Page 49 of Chronicles of a Rockin' Mess

“Good, let’s get our songbird up on that stage then,” he says as we walk out and to find a crowd waiting for us.

It’s a little unreal to walk out onto a stage like this. To be greeted by so many people that are there to hear you sing. It’s a humbling experience, to say the least. It’s not like when I’ve joined them on stage in the past, this time the energy of the crowd has my body electrified.

I take a deep breath and walk up to the microphone. I glance over at Hank and he winks at me, and suddenly, I’m just Lark, singing with my friends. I hear Joe and Leo start playing music, and I close my eyes as I let it soak through my body, through my soul. I feel my hips move slightly as I tap my thigh along with the beat, and then I sing.

I swear the roar of the crowd dies down, but I’m partly too afraid to open my eyes to see and partly I’m so in my zone that I’m fairly certain I’m imagining things. I belt out the lyrics until I get to the chorus and hear Hank join in. I open my eyes as I turn to him, and he’s grinning ear to ear. I sing to him, and he sings back to me. I can’t help smiling. This feels right. I’m home.

Lincoln

Like fuck that I’m not going to see Lark perform. My little songbird is having her first big stage appearance as a headliner, and I will see it. I pull my hoodie up and walk around the back of the stage. I hear her before I see her. Her voice is…she’s amazing. When I finally see her, I’m blown away.

I’m mesmerized. I don’t even realize that I’m holding my breath until I let it out. Lark. Is. Beautiful. And I don’t just mean physically attractive. Yes, she is sexy as fuck up on that stage in that ridiculously little red dress with the killer heels, but she looks alive, so fucking alive, and the crowd is vibing. Her voice is the perfect combination of sultry and deep but also soulful and airy. The words seem to float out of her.

I’m momentarily distracted as Kade and Harry bump into me. I groan because with the three of us standing together, it’s way harder to stay incognito.

“Shit, Lark is amazing,” Kade says, his mouth gaping.

“She’s a motherfucking rock star,” Harry yells. Kade and I both give him side-eye. “What? She is.”

“Can you maybe not draw all the attention to us?” Kade scolds. Harry rolls his eyes and turns back to Lark who draws out the last note of the song.

There’s silence for a nanosecond before the crowd erupts into applause. The smile on Lark’s face is wider than I’ve ever seen it as she turns back to the crowd.

“We’re Magnolia Tear. How’s everyone doin’?” she asks the crowd. They go crazy again. “We’re just gonna go right ahead and play another song for you.” There’s another roar from the crowd as the band starts to play again. Then Lark’s voice fills the air, and it’s like church on Sunday. There are more people milling into the area to watch. Hank and the boys can still put on quite a show, but it’s Lark’s voice that’s causing the crowd to double in size. There’s no doubt in my mind. And as they continue their set, the crowd grows and grows as does her confidence.

“How about one more?” she asks them. The audience erupts into cheers. “I should probably introduce my bandmates.” She walks around and introduces each band member. Her stage presence is off the hook. She’s a goddamn natural. I’m completely shocked. I had no idea she could be like this, that she was this talented. I’m left completely confused as to how multiple record executives turned her down.

“She’s gonna be more famous than us,” Harry whispers in my ear. I nod but keep my eyes trained on Lark.

After they finish their set, we sneak back to our stage, somehow avoiding getting spotted. Lark appears shortly before we go on for our set. She’s back in her jeans and t-shirt. Her face is cleaned of makeup and her hair is up in a messy bun. She’s like Superman, and I almost want to ask her if she changed in a phone booth, but I don’t want her to know I saw her sing. I’m not sure why, I just don’t.

“You ready?” she asks me.

“As ready as always,” I say.

“Good. Any last-minute requests?”

I shake my head. “How was your set?”

She smiles. “Amazing,” she says softly, looking around as though she doesn’t want anyone to know.

“Good. I’m glad,” I say to her. I admit I’m confused by her reaction. I mean, shit, with a set of pipes like hers, she should be shouting how great of a singer she is from all the mountain tops. I’m now happy I didn’t tell her I saw her, but I also want to let her know. I want to tell her she’s amazing, that she should follow her dreams and leave the PA position. That she could headline her own tours, not just be a singer in a band that is, if I’m being honest, nearing retirement.

Lark

Watching Lincoln on stage has me reminiscing of earlier today, when I was the one on stage. I’m deep in thought when I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and see that Hank is calling me.

I text him back.

Me: What’s up?

Hank: Call me. Now!

Me: Everything OK?

Hank: Yes. Better than OK. Call me!

First, I love that Hank is seventy and can text. My living grandparents don’t have a clue how to use a smartphone let alone text. Hell, they barely understand how to use their house phones.

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