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I just couldn’t go back to the camp with wet pants, yet nothing to fucking show for it.
And then when I woke up in an empty bed and rubbed another one off at the thought of her sweet,sweetbody wrapped around mine, I came to the venue and looked for her again.
Still nada.
“Yo, Fin.”
She does tattoos.
That means she’d be here.
“Newb.” Rex’s clipped tone and snapping fingers have my sight swinging from the growing crowd to his wild curls and deep scowl at the age-old nickname I’ve had since I joined the band. As the ‘newbie’.“You good?”
“It’s literally been a decade.” I roll my eyes and tweak the tuning peg, my fingers plucking absentmindedly to check the sound before plugging in and letting my fingers flutter over the strings of my Manson guitar. “Stop calling me that.”
The sound filters through the stage sound system, peaking the festival goers’ interest and getting thumbs up from the audio crew.
Placing a hand over the pickup, I stop the sound and turn to Rex with a cocked head when he whistles in my direction.
“You never answered me.” Rex’s shoulder nudges mine as he spins, his back to the still-growing mass just a few feet below us.
“About?”
“You disappeared last night, Newb.” Rex shrugs. “But then you came back. Not normal.”
I return his shrug and flick my sight from him to the people packing into the venue like sardines, watching us like hawks dead set on devouring any morsel of prey they can find, and my abs finally tighten in that weird rush of excitement.
“And then I disappeared again, but you were too busy trying to put a third baby in your girl.” I scoff and swing my lifted brow back to my vocalist. “So mind ya bizness.”
Stepping back from the conversation with a quirk to my lips, I flip a smirking Rex Thompson the bird—which gains me a few laughs from the milling crowd—and let my fingers fly over the strings to test the shit the audio guys did to fix their problem.
With my back to everyone else, I close my eyes and let my frustration out on the axe slung against my pelvis, only to have the cheers filter through my subconscious and stop me too soon.
“You ready?” Mac’s hand lands heavy on my shoulder, his other one busy with twirling both sticks between his fingers as his eyes track me from beneath his black bandana.
I jut my chin in affirmation. “Good. Toby?”
“Uhhh…” Mac looks over to the side of the stage where As Above’s other guitarist is stationed, a cup in each hand and his bass dangling down his broad back. “Close enough.”
I snort with a shake of the head and ready my left hand on the neck of my axe, my fingers absentmindedly stroking the smooth surface on the back I can almost feel through the callouses built up from so many years of playing. “I guess so.”
“Let’s do this!” Mac hops on the balls of his feet, his arms flying up around him as he practically floats over the stage, his antics amping up those filling in the not-so-open spaces right up to the barrier that keeps them from us. Rex watches his brother with a keen eye and a shake of the head, but a small grin pulls up the corner of his lips.
“Oh, Maaaac,” Rex calls into the mic, the grille pressed into his pierced lips. “Your spot’s back there.” Hand outstretched, Rex points to the platform set up with Mac’s set and garners laughter from the crowd that watches the twins.
Mac throws his arms up, his hand going to his face as he spins to Rex. “Oh, jeez,” he yells over the rising volume and takes off running to the back, where he catapults himself off the platform and overthe drum set.
His ability to land without racking himself or destroying his setup has me laughing and tucking my pick between my lips to clap as the crowd around us burst out into a roar that hurts my ears.
Applause drowns out any further communication with my bandmates as Mac plants his grinning ass on his stool and holds out both drumsticks.
I see the cue coming from the drummer as he holds his arms wide, absorbing the noise made for him, and shove the in-ear-monitors in before I miss my mark.
“Good morning,” Rex calls out to the crowd, his voice filtering through the speaker out loud and in my ear, causing the milling patrons of the event to literally run from every entrance of the venue. Bodies flood the remaining space, the ground before us covered. “We’re As Above.” Rex’s arm goes up, devil horns to the sky, a grin on his already sweaty face. “And welcome,” he growls. “To theSetlist Music Festival!”
Rex’s arm comes down, triggering the slam of the first note to our latest single, and sends the mass into a wicked frenzy.
Propping my foot up on the stage monitor, my fingers flitter over the fretboard as I let the vibrations take over, the muscle memory taking me down each note like a breeze over my skin, and my head bobs along to the melody.
