Chapter 8

Being on stage, even just for a sound check, reminded Sterling of exactly why he did what he did. Any questions or doubts fled the moment the lights hit him with a guitar in his hands and a mic in front of him. The familiar rush of adrenaline washed over him as they went through some of their set while the sound guys did their thing.

Retire? Get a normal job? He had been crazy to even think about it. He belonged here.

The average person had no idea how much relied on a good sound check and an excellent sound engineer. When he first started doing bigger shows, a sound guy named Riley gave an explanation that always stuck with Sterling.

“When we eat sausage, we don’t think about the way it’s made or what goes into it. We don’t want to know—we just want the final, delicious product. Same with sound. If it’s done right, no one gives it a second thought. But there’s a lot of sausage,” Riley had said. “The sausage is what they don’t see to give it the final, amazing product.”

As Sterling waited for the front-of-house sound guy to adjust the levels on his vocals, he couldn’t help thinking about that. Looking out over the empty amphitheater, Sterling imagined the way it would transform in a few hours. The energy would shift with a few thousand moving bodies out there to something palpable and hard to describe.

Some shows seemed to have a kind of magic that connected him to the audience. It was something he couldn’t always predict and couldn’t force. More often than not, Sterling felt it. But at his worst shows, something inexplicable felt off and he had to mentally talk himself through the rest of the show. It was hard to recover from that lack of energy.

There was definitely a lot of sausage in a good show.

Movement to his right had Sterling glancing over. Reese stood on the stage, a phone in hand. She was close to Moby, who was already smiling, but her eyes were on Sterling. When his gaze landed on her, she shifted her weight back a bit, as though she was nervous.

“Do you mind if I post some live videos of the sound check on social? I know we haven’t finished the whole branding thing, but fans always love the sneak peeks and behind-the-scenes.”

Sterling swallowed. He knew she was right, but he had never been big on posting to social himself. Especially not live videos. He couldn’t keep up with the chat and got totally distracted by the comments and emojis and questions that flew by the few times he had tried live videos. But if he wasn’t the one filming, people wouldn’t expect him to answer. It would just be a way of showing the public some of the sausage. He smiled.

“Yeah, that’s fine. You may want to wait for Mike to get the sound situation figured out.”

In his earpiece, Mike cleared his throat. “I heard that. Didn’t realize I was dealing with a diva. I’ll have your sound done in just another second, Princess.”

Sterling laughed and could see Moby smiling and shaking his head. All of the guys had ear pieces and floor monitors so they could get a better sense of the mix and hear themselves. Before the show and between songs, Mike could also let them know anything they needed. But after this, they shouldn’t need to worry about it.

“All set,” Mike said. “I added a ton of reverb to your voice. I think it will sound really lovely.”

Sterling shook his head, smiling. “Perfect. As long as you’ve got the autotune on.” Laughter came through the earpiece.

“You use autotune?” Reese looked shocked.

Sterling pointed to his ear piece and smiled. “Just joking with the sound guy. I’m not a boy band.”

“This is my first tour,” Reese said. “There will be a lot I don’t know. So, it’s okay if I drift around and do some video of y’all warming up? I’m thinking Facebook and Instagram stories. You’re not on Snapchat, right?”

“That would be a hard no to Snapchat. Feel free to film whatever.”

“Just make sure you get my good side,” Moby called.

“Which side is that?” Sterling asked.

“All sides,” Moby answered.

Reese shook her head. “This is the kind of stuff I want. Just do what you’re doing and ignore me.”

Impossible.

Sterling swallowed, trying to bury that thought and the ones that came after as he watched Reese walk away. He liked what she was wearing now. She looked different. Yesterday on the bus she looked like she was going into a corporate office rather than a tour bus. Today she had on worn jeans, sporty sneakers, and a graphic T-shirt. It suited her.

“Yo, Sterling. We going or what?” Moby called. Sterling realized he had been staring after Reese.

“Yep, sure thing.”

He nodded to Moby and started in on a song from the middle of their set. Playing through the intro chords, Sterling was totally aware of where Reese moved in his periphery, filming. It sent a thrill through him and the kind of warm adrenaline that he usually only got when the concerts were packed with fans.

Normally warm-ups were pretty chill affairs, with the energy he hoped for in the actual show not even a ghostly whisper. Sterling played and sang just enough to get the levels correct. They all knew the songs well enough that it wasn’t about practice. But with Reese skirting around them on the stage, Sterling’s chest hummed with the bass and as he stepped to the mic, the familiar rush flooded through him.

Eyes closed and a half-smile on his face, Sterling sang through the first verse and shot right into the chorus of “Unlasting,” the title track of their last album. Normally, he would cut out here during a sound check, but he couldn’t stop. The sound zipped and hummed through him, lighting up his nerve endings and creating an electric trail up from his toes, coming to rest in the very center of his chest. The band followed him, tracking with wherever he went.

