Page 6 of Opening Strain

Luke’s eyebrow goes up. “After Darren, you have to ask?”

Stupid question. He’s well aware how Darren died. I shut my eyes to block out the rest of the awful period. I take the meds and wait for them to work.

The others in the band are on a post-show thrill. They’re high-fiving all around me. I want to jump in, but know I need to give the pills time. Then I’ll be ready to party.

“I loved the part of the movie about the rock-climbing wall.” Coop nudges 007 in the stomach, then lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Did you see how you helped Tris? Hearts were flying out of your eyes.”

007 shakes his head. I keep my own counsel, but agree with Coop. The outing was a turning point for the band. From the chair, I offer, “Perhaps not hearts, but definitely smiley faces.”

007 takes our ribbing for what it is. Genuine giddiness that UC is back in business. “Well, I didn’t see you assholes coming over to help the poor guy out. Tris was in dire need of someone to give him pointers.”

Tris chimes in, because he’s now a part of the band. “Yeah. 007 at least helped me get my feet under me. You three didn’t do anything but make fun of the inexperienced rock climber.”

“Hey,” I stick up for myself. “Keyboardists are hard to come by. We would’ve helped you out. Eventually.”

They laugh and I’m back in the zone. I stand and take one step on my bad leg and realize my huge mistake. With a grimace, I fall back into the chair.

“What’s up?” Coop attaches himself to my side.

Cat’s out of the bag, so no use hiding any longer. “I landed wrong during the last jump. Luke got me an Advil, so I’ll be better soon. Guess the meds need more time to work.”

“Where does it hurt?”

I gesture towards my inner thigh.

Coop makes a big issue out of wiping his brow. “Whew. For a minute there, I thought you were pointing to your junk. Where would you be without the snake in your pants?”

Luke interrupts our laughter. “Since I have you all here, I wanted to give you some news. Rather, Kenneth Dumont from Platinum Records is here, andhewants to give it to you.” He turns toward a tall, tanned man with a good amount of salt-and-pepper hair—heavy on the salt.

He raises his hand. “Hey, I’m Kenneth Dumont, your new artist relations rep at Platinum. I’ve been behind the scenes for a while observing you guys, and have to say, the label loves what we’ve been seeing. The movie itself is fantastic, and you’re the real deal.”

We look at each other, wondering what he has up his sleeve. We don’t have to wait too long.

“The label’s been working with Luke and have almost all the details finalized.” Kenneth looks at each one of us. “We’ve added stadiums to your upcoming tour that starts in two weeks. Any new dates will be arenas only.”

I hold my breath. Holy. Shit. A summit I never thought we’d see again. We had embarked on our third stadium tour when Darren died. Now we’re going to do it all over again. We’ve been prepping to play places that hold up to seven, eight thousand—maybe ten—but nothing compares to stadium seating of over fifty-thousand. Wembley holds ninety. What a fucking trip this will be.

The guys all look as shell-shocked as I feel—slack-jawed and wide-eyed. All except Tris, who’s never done it before. Freaking amazing way to start a career.

Kenneth continues about our opening bands, cities, and modifications to the set design. I try to absorb it all, but am gobsmacked that this is happening again so soon.

Luke adds, “You all better rest up, because we’re getting underway in two weeks. We have a lot to do before then, so take this long weekend to party because you deserve it. Monday we’ll work out the kinks to alter our plans for huge arenas!”

I jump out of the chair and share hugs with the band. The pain is still excruciating, but I don’t care. This is too big.

“We have a movie and a stadium tour. Thank you, Darren.” 007 kisses his fist and raises it to the sky. We mimic his action.

After hugs are shared all around, including with the new rep from Platinum, I collapse into the chair once more. My hand rubs my thigh. Fuck, this hurts.

Luke approaches me. “Any better?”

“I wish.” The guys debate where to go to celebrate and whom to do it with. But for my bum leg, I’d be right in the thick of things.

“Let me get you an ice pack,” Luke offers.

I sigh. “Sounds good.”

Our manager adds, “I think someone should take a look at it. To be safe, all right?”

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