“I want it right now, so what do you say we skip this club and go home?”
“This place is packed,” I said, ignoring him and peeking over shoulders, only to see more shoulders. “I love this song.”
“What is it?”
“‘Talk Tonight’ by Oasis.”
I listened as the guy singing nailed the vocals, his voice soulful and raspy. I began to try to squeeze my way through the crowd.
Emo’s was about twice beyond capacity. Nate nodded. “He’s good. I’m getting a beer. Baby, what do you want?”
“Nothing for now. I’m still full from dinner.”
“Go.” Nate nodded toward the stage neither of us could see. “I’ll find you, but don’t get started on a story, woman. Mexico, tomorrow.”
“Hey, lady!” Casey, one of the managers of the club, came up to me. “Where the hell have you been? It’s been like two months!”
“Busy. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a shit. I haven’t been able to answer all my emails in months. So I finally decided to take you up on one of those beers you promised.”
“It’s the least I can do for you writing that piece about the renovation. I still can’t believe how you twisted it. Made this place look a national treasure.”
“Looks like business is doing well,” I said, looking around the expansive club. It was almost unrecognizable from my first years in Austin. Still, in its walls held memories no paint or shiny new metal could erase. I cleared my throat.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
“It’s awesome, right?” Casey said, looking toward the stage.
I swallowed hard as awareness pricked my skin and the crowd began to part.
Look up, Stella.
Static filled my lungs as I finally got a clear view of the stage. My stomach flipping, as Ben led the audience into a steady clap while Reid belted out the lyrics, his soul echoing through the club, uncompromisingly raw. My world tilted as I drew a breath and then another in an attempt to stave off the emotion that accompanied my utter shock.
Casey leaned in. “They just came in and said they wanted to borrow the stage. Can you fucking imagine? I guess they were feeling nostalgic. Word’s spreading quickly, we’ve upped security and the line outside isn’t going to make it in.”
Casey’s words splintered into background noise while I nodded. “Crazy thing is they’ve been playing covers all night. None of their own songs.”
With my heart fumbling over itself in rapid succession, I gripped the side of a cocktail table as I watched Dead Sergeants play like the world-class band they’d become. I hadn’t seen them live since before they got signed.
That shock was enhanced by the voice that sounded like a broken angel and it belonged to none other than Reid Crowne.
Reid Crowne was singing.
I sputtered something to Casey in agreement as I shook violently in my skin. Reid was shirtless, his T-shirt tucked into his back pocket. A new wall of tattoos covered his right side from his pec and spread over the rest of his chiseled frame. Inescapably beautiful, he pushed his rhythm, his eyes closed, while sweat dripped from his temple. He sang the story about a girl who fed him, about a girl he wanted to talk to from miles away, which he only spent a moment with, a girl who saved his life. He landed his beats expertly on the drums, the drums I won him, as he gouged my heart with his beautiful voice. I jumped as Nate slipped his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers. I gripped his fist tight as the song finished. The audience roared as the guys grinned back at Reid and Ben addressed the room. “Thank you. We’re just here to pay our respects to this great place that helped give us our start,” Ben toasted, a beer in hand with a nod toward the bar. Jon, who was still behind it years later, lifted his chin and raised his beer to reciprocate. “We promise never to fucking forget where we came from, Austin.” The patrons roared in praise as we watched on and Nate leaned over to Casey. “The Sergeants, right? Holy shit, you’ll be steady for the next six months.”
“I know, right?” They shared a smile as Nate gripped me tightly in his hold while the rest of me fell to pieces.
I was still reeling as Ben charmed them with his reverie. “Remember to tip them, folks. They aren’t here because you fucking smell good, because I can smell you from here and I promise you don’t.” Laughter and anarchy rang out back at the stage as he looked out amongst us. I could see the satisfaction in his eyes, the collective memories circling over the band’s heads. I felt immediate pride that I had been there to witness their beginning. They’d been on tour for the last eight months to sold-out stadiums. Their tour had cemented them as rock gods. Realizing their dreams must have made them reflective, and in doing that, it must have seemed fitting for them to finish the tour where it all started. Home. And Emo’s was home.
“Tonight’s about giving thanks and taking it back. So, here’s a little something we brewed up for you.” He nodded at Reid who held his sticks loosely as the room went dark. The bass sounded first before the echo of the snare, and I damn near fell forward in recognition. Adam and Rye joined in on the acoustic as Reid’s snare echoed in a dark tap, reverberating throughout the building. The thud of the bass shook me mercilessly, refusing to let up until it penetrated deep and to a place that had only been touched . . . by one.
“Oh God,” I said weakly as the spotlight hovered on a keyboard and Ben started pressing out the melody that I’d followed my whole life. My heart thudded as unsteadily as my breathing when Reid opened his mouth and began to ask me questions.
Jaw shaking, eyes flooded, I took a step forward, and then another, and then another as Reid’s edgy voice broke over the mic, raw and full of emotion.
In a sea full of strangers, Reid sang to me.
My favorite song, covered by his favorite band, the Deftones.
“Drive”.