Page 147 of Between Never and Forever
She laughs as the person on the other end says something.
“Yeah, well, I had a near-death experience yesterday, so I think I’m allowed.” She pauses. "Chill. I’m fine. I'll explain later.” Another pause. An eyeroll. “No, it wasn’t anything like that.” She quiets again, listening to the person on the other end, and then she smiles. “Sounds good. See you soon.”
She hangs up and passes over Red and Sharon before setting her eyes on Brynn and me.
“What are you guys doing tonight? I have a little surprise for Boss.”
Sharon parks my truck two blocks from the riverwalk, and Brynn can’t stop bouncing. I have to remind her three times not to run as we walk to the downtown concert series stage.
According to the fliers, tonight is supposed to be an eighties tribute band, but I know Savannah has done something. I’m nervous as hell. Excited for Brynn, but terrified. I’ve checked the internet every fifteen minutes since Sav left my house this afternoon, but it’s nothing new. Same speculations about Savannah’s relationship with Paul fucking Northwood, but nothing else. Not even a headline about Savannah’s mishap with the rapids or her late-night ER visit.
My back stings at the memory. The nausea and dizziness are gone, but the scrapes on my back still burn, and my head still hurts as soon as the meds start wearing off. It’s been a little over twenty-four hours, but I’m fucking over it.
“Do you think she’s playing?” Brynn says with another bounce. “Oh my god, I hope she is. That would be phenomenal. Iconic!”
“Prodigious?” I ask and she grins.
“Prodigious!”
When we get to the small stage set up on the riverwalk, I spot Red and Ziggy immediately. No Savannah. He waves us over and we follow him to a spot roped off next to the stage.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise. My muscles go rigid.
“What did she do?” I say to Red, and he shrugs.
“She does what she wants,” he says pointedly.
Fuck.
My eyes dart around the space, but no one seems to be expecting anything other than an eighties tribute band. The signage is still advertising the scheduled show. Nothing mentions The Hometown Heartless at all. But I know. Even before the familiar guitarist, Jonah, steps on stage, I know, but that’s when the crowd start to murmur.
“Oh my god,” Brynn whispers. “Oh my god oh my god, Dad. Dad. Dad. Can I have your phone? Please? Please? Please!”
I take my phone out of my pocket and hand it to Brynn just as Torren fucking King steps on to the stage and picks up his bass.
“OH MY GOD,” Brynn squeals, and I watch as she pulls up the camera app and points the phone at the stage. “Oh my GOD, Cameron is going to die.”
The crowd around us gets louder.Is that Torren King?TheTorren King?When Mabel Rossi takes a seat behind the drum set, everyone goes nuts. I hear The Hometown Heartless shouted, whispered, chanted all around me. Brynn is practically vibrating, and I hold my breath as I wait for Savannah.
She loves a dramatic entrance. She waits until the crowd starts yelling her name before she finally steps foot on stage, her signature white electric guitar in her hand and my old bike lock around her neck. She looks straight at Brynn and winks before speaking into the mic.
“Hey, Wilmington, how you doin’ tonight?”
The crowd roars and shoves to get closer to the stage. The whole time, Red stands facing them, his back to us, like he’s our personal security. And the dog? She lounges at Brynn’s feet, like she’s used to the chaos. Living with Sav, I’m sure she is.
“I know you were expecting to hear some eighties jams tonight, and you still will, but the band has been kind enough to let us open for them. I hope that’s okay.”
More screams and shouts. More applause, and Savannah laughs into the mic.
“It’s settled, then. Wilmington, let’s rock.”
Briefly, I wonder if being in this noise is smart, considering I still have a concussion, but the moment Sav launches into a song I recognize, the worry disappears. The song is another angry alt rock track that dominated the charts when it first released.
Her voice, still raspy and sexy in a way that sets my gut on fire, becomes something even more powerful when she’s on that stage. Her energy is electric. The most beautiful, controlled chaos. Her emotion is palpable with every syllable, every note. The pain is just as raw as when she penned the song. Everyone in the audience feels it, too, because you can hear it as they sing along.
Oh baby, place the blame on my name,
I know you’re dyin’ to do it.
