AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I shrug and glance over my shoulder at the banner that damn near looks homemade.
Dreadful Souls.
Aren’t so dreadful.
Pushing up to my feet and dusting off my hands, the guitarist rushes over to me and offers his instrument with a bowed head like it’s a sacrifice.
Snorting, I accept the axe—and it’s a good one—and lift the strap over my head to settle it across my bare torso.
“You know one of ours?” I ask the singer as the guitarist skitters back and snags another bass off of the rack just off stage.
“Who doesn’t?” Singer scoffs and gestures to the crowd as his drummer shifts his beat that he’s held and begins the intro to an As Above song from way back.
“I know you know it,” the singer says into the mic and waves at the boisterous mass at his feet. “So let’s fucking hear it.”
He counts us in with a tic of his fingers and I’m off like a rocket as the beat carries me through the original As Above lyrics with an added raspy tone and a growling chorus.
God, these guys are good.
So I decide to fuck with them.
Test them, if you will.
And I change the key right in the middle of the song.
I whip around and catch the drummer boy that looks like a surfer with long hair and tan skin watching me over his set.
The guitarist cocks his head at me, his wild eyes shooting to the singer, and when the third set of eyes land on me, a grin stretching his face wide, he shocks me.
Mic to his chin, the singer lifts his free hand and belts out the notes in the right pitch to match my guitar.
Dreadful Soul’s audience roars in response as the singer extends the last notes, the band taking his cue to stop with the drop of his arm.
I stand there, the echo of the music ringing in my ears, and stare at the kid—well, maybe not a kid—with the frizzy hair and colored nails. In his shirt that looks too big and his height that nearly matches mine.
“Holy shit.”
“Fuck yeah.”
The corner of my lips lift when the band rushes in around me, hands slapping my back and fists bumping congratulatory fists.
“You got a manager?” I ask the group, who all stare at each other in return, then turn to me with lifted brows.
“You’re looking at ’em.”
Oh boy.
I lift the strap over my shoulder and slip my phone from my pocket, my thumbs speed dialing Leo the second the device is free from the denim and the guitar is removed from my grasp.
Phone to my ringing ear, I gesture to the singer. “We’re closing out. Be there.”
I don’t wait for an answer from the grinning fools. I just spin and stalk off stage down the back with Leo’s voice barely registering in my ear.
“Please tell me they’re at least good.”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling.” I hop down the few stairs to the trampled ground between the barricades that lead to the area meant for staff and musicians.
“Better fucking be. That shit is already blowing up.”
