Page 74 of Falls From Grace
If everything that mattered to her in the world was all going to come to a head in one damn night, then she was going to throw everything she had at it. She would end tonight knowing that she had done absolutely everything in her power she could.
Which meant walking onto the biggest goddamn stage she’d ever seen in her life, for a rehearsal at four o’clock on the afternoon of the show, and not instantly passing out at the unbelievable sight of 70,000 empty places that would soon be filled. It meant not freaking out that she’d briefly forgotten the lines to Snow Day and hit a flat note in Real Estate as they marked out their paces and trusting she’d get it right when the whole damn world would be watching.
It meant stopping her brain in its tracks - as the day grew dark and the time ticked down closer to showtime - from gasping on loop: Savannah is here, somewhere in this building Savannah is here, and wondering at what point she’d suddenly run into her and need to somehow say actual words.
It meant locking herself alone in her dressing room, after her hair and makeup had been done, pacing around in her tailored goddamn sequined suit and talking herself down from hyperventilating.
Brynn finally stopped turning in circles and stared at herself in the mirror. The woman that looked back at her startled her. The insanely expensive suit was black and sparkled in the light, the jacket cut to show bare skin and cleavage. Her hair was professionally tousled, her eyes extra dark under the liner and lashes. She looked hot as fuck. She looked like a goddamn star. But it was the look in her eyes that shocked her. She’d thought she was barely a minute from losing her shit, and yet the woman in the mirror looked confident as hell. She nodded at herself.
When the knock on the door finally came, Brynn strode out. She could already hear the roar of the immense crowd and the feeling swept her up like a tidal wave as she joined her band in the wings of the enormous stage. The piped in music went quiet, the stage lights went dark and the crowd screamed in anticipation.
Noah turned to her. There were no words left; they’d been saying them to each other all week. Instead, he just grinned at her, his eyes blazing absolute adrenaline and joy, and swaggered out on stage, in view of 70,000 people, who sent another wave of overwhelming noise at the sight of the opening band beginning to take their spots. Brynn counted down another 15 seconds, her life flashing before her eyes. Then she strode out onto the stage to a deafening roar and picked up her guitar to sing.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Savannah locked herself in her dressing room. She looked in the mirror and despite all the regular trappings, tonight, instead of a rockstar, all she saw was a small and extremely anxious looking woman. The knock on her door came.
“It’s time,” came the voice, and Savannah made herself cross the room to open the door. Coral straight up choked back a laugh when she saw her face. “Oh honey.” She grabbed her hand. “I’ve got you.”
They made it to the wings just in time for her to see Brynn, less than ten feet away, striding out in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans, like she’d done it a hundred times. Her suit sparkled as the lights came up, guitar in her hands, her chin held high, and Savannah wondered if this was what it felt like to have a heart attack. Then Brynn’s voice rang out across the gigantic arena in a husky rasp.
“Your heart is my only home and I’ve been evicted,” she sang the opening line to Real Estate, then the guitars, bass and drums all smashed in at once and the crowd went wild. Through Savannah’s headphones on the bus and in hotel rooms, the song had been a devastated howl, but here, storming a stadium, it sounded glorious. She was squeezing Coral’s hand so hard her best friend turned to stare at her, and they both burst into massive grins.
Brynn looked and sounded like a fucking superstar. The outfit, the hard strum of her guitar - which, if she’d only been passable at like she’d claimed, she’d done a hell of a lot of work on - the rhythmic bounce in her body; Savannah could not stop staring at her. She was so different to the woman she’d been curled up with at home in Vermont, and yet somehow, Savannah realized, Brynn had always carried herself exactly like a rockstar, with her artful slouch and confident movements. It was one of the first things that had attracted Savannah to her. And here it was now, fully realized.
When the song ended, the crowd’s applause was rowdy and Savannah was just close enough to see the wide-eyed grin that Brynn threw to Noah as he caught her eye, in reality as well as on the huge screen behind her, projecting her beautiful face in LED out over the massive crowd. She was clearly having an incredible time.
“Hello, Los Angeles,” she said easily into the mic. “You’re looking fucking beautiful tonight.” The crowd roared as she flirted with them, and Savannah couldn’t blame them for it one bit. The opening notes to Jane rang out, a band pianist playing the first ominous chords, then Brynn all up wailed her temptation, her remorse, her demons and Savannah found she was shivering like she had a fever. Coral felt it and kept gripping her hand. When the song hit the intense musical bridge, Brynn casually bumped the pianist off the bench and took over, smashing out the notes herself to the absolute delight of the crowd, her body arching back and forth as she played, before letting him swap back in as she returned to her mic for the song’s dark conclusion.
Her set was tight, all hungry and dramatic alongside Brynn’s comfortable showmanship. She made soft songs like Buddy and Frozen Rain epically beautiful in the huge cavernous space, her voice soaring out into the night sky, Savannah weeping helplessly at hearing what had once been their private heartbreak hit the mark with 70,000 people.
The band smashed through Dropout and Savannah lost Coral, who was straight up jumping up and down and dancing along with Jed and Travis in the wings. Then, as the final notes faded out, a small rowdy group of fans at the front started shouting, “Savannah! Savannah! Savannah!” impatient for the main act to start and Savannah cringed.
On hearing it, Brynn cupped her ear toward the crowd.
“Who’s getting excited to see Savannah Grace tonight?” She smiled widely into the mic. Oh my god, Brynn was pumping the crowd for her. Okay, well, that was just adorable. “Do you love her?” she continued, waiting for the crowd to finish screaming their enthusiastic response. “I know you do. Not like I love her, though,” she said with a flirtatious smirk. Savannah went still. The crowd loved it: it was a clear reference to their duet and famous video, or was it? Brynn had to know she was there, watching. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Did Brynn just use the present tense despite this long, drawn out year of silence?
“This song is for Savannah,” Brynn said, simply. Then she launched into Rock Bottom, the blast of her and Noah’s guitars drowning out the crowd’s excited response.
Of all the songs to dedicate to her. If Brynn had wanted to deliver a grand gesture she could have picked the romantic, heartbreaking Without, or the melancholy, sweeping beauty of Snow Day, songs Savannah quietly adored. But this song? She stood in the wings and could only watch as Brynn tore herself to shreds, exposed all her faults and scars, her face contorting with pain and rage at herself. And then the key change, that devastating, hopeful key change and Brynn’s voice soared.
I’ll warm your feet, I’ll hold your nights,
I’ll be your home, I’ll fight your fights
I’ll kiss your scars, I’ll heat your bed
I’ll be the place for your weary head
I’ll keep your heart safe, I’ll keep your heart safe
I’ll keep your heart safe, I’ll be your saving, Grace.
The song wasn’t asking forgiveness. It wasn’t begging for a chance. It was a promise.
Coral came and wrapped her arms around her from behind and held her tight as she sobbed. As the song reached its epic conclusion, the final chords sounding, Coral grabbed her arm to turn her.
“Come on,” she said gently. “You cannot be here looking this soggy when she walks off stage feeling eight feet tall.” Savannah let herself be pulled away into the corridors backstage. “Besides, we go on in half an hour, so you’re going to have to get your shit together.”
