Page 104 of Playing the Backbeat

Dylan walks off stage, the curtain dragging over the floor as it opens wide to reveal…kids. There’s got to be almost twenty kids on stage—maybe between eight and thirteen years old—all with various instruments. Six singers, a few keyboardists, guitarists, and bass players. There are four drum sets arranged in the middle of the stage behind the singers. I squint, trying to figure out if I really see…

“Uh, Dee?” Carissa asks. “Is that your niece? Did I just walk on the set ofSchool of Rock?”

I shake my head as I scan the crowd again, spotting Kai and Morgan off to the side, taking pictures of Emi.

Emi stands and bangs her drumsticks together, screaming at the top of her lungs, “A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four!”

My ears are assaulted with the most chaotic musical arrangement I’ve ever heard in my life. The amount of passion and enthusiasm pouring out of each kid as they perform is trulysomething special to witness. After a few minutes, the first song wraps. With every song, their nerves seem to settle, and their playing only improves. By the end of the show, everyone is dancing and cheering, and the applause is louder than most of our typical concerts.

Tears find their way to my cheeks and my heart squeezes as I see Dylan rejoin the kids on stage and he motions for them to take a bow, first by section, then again as a group.

I laugh as Emi races toward Dylan and forces him to bow as well. He might look more bashful than I’ve ever witnessed, but he does it, and her grin is contagious as he smiles back at her.

Then his eyes lock with mine. And I give him the brightest smile I can before I whistle and clap along with the crowd. The curtain closes and I realize I’m crying behind the bar. I quickly wipe my cheeks.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Carissa muses, studying me carefully with a knowing grin.

“It was a long time coming,” Vicki says confidently.

“I can’t believe they pulled it off,” I say. “Those kids just had the night of their lives.”

Ed stands there uncomfortably before Dylan joins us. I expect him to go to Ed, to talk to him about what he just did against his wishes, but he comes straight to me.

“Well, that was quite the show,” I say quietly.

“Here. I figured by the surprised look on your face, you didn’t see a copy of tonight’s program.”

I take the pamphlet from him, confused until I look it over, my eye catching on the dedication at the bottom.

This show is dedicated to Deanna, for letting me borrow her bravery. For reminding me to fight for this.

“Dylan, I—”

“That was something else, Brooks,” Ed says, voice stern.

Dylan looks surprised to see him.

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear when I said I wasn’t willing to invest resources into events like this.”

I sense a shift in Dylan, more attuned to him than I realized. His back straightens and his voice is steady when he says, “These are the events that deserve the investment. But if it’s a hardship, I will fund the cost of tonight’s show myself.”

Ed bristles, clearly called to answer for insinuating that a kid’s concert should come second to financial gain.

“We can talk particulars…” Ed shifts uneasily, checking his watch.

“We can, and we will. Ed, I have always respected you. I have given my all to this place, to its staff, to the community that comes together inside these walls. The Bridge isn’t just an investment to me. It isn’t a profit margin or a bottom line or a means to an end. It’s a haven for people who want to feel something, who want to create something, who want to witness something. I forgot to fight for that.” He gives me a look, and my heart swells with pride. “If you sell this building to the highest bidder, I’ll understand your decision, though I won’t agree with it. But if you sell it to me, I will make you a fair offer, and I will make itmatter. Like it matters to the kids you saw here tonight.”

Ed stares at Dylan. Dylan stands proudly, his shoulders back and a renewed strength radiating from him. His presence feels larger than life. I’m so proud of him, I could scream.

I nearly do, about to jump in and give this Ed a piece of my mind, when he surprises us all…

“You’re right,” Ed says. “I know you’re right. I’ve been ready to retire for years; I don’t need the profit, like you said. I lost sight of that. I lost sight of everything that I felt in this building when I found it decades ago. Let’s sit down next Friday and talk specifics.” He reaches a hand out for Dylan, who shakes it. I catch the slight tremor before he can hide his nerves, and a wave of affection floods my veins.

He did it. And he was terrified. My turn.

Chapter forty-eight

Dee