Page 22 of A Way Out
Maria sat on the leather couch, legs crossed, politely sipping wine, like she was about to enjoy a lovely opera. Or a musical. Not watch the members of a rock band tune their instruments and warm up.
In truth, she had no idea how to act right now. She was embarrassed to admit she’d never been to a rock concert. Not that this was a concert, she supposed.
Holly and Sam and their band had done what she’d probably call an acoustic set at their New Year’s Eve party, but they’d been messing around, not really even finishing most of the songs.
Holly had been inviting her to one of her concerts since they’d reconnected last year, but Maria had been too busy trying to pretend everything was all right even as her life was falling apart at the seams.
She listened to KIDZ BOP and had a healthy appreciation of show tunes and classical music. Normally, when she was about to listen to a live performance, it was in a music hall and she was dressed in diamonds and a floor-length gown, a tuxedoed Vic on her arm.
Oz, his guitar slung around his shoulder, turned to face Travis, who sat behind the drums, his hands lightly gripping a pair of sticks. “Ready?” he asked. Travis nodded, Oz counted down, and Travis started a staccato beat against the drums.
Oz began strumming his guitar, then Parker joined in with his bass, and Cash stroked the keys, creating a melody Maria didn’t recognize but liked all the same.
And then Lacey leaned close to the microphone and began crooning. Maria just stared, taking it all in. She was watching her first live rock performance.
And it was spectacular.
The first song, she guessed, based on the refrain, was called “Dream This.” It had a heavy, fast beat, demanding the listener’s attention as Lacey sang about realizing her rock ’n roll dreams despite a whole lot of setbacks.
The song ended abruptly, with Oz wrapping his fingers around the neck of his guitar to cut off the sound while Travis tapped a cymbal one more time before grabbing it to also pause the vibration.
The five of them had a quick discussion, something about this riff being too fast and maybe the drums needed to come in sooner; Maria didn’t understand any of it, but it was fascinating to watch them. They were all so serious and yet laid-back, cracking jokes, laughing, nodding and agreeing that this or that needed to change.
They played the song again, and Maria’s untrained ear couldn’t tell what they’d done differently, but when it was over, they were happy, so whatever they’d adjusted, it worked.
And then they jumped into the next song.
This was fun. Not just casual fun, like catching up with an old college friend over coffee and pastries at Coffee-A-Roma, but the sort of fun Maria had never before experienced.
Not even at her own wedding reception.
Her wedding day had been maybe a little more than casual fun, but it had also been tempered with nerves as she worried about pleasing her mother and stressed over her sisters coming into town for the grand affair. And then when she’d caught one of her bridesmaids in the ladies’ room getting busy with a guest that turned out to be her sister Holly’s plus one, she’d thought, I wish Hearsys had permission to lose control, because I sure could use a drink right now.
Now here she was, sitting in a practice studio in a house in LA, listening to a band warm up for their performance next weekend, and she was having more fun than she’d had at her own wedding.
The band chatted again about making slight changes to one of the songs, and then Parker stepped up next to Lacey and tapped out a steady rhythm against his bass. Oz ate up the few steps between them and leaned into the microphone, his face next to Lacey’s as they both kicked off the next tune.
It was another fast-paced beat. Oz and Lacey sang duet on the refrain, and Lacey sang solo on the rest. It was about trying to escape something, being afraid you’d never be brave enough to take that first step.
Oz strummed his guitar, his gaze catching Maria’s, while he and Lacey sang about finding a way out. The lyrics were so heart-wrenching, Maria couldn’t help but wonder if Oz had written this song.
It was clear he was in a tight spot, working three jobs plus trying to get this band off the ground, all while supporting his mother and his nieces and nephew. It was so unfair.
Oz’s guitar riffs faded into Parker’s deeper bass notes, ending the song, and Maria surged to her feet, clapping. An “Ohmigod, that was amazing!” burst from her lips like she was a groupie at an actual concert.
Lacey laughed. “I guess we know that one’s a hit.”
“We already knew that,” Cash said. “We should be sending the single to radio stations and hitting up Octane on Sirius XM, but Oz has been too busy working.”
“Sorry I gotta make a living, man,” Oz snapped back.
“Hey, I keep telling you?—”
“Do not offer me money,” Oz warned his bandmate.
Cash thinned his lips and did not say anything more.
“Why does Oz have to do it?” Maria asked.