The words felt as alive as the music and the emotion he felt when writing made him disappear into the song:

One last drink of your lips

Never enough to slake the thirst

For something more, more than you

I see you, see you move

Right past me to something new

Statue, stone and still I wait

All my loves, colorless and unlasting

The last note hung in the air and Sterling opened his eyes. His breath came heavy, but his heart was light. A smile broke over his face and he turned to find that same look echoed on Moby’s face.

“Dude, you’re on fire. We should let them in now and just go. Think you can hang on to that energy for a few more hours?” Moby asked.

Sterling still smiled. “Maybe. Let’s hope.”

In his ear, Mike gave a low whistle. “That goes on record as the best warm-up to date. Can’t wait for the real show, man.”

Sterling held up a hand toward the sound box. “Thanks, Mike. I’ve got you and autotune to thank.”

Scattered laughter surrounded Sterling as he pulled the guitar strap over his head and handed the instrument to one of the stage guys who would make sure it was in tune. Immediately he scanned the stage for Reese. He spotted her near the side of the stage, a huge smile on her face, typing something into the phone in her hand. She glanced up as though she felt him looking.

The twenty feet of stage between them seemed to disappear. People crossed between them, as stage hands set things up and the other guys in the band walked by, but they weren’t really there. It was only Reese, her gray gaze holding Sterling in place where he stood.

His heartbeat seemed to slow in his chest like a hand was squeezing it. The electric energy from the performance seemed to have shifted and now stretched between them. He couldn’t say what it was about her. Yesterday he had been upset that she was on the bus. Was that just yesterday? He felt shocked by whatever this was. But he knew that the heat that fueled his performance came straight from Reese.

Sterling wanted to cross the stage. He felt compelled to say something or just to touch her hand. It felt like a need, like it would complete whatever circuit this was that had his skin buzzing.

“Sterling!” Morgan’s voice broke through whatever stretched between Reese and Sterling. Morgan launched herself into his arms and he caught her, spinning to keep himself from being bowled over with the momentum. When he turned back, he saw only Reese’s back as she walked off-stage. Disappointment coiled in his belly. He wanted this moment with her.

“That. Was. Incredible.” Morgan’s hair tickled his neck as she spoke and there was laughter in her voice.

“Yeah?” Sterling knew it. He wasn’t trying to be coy, but he simply didn’t know how to respond in words at the moment. His thoughts were zooming too fast, chasing after Reese. But Morgan’s praise warmed him. He tried to shake off the lingering disappointment. He set Morgan back down on the stage. She ran a hand through her hair, grinning up at him.

“I’m so proud of you. I mean, I’ve seen you perform. But just being here in this moment after hearing you play your first chords on that beat-up guitar you got at a garage sale—this is just amazing.”

Sterling realized that her eyes were brimming with tears. Morgan. The straight-shooting, never-back-down woman he’d known since she was just a fiery seven-year-old. The sight had him zeroing in on her. What he really wanted was to go after Reese, just to see that look on her face again. But here was Morgan, his old best friend, looking like she needed him.

“Hey,” Sterling said. “What’s with the waterworks?”

Morgan swallowed and looked down at her feet, wiping at her eyes with her hand. “Sorry.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Not even that time you cut your arm open on that fence when we were trying to sneak into the soccer game.”

Morgan held up her arm and he could see the long, thin white scar line. She laughed, then wiped her eyes. “Why were we trying to sneak in, anyway? I think tickets were like five dollars.”

“And we didn’t even like soccer.”

“That we did not. I think you were hoping to see Emma Farrell.”

Sterling groaned. “Man, I haven’t thought about that sad crush in years. Thanks for the reminder.”

“Your first big heartbreak. Probably the last girl who ever told you no.”

Though she probably didn’t mean for them to, her words took Sterling on a fast-forward tour through years of women not telling him no. He cleared his throat and pulled at his collar, realizing that they were still standing in the center of the stage while the crew worked around them. David and Chuck were over to the side with Moby, talking to Mike, who had emerged from behind the mixer. Sterling needed to get over there and talk through the set. Reese had disappeared.

“So, you’re okay? I need to get over there and finish set-up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’m fine. Not sad—I’m actually just really happy to see you doing well. That truly was something else. And you know I see a lot of bands play, so I’m not just saying that.”

“Thanks,” Sterling said, grinning, still feeling the giddy electric rush moving through him.

Morgan touched his arm. “I’m glad to be back with you. I’ve missed you. And it’s really nice to see you doing well.”

“I’m glad to have you on my team,” Sterling said, starting to edge away. “I think it’s the start of good things.”

She gave him a goofy grin as he turned and walked over to the guys, who all slapped him on the back and congratulated him like he had won something.

“It was just a sound check,” Sterling said, shuffling his feet. But he couldn’t hide his grin.

Moby bounced up and down on his feet. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You’re on. We’re on. Now let’s keep you moving so you don’t lose whatever it is that set you on fire.”

They started back to the green rooms where they could shower and finish getting ready and wait until the show started. Sterling tried to look for Reese as they went, but wherever she disappeared to, she was gone for now. He tried to tell himself that having her close by had nothing to do with the way he had fallen into the music, but he had never been a good liar. To anyone else or to himself.