Page 110 of Steady Stroke
“You’re right. I’ll see you up there.”
“Yeah.”
Emmett left the camper, and his presence was instantly replaced by a grinning Dominic. He handed over Lincoln’s QChord case.
“So which urge is stronger?” Dominic asked. “The one to kiss me or to kick my ass for meddling?”
Lincoln huffed. “I can’t kick your ass until after we play.”
“But you two are solid?”
“Time will tell.”
He shouldered his case and followed Dominic outside for warm-ups, keenly aware that the clichéd statement had never been more true in his life. Never had so much ridden on three minutes of time.
Please, don’t let us fuck this up.
TWENTY-FOUR
The backstage areawasn’t as terrifying as Emmett had imagined it to be. Probably because only a handful of acts were performing on opening night. Show founder and crazy popular artist Anthony Kross was currently doing his set with the competing band Chasing Daydreams, which had won the popular vote online to play opening night.
They were good. Really good.
Another band was set to go on right after XYZ, but Emmett couldn’t remember their name. Two albums out, they were getting a ton of promotion for a third, and had a popular single set to break out any moment.
Once upon a time, such a thing had been Lincoln’s dream. Maybe it was still possible, maybe not. But Lincoln was going to get his moment to shine, no matter what. And Emmett was going to help him.
Dominic had been the sneaky one who’d cracked the plan. He’d also been the one to convince Benji to fake a sore throat today, so that Emmett could sing. All three of them had agreed that this was Emmett’s best chance to prove to Lincoln he wasworth a second chance. He had to prove that he could support Lincoln no matter what.
He had to show Lincoln how much he loved him.
Right after he threw up again.
Emmett made it to the trash can before he hurled, yacking up the final remnants of his dinner. Not that there was a lot to come back up. He’d been wound tight all day long, and he’d barely managed half of a turkey sandwich and a few pretzels from one of the booths. Lincoln handed him a bottle of warm water, so he could slosh and spit.
“It isn’t too late to let Trey do this,” Lincoln said.
Not for the first time, either.
“I’m doing this.” Emmett straightened. His stomach was still squirrelly, but being close to Lincoln helped calm some of his nerves. He knew he wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else. “I promise you, Linc. I can do this. Do you believe me?”
“I believe that you believe it.”
Onstage, Kross wound down a frenetic—and somewhat edited—cover of “Down with the Sickness,” to a lot of audience appreciation. The noise only reinforced how big a crowd was out there, but Emmett couldn’t focus on that. All he could think about was the four guys going onstage with him in a few minutes. Of singing a song that meant so much to him to a man he loved with his whole heart.
Nothing else mattered.
“Thank you, thank you!” Kross’s voice echoed through the various speakers. “Up next, we have another special treat for you folks. We did online polls this spring, asking you all who you wanted to see from last year’s category winners, and the people have spoken. While they aren’t performing together anymore, we did find three of the four original members of XYZ.”
The name caused a slight frenzy of applause and cheersthat made Dominic do a giddy little dance. With Benji on the keyboard and Lincoln providing bass, he was playing his violin tonight—his first time ever with Lincoln and XYZ. The pride Lincoln constantly shot Dominic’s way told Emmett without words that this was a big deal.
“Joining XYZ members Benji Moore, Lincoln West, and Dominic Bounds”—big cheers for Dominic—“is current Fading Daze percussionist Andy Compton”—a wolf whistle for Fading Daze—“and making his Unbound debut, Emilio Sharif Westmore.”
Emmett’s insides seized up and he stopped all forward motion. Lincoln crashed into him from behind, and when their gazes met, Lincoln lifted his sunglasses. Emmett saw the challenge in Lincoln’s eyes. The challenge for Emmett to go out there and embrace not only the spotlight, but himself in it. To take this final leg of his journey toward self-acceptance.
Lincoln dropped the glasses, then held out his hand. Emmett took it, and they walked out onstage. Into the heat of the stage lights, dimmed to levels that Lincoln could tolerate. He ignored the sea of people in front of him, barely obscured by the lights all around them. He went to the microphone stand near Lincoln’s chair, both of them nearly center stage. Emmett kept his back to the audience while his bandmates for the night settled in.
Andy gave his drums and cymbals a few test taps, then nodded he was ready. Benji gave a thumbs-up from behind his keyboard. Dominic placed his chin on the shiny violin’s rest and touched the horsehair bow to strings. Emmett turned to face Lincoln, whose entire face was lit up bright. He smiled in a way that Emmett had never seen, with an excitement he wanted to bottle up and keep forever.
