Page 53 of Rock Out Together
“We’re on after this song, Jake.” My guitar player, Rowan, handed me a mic. I took it and adjusted my leather jacket, ready to rip it off when I got on stage.Gotta look the part, Jake.At least I didn’t have to wear the dark eyeliner since we were at the beach.
I loved metal—really, I did—but I wasn’t fond of the dramatics. Flashes and bangs while on stage, looking like a grunge biker. We’d fought long and hard to get our contract with Clarke Records and to have our tour lined up for this summer. That included looking the part. But when was it going to end? The weight of the persona sometimes felt heavier than the music itself.
We’d insisted on playing at the RageTide Festival before touring. Performing here was a major inspiration when we first started jamming as teenagers in my garage.
“Dude, we’ll know we’ve made it when we headline at RageTide.”
Now here I was, on the side of the makeshift stage on the beach, looking out at the packed crowd with the water in the background. I was in heaven.
“Cameron’s really spinning them up out there,” Rowan said. On stage was the opening act, Crimson Abyss.
Cameron was Abyss’ lead singer, who fancied himself my mortal enemy. We’d gone head-to-head in aBattle of the Bandscontest two years ago in Miami. Cameron hadn’t taken Steele Horizons’ win well, or the fact we’d made it out of Florida with a recording contract and a world tour scheduled with our two number one singles.
“Dumbass,” I muttered. I felt bad for the guy, but I wasn’t wasting any more energy on it. There were bigger fish to fry, especially with our next world tour looming large. The national press was about to swamp us, so I had to get ready.
The crowd abruptly roared. The mosh pit was going wild, and I immediately saw why. It seemed like accidental crowd surfing as a girl was thrown from person to person. My heart fell to my feet at the look of distress on her face. Her wide eyes and flailing arms screamed panic, and something protective surged in my chest.
The Jumbotron turned the camera to her, and I could see her trying to regain control over what was happening. Shewas only wearing a T-shirt and … were those Care Bear underwear?
I ran to the edge of the stage and tapped the security guard’s shoulder, pointing toward the woman with the—dare I say it—great ass. He saw her distress and acted quickly, muscling his way through and rescuing her from the crowd to wild cheers of:
“Care Bear! Care Bear! Care Bear!”
Sounded like the crowd had noticed her underwear, too.
Grabbing her, he carried her bridal style and handed her to me. I didn’t know what he thought I could do, but I pulled off my leather jacket and wrapped it around her waist, giving her the modesty she clearly wanted. I stopped cold when I finally got a look at her face and saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her vulnerability hit me like a gut punch, and I wanted so badly to shield her from this chaos.
“Hey, hey …” I pulled her off stage, rubbing my hand over her back. “Delay the set!” I yelled to Rowan, taking Care Bear to the back. I sat her on one of the small couches they’d set up in an air-conditioned tent for Steele Horizons. I grabbed a bottle of water from the tub filled with ice and various beverages on a nearby table.
“Take a sip. You’re okay.”
She sipped the water, taking deep breaths to calm herself. After a minute, she wiped the tears off her cheeks, her mascara only slightly smeared.
“Thank you,” she choked out. “I don't know what happened. I left my friend to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, she was on the other side of the crowd. I justtried to … I tried to walk through, and then I was in the air.” A sob escaped her. “My skirt was too big, and they …”
“It’s okay. You’re safe.” I kept my voice steady, but my heart was pounding with a mixture of anger at the crowd and relief that she was here, safe with me. I didn’t know what to say or do to make this better. “Do you want me to find your friend?” I wasn't sure how I'd manage it with so many people, but given what she'd been through, I'd find a way.
She nodded and then told me where I could find her friend, Zara. From how she described her friend’s mirrored shirt, it wouldn’t be hard to spot her under the bright sun. Popping my head out of the tent, I relayed her description to the security team.
The girl sat back, regaining her composure. I took a good look at her. She was sweet and innocent. Her long, warm brown hair hung heavily disheveled, eyes glassy with her tears. Her skin was sun-kissed, with small freckles that danced over her collarbones. Her delicate features and the way she clutched my jacket made my chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.
She had on a tattered old yellow cardigan over a gray tank with lettering. I totally cracked up when I read it.
“You’re laughing at me? After I got mauled by the crowd?” she asked, her voice high and defensive.
“Whoa there. I was laughing at your T-shirt. It’s funny.” I grinned, hoping to coax a smile from her. Anything to erase the fear that still lingered in her eyes.
Before he could say more, a woman came rushing through the tent flaps, her arms flailing.
“Emily Lane, what the hell were you thinking? Surfing the goddamn crowd?” She threw herself between me and Care Bear on the couch, her concern for her friend making her wild.
Emily hugged Zara, her eyes closing, relief spreading across her face. She was so beautiful, even when she was upset. Every emotion that came across her face was breathtaking. Her raw authenticity was something I hadn’t seen in a while—not in this polished world of music and fame.
“I’m all right. I’m okay,” she chanted, consoling her friend.
For me, crowd surfing had always been a liberating experience of letting go and trusting the crowd to take me. It was scary and exciting because I knew I could get hurt at any moment.
But for a woman to be grabbed and carried in the melee of a mosh pit without consent? Bad things have happened at the center of the mobs. Crowd surges that led to concussions, head injuries and being trampled. Sexual assaults happened in the mass of anonymous bodies gyrating together. They were a reality at rock concerts, but we always had extra security to prevent these types of things.
