegiance!” someone starts to chant, clapping to the syllables. A few others join in. It's not too many, but it's enough.

“Ha ha,” Caleb mutters. “Hey, you know what—” I can hear the anger in his voice and if there was any way I could leap up to that stage and stop him—

But then Val is right there beside him, whispering in his ear. His shoulders slump, but he nods, and then turns away from the mic. Val returns to her own mic and says, “Hey,
everybody, who loves Allegiance to North?” There is a decent cheer from the crowd. The younger kids in attendance probably don't even know who that is.

“All right!” says Val. “Well, if you like them, then shut up because you're going to love this song by Dangerheart. That's us, by the way. The band currently on the stage in front of you playing our asses off. This is our last song. One two three—”

She starts to sing “Catch Me” and the one or two people who react poorly to Val's “shut up” comment are drowned out by her daring, confident first line, and then the band explodes in.

BOOK: Encore to an Empty Room
10.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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