Page 1 of Reckless

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Gage

“Gaged! Gaged!”

The crowd chanted the name of my band, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

Strobe lights bolted through Madison Square Garden like shards of sunlight breaking through clouds. Streaks of light highlighted random members of the screaming, writhing crowd below the stage.

The excitement in the atmosphere was palpable. A trickle of sweat raced down my neck, making me shiver with anticipation.

I loved this moment.

When they couldn’t see us yet, and energy made my heart leap.

I dreaded this moment.

When that same heart would bleed as surely as the fact that I couldn’t go back and change the past.

The first notes from Andy’s guitar pinged from the speakers, wrapping around my nerves, squeezing tighter and tighter with each pluck of his fingers.

I loved performing, loved the fans, loved the music. Loved this song. And hated it.

It made me restless. Reckless.

I closed my eyes, letting the music take me to where it always did. Away from the past.

Except for this damn song.

Riding on the tension strumming through every tendon in my body, I gripped the microphone and gave all my attention to the fans who had put us here on this much coveted stage.

“Is everybody ready?” I cried as the heat of a spotlight hit me, blinding me to anything a foot past my microphone.

The ocean of people below cheered, fans nearest the stage screams discernable from the rest. A few women were even shedding tears, and of course, showing more than cleavage. I knew I could have any one of them, but first, I had to survive the trip down memory lane.

“I said, are you ready New York?”

As slits of light danced onstage, tantalizing the crowd, I darted my eyes to Ben Vessey. Sitting behind the drums, his black hair was shooting wildly in every direction. He gave me one sharp nod, silently communicating that we were ready, and raised his drumsticks for the intro.

The crowd’s pandemonium reached a new height as we exploded into our first song, our breakout hit, “Yours Now.” Always a crowd pleaser, we’d been singing it as our opening song since our rise to fame.

At. Every. Single. Gig.

It was the song that ultimately propelled us to worldwide fame. I’d suggested that it could be cut now—multiple times—since we were an international sensation, but I got shot down instantly each time by our manager. So we had no choice but to play it.

Which meant that I had no choice but to grit my teeth and hold on until it was over.

I gripped the mic tighter as an image of the “raven-haired beauty” depicted in the lyrics flashed before me.

Blue eyes that glimmered with warmth, much like sun hitting the lake on a summer day.

Curves that she didn’t know she had because she was always too busy rescuing some animal.

Lips, once kissed, never allowed me an uninterrupted night of sleep since.

Pushing the tormenting image away, I focused on a blonde sitting on someone’s shoulders, beckoning to me. I didn’t want to think of the dark-haired goddess ever again.

Right.