26- a warning sign
My heart pounds. My hands start to shake so violently, Deno reaches over and turns off my amp to avoid a discordant mess.
Then the boom of applause. Whistles. Feet, stamping for more.
Oh my God.
They liked it.
A white spotlight hits me square in the face. It’s hard and honest and renders me completely blind. I push my glasses to the top of my head and try not to squint. “You know me as Sparo, but some of you know my real name.” I turn to Deno and Lacey. “This is the ridiculously talented Lacey Taggert on keys.” Lacey offers a regal nod as more applause and whistles break out. “My musical partner, my friend, Deno Steinway, on everything else.” I turn and bow to them. “Both of you, thank you.”
Deno’s surprised mouth whips up in a grin. He leans over to the mic. “And let’s hear it for Sparo, aka, Cadence’s own Angie Dovage,” he says, and the crowd erupts again. The energy flows over me, fills me, and none of it feels tainted, contaminated by the darkness of my mother’s mistakes. If anything, my experiences have made music the empowering force in my life. The thing I used to do to forget myself is the thing that has made me more myself.
Tears prick my eyes. I flick the sunglasses down over them, watery from both emotion and that intense spotlight. I glance up toward Artie, and the light fades. Deno’s deft fingers fly over the tablet to start up the next song. It’s another one of ours, a faster, older one, recorded on a day long before we considered doing anything like this. The crowd woots. If Kiera Shaw is out there booing, she’s being drowned out.
And then I see him.
Reece.
Alone in the center rear of the floor. Arms crossed, feet apart. He looks like he’s standing on the deck of a ship. Thank goodness there’re no vocals in this song. I’d never get them out. Our gazes meet through the rush of spinning purple light. He doesn’t smile. There’s an intensity about him that pricks my senses. I push it away. A surge of aimless anger hits me square in the gut. Why did I have to go and fall for a guy like this? Someone unable to stay in one place. Someone who spends his life chasing death. Feeding off it. Having feelings for him has cursed me, too.
My gaze moves to my laptop. To the floor. To anything but him. I’ve ignored him for the better part of this week. I can do it for a few hours more. From the corner of my eye, I see Lacey pluck Deno’s shirt and point as a shadow falls over the booth.
Reece leans over the side, head tilted toward me in a distinctly birdlike manner. His eyes are intensely black, and his irises look bigger than usual. The hair on my arms stands up. My fingers tighten around my laptop. “What is it, Reece?”
He winces at my clipped tone. “The air has changed.” His voice is even, but his face is urgent. The skin around his cheekbones appears pulled taut. Shadows dip under his eyes, in the hollows of his cheeks. He looks…tired, hungry. He leans forward and drops his voice. “It’s time. You need to get out of here.”
I set the laptop down with a quickening pulse. “Are you sure?”
“It smells like it always does right before…” He takes my hand, then drops it like I burned him. Which I kind of did, I guess. “Look, I get that you don’t want anything to do with me. I’m not asking you to leave with me, but you’ve got to leave.”
“But I’ve finally done it, Reece,” I say, letting his words take their sweet time penetrating. “I’m playing my own music. I’m out here as me, and it’s so amazing I can’t even explain it.”
The whites of his eyes flash. “Yes, and I’m sorry the timing is bad, but you need to get somewhere safe.”
I look around at the packed room which I don’t want to leave. Not tonight. “It’s going to happen right now?”
“I don’t know the exact second.” He takes my hand again and this time, he doesn’t let go. “But you need to go. This is your life, Angie.”
“Whoa, hey. What’s up, Romeo?” Deno inserts his bulk between us and plucks Reece’s hand off me. “I think you’re the one who’s going.” He signals to Tom across the room.
“Angie, it’s coming.” Reece’s voice makes my skin prickle. “I wouldn’t bother you for any other reas—”
A strong hand lands on Reece’s shoulder and swings him away from me. Tom is still sporting the fading bruises he acquired at my last show. “Hey Sparo, is this one giving you problems?”
“No, I…” My words fade off, along with my musical euphoria. The implications of Reece’s warning drain the blood from my head in a world-tilting bout of vertigo.
“Yes, he is,” Deno says with a flick of his fingers. “Off you go, sport.”
Tom nods grimly. Reece’s nostrils flare as Tom jerks him toward the exit.
My stomach rolls with unease. I sink onto a stool and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “We need to get out of here,” I whisper to Lacey.
“Um, no. You’re not going to let your ex derail your show. You’re stronger than that.” She pumps a fist in the air. “You’re in charge.”
But I’m not, really. An event outside of my control is. We may be broken up, but Reece wouldn’t come here with such an urgent warning unless he meant it. “We really need to get out of here.”
Deno takes one look at my face and announces a “quick” break. He puts on a prearranged house mix that will run for a few minutes, and we head for the dressing room. The walls and ceiling are painted black, and it’s as small as a storage closet—which it probably once was. It’s also the only halfway quiet place around here. Inside, I turn to find only Lacey with me. “Where’s Deno?” My jaw clenches. We’re not leaving without him. My head spins with possible options. Can I get the whole place to evacuate? No way: if I told the room out there—half of which have been drinking—to get in their cars right now and head for the interstate, they’d probably think it was part of my act.
“He stopped to talk to some guy.” Lacey hands me a bottle of water. “Angie, you look like you swallowed a fly. What did Reece say to you?”
I hold up a shaking hand. How am I going to explain this? “Look, you’re not going to believe this, but—”
Deno plows inside, bursting with energy. His smile is megawatt as he points at me. “You can lose that terrified look—minds are being blown tonight, girl. Shocked the hell out of our classmates, but they’re all psyched for you. Katie Long wants to interview you for the school newsletter.”
“Deno—” I start, but he holds up a hand and barrels on.
“No, no—wait. I gotta tell you the best part. There’s a guy here from a recording studio in Philadelphia who wants to talk to us. Can you believe it? This is really happening.”
“I can’t—I think I’m going to be sick.” I groan and lean forward, bracing my hands against my thighs. When I tell these two that we need to leave—now—they’re going to want to know why. And if I tell them the truth, they’re going to question my sanity. I won’t blame them.
“Better not be,” Deno says. “We have to be back out there in two minutes.” He checks his phone. “More like a minute and thirty. Let’s get ready. We don’t want dead air out there.”
Lacey rests a hand on my back. “What’s wrong, Angie?”
I get up too fast and close my eyes against a wave of dizziness. “Look guys, you’re not going to believe this, but something much worse than dead air is going to—”
Crack.
Thunder with the power of a hundred lightning bolts.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard.
Ever.
We go still and silent and waiting. For one horrible, hopeful moment, everything is still. But then, a deafening boom racks the building, makes the floor move beneath our feet. Lacey grabs my arm with a cry. The walls vibrate. Magazines scatter to the floor as the table tips over.
The lights flick out with a spray of sparks. Our small, windowless room plunges into darkness. Shuffling feet and the confused voices of The Strip Mall’s patrons, pressing for the exit.
“What’s happening?” Lacey shrieks.
“I don’t know,” Deno says. “Something.”
In the dark, tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes.
This is it. The. Big. Thing.
The end.