Page 48 of Dedicated
“Why didn’t you mention the song before, though? We could’ve worked on it this afternoon.”
“I was just going to save it and then—Ev, we were flailing up there. It felt like the set was about to come apart.”
“You flubbed our first opening, and yeah, I screwed up the next few parts but—” He threw his hands up, then raked them through his hair and I had to curl my hands into fists to resist reaching out to straighten the disheveled strands.
“I was trying to get you out of your head and me out of mine. And it worked. Perfectly in fact, if you were listening.”
Evan paced alongside a bunch of old amps and record crates and rubbed a hand over his eyes irritably. “What if it hadn’t, though? Because that could’ve easily been a disaster.”
I caught him by the arm and held him still, putting my hands on his shoulders as I spoke, trying to counteract the edginess I could feel under my fingertips with the softness of my voice. “I can’t tell you how I knew it would work, but I did. You’re brilliant under the gun even if you think you’re not. Even if you think you need all this time to work shit over. Fuck, I—” I paused, wanting to make sure what I was about to say didn’t come out wrong. “I guess maybe I just wanted some proof that we still had it on stage after everything that’s happened lately. And we do, Ev. That was the proof.”
He sighed, his expression softening, and when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against my shoulder, it felt so fucking good to bear his weight. But it was brief. He took a deep breath and then a step back, shaking out his hands like he was casting off extra energy. “Okay. I’m good. Let’s finish this.”
It happenednear the end of our last set, and despite Dan’s assurances, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Every one of our shows came with its fair share of commentary and shouts from the crowd, and this one was no different. All night we’d been bantering back and forth with the audience, joking around between songs. Usually what came from the crowds was flattering stuff, and a lot of times related to music. Other times it was off-the-wall shit from a random troll or someone who was fucked up that we’d ignore until it faded to background noise of squealing fans and random cheering. But sometimes someone would say something loud enough and at just the right time for it to reach us onstage clear as a bell. Some chick once yelled out that she hated my haircut. It came at this really weird lull between songs at a smaller venue, and I’d had no idea how to respond.“I’m sorry?”I’d said, and everyone had laughed, the girl included, especially when Evan tacked on,“I don’t know if you know this, but his hair actually has a fan page. You should lodge your complaint there.”My hair actually did have a fan page at one point. I thought it was defunct, though, now.
Crowd dynamics were weird, and they were especially noticeable tonight when Evan and I were only about five feet away. So when some dude about seven heads back yelled out, “Who’s the catcher?” everything got eerily silent again the way it had when I’d refused to play “Blue” earlier. I didn’t have to glance at Evan to know he was scowling, and I was readying a light quip back when someone else shouted, “What the fuck does it matter?”
The security guards beside the stage glanced at me, and I shook my head.
“I’ve got this,” I said. I had a great speech for such occasions because the question was universal and annoying as hell, not to mention fucking personal. I didn’t ask someone what position their girlfriend liked it best in. That shit would get you looked at weird. Okay,maybeI’d asked it a couple of times, and I understood the curiosity. But still.
Evan cut in before I could get started. “No you don’t. I do.” He glared at the guy. I could see his pulse hammering at his throat. “That’s the stupidest fucking question we’ve ever been asked in all our years of making music together. Congratulations. Now get the fuck out.”
I stared in shock as he spoke. He sounded so matter-of-fact as he said it, but there was a poisonous lilt to the words I’d never heard from him before, and the way he was standing, with his hand strangling the neck of the guitar and the slight tremor that passed along his jaw, told me he was furious. He’d never snapped on stage before. I relaxed slightly as the guy started through the crowd for the door when he saw the security guards heading in his direction. Then he fucking piped up again. “I guess that answers that.”
Nice. Power dynamics. I had a speech for that, too, but I didn’t get the chance because, quicker than I could comprehend, Evan wrenched his guitar over his head and took off, barreling through the swarm of people on a mission to… I didn’t even know what. A ripple ran through the crowd, and the security guards at both ends of the venue started pushing toward the center. Chaos exploded and I couldn’t tell what the hell was happening. Everything became a tangle of limbs and motion mixed with a lot of yelling and scuffling. I lost track of Evan, and when I started to rush into the fray, a strong pair of hands latched around my shoulder and dragged me backward.
“I’ll find him, go out the back,” Dan growled. I ignored him and started forward again only to be yanked back roughly by my T-shirt. “Don’t make it worse. Go on.”
The front doors crashed wide, and the fire alarm went off as someone shoved the side exit open. People poured out in droves as I snagged our guitars and jetted backstage.
* * *
Evan hada thin cut on the corner of his mouth, a goose egg on one temple, a scrape on his cheek, and the knuckles of his right hand were swollen. He wore a scowl a mile wide as he slumped into a chair at the back of the shop, plopping the ice pack Dan brought him against his temple before he let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. Security had pulled him from the melee. Dan had talked the other guy, who was in equally rough shape, out of pressing charges by mentioning the words “inciting a riot.” I had no idea if that would really fly, but it seemed to have worked, because the dude had stumbled off without another word when his friends collected him, or so Dan had said. The guy had clearly been on something.
Dan had apologized profusely, and I’d apologized in return because shit, I knew the last thing he needed was a stampede where someone got hurt in his shop. Luckily, security had managed to break up the fray, and most people had stayed out of the way and pushed for the exits as soon as the fighting broke out.
“What the hell kind of Jekyll and Hyde bullshit just happened?” I didn’t say it angrily, but it was forceful because Evan’s reaction was so uncharacteristic.
His head snapped toward me, and he gave me a slow blink, like I was an idiot.
“That? That was exactly why this whole charade was a stupid fucking idea in the first place. From now on we’re going to be fielding dumbass questions like that, and guess what, when it ‘leaks’ that we’re not a couple anymore, it’s going to be a whole other set of questions.”
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of what we signed up for.” I wasn’t disagreeing with him, but it was what it was.
“No. I signed up to make music, not to be asked whether or not I’m taking it in the ass. I don’t even know why they care.”
I slid down the wall to sit next to his chair. “Because you’re you, Porter. You put out music that resonates, that people feel to their core. They want to know what makes you tick and how you fucking do it. It’s fascinating to them. Getting all the little details, they can share in that. It reminds them you’re a human, too. Because otherwise? You’re an enigma. You rarely talk about anything personal, so it’s exciting to feel like they’ve been let in. Why do you think I air all my laundry in public? It’s not just because I don’t give it a shit. It’s about counterbalance, too, and it’s part of why we work so well, I think. Tonight will get spun however it will, and we can just let it. Because none of it fucking matters as long as you and I know the truth and know what we are.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to question that, too.” He let out a rough exhale and dragged the ice pack over his eyes.
My breath felt as if it’d been sucked from my chest. I reminded myself that he was just reacting to the situation and he’d cool off. But before I could do anything else, he tossed the ice pack aside, launched off the chair, and cut out the back door into the night.
Dan grabbed me as I started to follow.
“What is it with you and grabbing me tonight?” I asked, struggling to wriggle free from his grasp. He was a strong dude. “He has the fucking car keys.”
“Give him the space. I’ll take you back.”