57
Alina
“…And when you catch me, we’ll shine together, mimicking the stars. Together, we’ll escape…” Paisley almost-whispers, singing low into the mic as I amp up my playing, adding a few decorative licks before Siobhán and Roxie take over on drums and bass. Then Paisley belts out the last lines of “Whisper Tree”: “Just you and meeeeeee. Always only you and me…”
“Yes! That sounded fucking amazing!” Roxie squeals, as soon as Shiv raps on her cowbell and Paisley’s voice fades away.
“I have goosebumps, guys. Ali, I swear this one’s my favourite song so far,” Paisley grins, and I accept the compliment.
“That makes me really happy. It means a lot to me, this one, so I’m glad you guys like it.” I say.
“Dude,” Roxie interjects, “I love it. It comes together perfectly, and Shiv, that cowbell you put on the end is awesome. And this was only rehearsal! I can’t wait to play it live.” I guess she really means it, she’s practically jumping up and down.
“Me too,” I laugh, “I’m excited to see what the crowd thinks. It’s a bit edgier than most of our songs, but still our sound, if that makes any sense?” I pull my Stratocaster’s strap up and over my head before resting the guitar against the amp.
“I say we celebrate the new song over some good ol’ poutine. Love me some cheesy fries and gravy,” Roxie says. “I mean, we are in Montreal, after all. Let me just say—cheese curds. Real cheese curds…and we do have a few hours until showtime.” She raises her eyebrows up and down excitedly.
“I’m so down for that,” Paisley agrees, and so do Siobhán and I. I can feel my stomach growling at the thought. It feels good to want to eat something. Not too long ago I’d have been at war with myself for even considering eating something as decadent as poutine.
“It’s so good having you back, Ali,” Shiv says, as we all quickly agree on and jot down our final set list for tonight to give to Tommy. One good thing about Happenstance is that we always switch up our sets, never playing the same songs at back-to-back concerts, something I think our fans appreciate because we hope to make our shows unpredictable and fun, a little habit the four of us agreed on ages ago.
“Shiv’s right. It just wasn’t the same without you here,” Roxie adds, giving my arm a squeeze.
“I missed you guys, too. Way too much, more than I ever thought. But I’m feeling like myself again, and I want you each to know how important you are to me.”
“Aww, group hug…” Paisley says, pulling us all in. I feel like I’m home again. “Now, let’s go feed my belly. I’m about to get hangry,” Paisley jokes, and we all laugh.
It feels good to be back where I belong.
“Ali? You guys still here?” We pull apart, and I see an anxious-looking Slater walking onto the stage, followed close behind by Rain, Scott, and Fife.
“Hey,” I smile, but it falters when I notice all four men are wearing the same concerned looks.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking a tentative step toward Slater.
“Where’s Zack, you guys? He was supposed to be meeting me here, too,” Roxie asks, and I see a look pass between the men.
“He’s going to be fine, but there was an accident. He’s over at Montreal General. He’s been admitted for the night.” Slater says, and sighs, grabbing the back of his neck. I can see he’s stressed. We have a gig tonight, and they’re a man down.
“Shit, I have to go see him,” Roxie says, her voice quavering.
“I’ll go with you,” Shiv says, wrapping her arm around her.
“What the hell happened?” Paisley asks, concerned.
“Dumb ass was playing roadie, something we tell him over and over to leave for the professionals, you know?” Fife says, a hint of annoyance in his voice but still looking concerned. “He tripped on a stray cord, and bashed his head off the floor real good when he fell backwards.”
“Oh god,” Rox says, covering her mouth.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Scott chimes in, “he’s awake and surly as fuck about being admitted and missing the show tonight. But he’s got a minor concussion, so the doc wants to keep him in for observation.”
“Wow. So, what are you going to do about tonight?” Siobhán asks. “Pull a guest guitarist up from another band?”
“Hoping to,” Rain says. His eyes drift in my direction, and it’s then I feel my stomach start to churn for real. No way are they thinking of me.
“Shadow,” Slater says, stepping in close and leaning down to speak in my ear, “I need a really big favour from you.”
And it’s official. I’m going to faint and will need to be held for observation alongside Zack. There’s no way in hell I can fill in for Zack Nolan and play with Sicken Union.
“Slater?” I question.
“You’re the only one I trust enough.”
“I—I couldn’t.” I shake my head vehemently.
“You can, baby. You’re brilliant up on that stage, and I’ll be right up there with you. I’d never let you fail. You’re a musical genius, you learn by ear, you know our songs. Worst case scenario, you embellish the solos a bit—least of our worries. I promise you can do this.”
Asshole. Slater Jenkins knows exactly what to say to make me putty in his hands, every damn time.
“I—I don’t know,” I say, closing my eyes and trying to calm my nerves. This is huge.
Thankfully, I’m saved when Roxie calls out, “All men off the stage. Give us girls a minute.”
I can’t hide the smile I get when I hear the grumbling, but the guys do what she says.
“Think about it. For me. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t know you could do it,” Slater says, before dropping a kiss on top of my head and following the others offstage.
“Ali, you have to do this!” Paisley claps her hands together, making us all giggle. “You can totally do it and, Jesus, this is a ginormous opportunity. Happenstance meets Sicken Union: you and Slater all hot and sexy onstage!”
“You need to tone that shit down, Cheerleader Barbie, or you’ll be offstage next,” Siobhán quips. “Ali just got back. I can see why she might be hesitant.” I don’t know where I’d be without these ladies.
“I want to do it,” I admit, “but I’m nervous as hell. I mean, it’s the least I can do for the guys after they had to rearrange the show I missed. Do I even know how to play everything in their setlist? Can I handle being hated for ninety minutes when the fans see me and not Zack when Sicken takes the stage?”
“Like we’d let you play if we didn’t know you already knew all their songs. Besides, we’ve got some time to rehearse,” Paisley says, giving me a huge grin before nodding over to the side of the stage, where I see four men, all grinning and heading our way.
“And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not,” Roxie says, “but according to social media, you, Ms Alina Cassidy, have won the hearts of a lot of fans. I bet they’ll be honoured to witness you onstage with your man, headlining.”
I feel Slater’s hands wrap around my waist, pulling me flush to his broad chest.
“Okay,” I say, “I can do this.”
“Whoop! Attagirl!” Paisley shouts, moving off to the side. She sits on top of a huge speaker alongside Shiv and Roxie.
“You stole my line,” Slater says, then turns me towards him, so he can kiss me.
“Who needs poutine? We’ve got a show to rehearse. Turn the lights back on, Tommy,” Paisley says, making us all laugh as the guys of Sicken Union and I grab our instruments.
We spend the next god-knows-how-long rehearsing tonight’s Sicken Union setlist, each one of these people on my side, taking the time to make sure I have the same faith in myself they all so blatantly have in me.
You are enough…