Thirty-Nine

What were you supposed to get your eighteen-year-old girlfriend as a gift to say 'Good luck at your first concert with your new band'? Alcohol was not a viable option; it shouldn't have even been on the table. Yet I was holding a paper canister of four craft beers from World Market as Devon smiled cheekily at me.

I cocked an eyebrow. "You know I can't drink this for three years, right?"

"Why not?" He smacked his forehead. "It's root beer. Not actual beer. They wouldn't sell a minor beer."

I inspected one of the bottles. "No, this is actual beer."

"What?" He snatched one of the bottles, read the label, and groaned. "The dude said this was root beer."

I slid the bottles back into the canister and placed it on the coffee table. "It doesn't matter. It's the thought that counts, and I am very grateful for any gift from you." Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him softly. "Thank you, hot stuff."

He snickered. "I love how you can say that so genuinely."

"Why would I say if it's not genuine?" I asked, pulling away before slapping his ass. "I find you to be quite attractive."

Devon smirked as he slid up to me. "I find you to be the real hot stuff in that outfit." Leather leggings, a short leather jacket, white crop top, and combat boots. He wasn't wrong.

"Oh please. I'm sexy, and you know it."

"When are you not?"

"Are you two done?" Jeanie asked as she walked into the room.

"Not so much fun to hear the words compared to saying them, huh?"

"Shut up," she muttered. Stretching her arms beside herself, she asked, "How do I look? Will I fit in at the club?"

"You look beautiful no matter what you wear," I promised.

"I'm surprised you're going," Devon said. "I thought you didn't want people to know you're related until after Mel moves out?"

"We don't, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy a nice concert with a local band. Doesn't mean my new coworkers and I can't go out and see a live band. Doesn't mean I can't live stream the concert to my fans and subtly promote my little sister's work," she cooed, cupping her own cheeks and giggling.

"Do that, and I'll kill you," I deadpanned.

"Why not get some promotional work?"

"Because then my classmates will swarm me about how you were at my concert and ask a million questions about whether I know you or got to meet you, and then people will do more digging and eventually find out we're related." I glared at her. "I don't want death threats because I'm related to you. I want death threats because people are jealous of my incredible drumming and popularity."

"I don't think you should be wanting death threats to begin with," Devon stated. He wrapped his arms around me. "If someone finds out, I'll be there to protect you."

I smirked and snuggled deeper into his arms. "Ooh, like my own bodyguard, huh?"

"Don't go making it kinky," Jeanie demanded.

I dramatically sighed and made a scene of rolling my eyes. "But, Jeanie."

"Shut up," she laughed before facing Devon. "I'm sorry you aren't able to come with."

"It's okay. Brody is going to be recording most of it anyway, so I'm going to see the clips tomorrow at my next meeting."

"Or," Jeanie smirked, "you can see it live via my live stream-"

"Absolutely not," I stated.

"Fine," she groaned. "We should get going, though. I'll see you later, Devon."

"Right." He nodded as he followed us out of the house.

Jeanie walked to the car, and Devon and I stood on the front steps. He placed his hands on my hips as he kissed me softly. "Good luck tonight," he murmured.

"Thank you."

"Call me later if you can. I want to hear all about tonight."

"I will."

^^^

I was so grateful to Devon. No matter what, he was always there to make sure I made it to rehearsals on time. He was always supporting me and driving me to the Clubhouse and letting me get in practice time without bothering me about how I should spend time with him. He was patient and supportive, and it sucked he wouldn't be there tonight.

But Brody was there for me. So were Rick and Jeanie. They sat in a booth off to the side of the stage in a roped-off section. No one seemed to know Jeanie was there, so the concert could focus on us. I just needed to make sure she didn't start live streaming us on one of her social media platforms or anything.

But if she did, I didn't have the right to yell at her for it. She bought me my own drum kit and gave me my own soundproof room at home to practice in. She was incredibly supportive, always had been. So if she was going to show her fans parts of our show, I would smile through it and not get too worked up over it. I just had to make sure she didn't zoom in on me or anything. That would give us away.

"These shows always kill me," James sighed as he flopped down on the couch next to me. I glanced at him, and he stared up at me with glossy eyes. "They're going to kill you, too."

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?"

He chortled. "I hate the shows where I can't bring Petula with me. I love having her in the audience. She gives me someone to sing to. Now I have to sing to some random face I can't see."

"You can sing to my sister," I suggested. "She's sitting in the VIP section."

"Your sister came today?" he squealed.

I nodded, excitedly. "We've figured our shit out since the variety show. She even got me my own drum kit for the house."

"That's great!" He sat up and crossed his legs flamboyantly. "You're doing great. You were great at our last rehearsal. You do your job correctly and accordingly. You're prepared. You've got this."

"I like this pep talk more," I joked.

James shoved my shoulder as he stood up and outstretched his hand to me. "Let's do this."

-

As I played on stage, I understood exactly what James meant about wanting to play for someone. I may have had Brody and my sister and Rick out there, but it wasn't the same as the night of the variety show. I had my closest friends there to support me. I had Buddy and Darcy. I had Devon. I played for Devon. And while I still gave it my all, I wished he could have been there in the audience. I wished he could have been someone I was playing for that night.

"I may not be there, but I'm still here for you," he said. While Nate and James were up front for a few acoustic songs, Lucy and I sat in the back and I called Devon. I missed him. I wanted him to be out in the audience tonight. Tonight was special. I wanted him to be part of it.

"I know you're here in spirit, but I still wish I could see you in the audience."

"I may have a solution for that."

"You will not sneak in here."

"No," he laughed. "I'm going to call Jeanie, ask her to video chat. Then I can see you."

Going back out for the second half was more exciting than the first. Jeanie screamed loudly for me, and I knew that meant she had Devon cued on her phone. He was out there, watching me live. I blew a kiss to him, and I swore I heard him cheer for me.

I played for him. Maybe playing for someone wasn't the best way to go about music, but having someone to play for made me feel motivated. I used to play to find a band. Now that I had one, I needed to get an album, start touring, become famous. But none of that was going to happen while I was in high school. If I was going to keep my energy up, give the band a reason to keep me, I needed to play for something. I needed something to chase. And even if I had Devon, I was still chasing him, wanting to give him that same electrifying feeling I knew he felt when I played my solo for him. I wanted him to feel that way every time I played. I wanted everyone to feel that every time I played. That began to playing for him.

My solo was for him. My solo was to move him. If I could move him, I could move anyone. At least that was the way I preferred to look at it. And the screams of the audience. Oh, they loved it. They loved me. I played for everyone, a full three minute solo with its ups and downs. They started screaming a minute in, refusing to stop until the song was over and James was out in a new sparkly top and heeled boots. I wanted to hear that every time I played.