Page 50 of When the Stars Rise
A boy in his early teens: My brother died last year. It still hurts so much but your music makes it better.
I stop reading the signs when Hayley removes one of her earpieces and leans down, trying to hear what someone is shouting.
“You want to see Noah?” she says into the mic.
One question from Hayley, and now her fans are screaming my name.
Oh, hell no.
I duck farther into the shadows and glare at Dean when he laughs and points to some girls up front. “Look at that. They’ve got a photo of you and everything. They ship you and Hayley. Or should I sayNayley?” He shakes his head in disgust. “Kids today. They’ll fall for any guy with a six-pack, won’t they?”
I snort and pray like hell that Hayley won’t give in to their demands.
I’m fundamentally opposed to mob mentality. Large groups of people are frightening. They become sheep.
Think for yourselves, people.
But nope, that’s not happening. “Noah, Noah, Noah,” they chant, and I can tell by Hayley’s mischievous grin that she’ll grant their request.
“Who wants me to get Noah up here?” Unsurprisingly, the audience erupts into cheers. They would cheer if she asked them to stand on their heads and whistle Dixie. “I think we can arrange that. Come on out here, Noah.”
The cheering reaches ear-splitting decibels, but my feet remain rooted to the spot.
“What are you waiting for?” Get out there.” Dean gives me a big shove, and I shoot him another glare.
“What’s the matter? You scared?” he goads.
I sigh, hating that Hayley put me on the spot like this, but I’m not about to back down from a challenge, so I jog up the stairs and stride onto the stage.
Moving to her side, I give her a look that says,Happy now? Don’t pull any more tricks.
“Here he is.” She sweeps her hand toward me like a game show host, revealing a prize. “The man, the myth, the legend. Noah! McCallister! Can I get a drumroll, please?”
Now, she sounds like a WWF announcer. Aiden does an extended drumroll followed by the crash of cymbals and it’s all so over the top, it’s ridiculous.
“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” I mutter as I wave to the crowd like a politician campaigning for reelection.
Hayley gives me a look that says she’s only just getting started. I’ve lost count of who’s trying to get payback for what.
It was a mistake to turn up at that club the other night, and okay, maybe I overreacted. But what the fuck? I have two eyes, and it was clear that Asher, the douche, was hitting on Hayley.
I spoke with him after Hayley left and confirmed he’s an asshole.
He was using her. It made him look good to be seen with her and helped him get a record deal.
“That’s how the music business works,” he said with a casual shrug. “It’s who you know.”
I would have punched him in the face if there hadn’t been so many people around. I didn’t want it to end up in the tabloids or do anything to cause Hayley further stress, so I just told him to stay the hell away from her and walked away.
In the greater scheme of things, Asher Keating doesn’t matter. He’s inconsequential, a mere blip on the screen.
“Funny story about Noah,” Hayley says, drawing my attention back to her. “When we were kids, one of my favorite songs was the Beatles’ ‘Here Comes the Sun.’”
I have a bad feeling that I knowexactlywhere she’s going with this story.
“Back then, Noah would always sing it with me. As we got older, he stopped singing because he was Mr. Cool. But sometimes, when I was feeling down, he would still sing it to me just to make me smile.”
A collective aww goes through the audience. I’m glad they think it’s cute. I’d love to wring her sweet little neck for dragging me out here.
