Punk Rock-A-Bye Baby(66)

He turned to head for the stage and saw Jessi running toward him. His heart soared the second he saw her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Lucas woke up and I wanted to make sure he was asleep before I left him with Mary.”

Tommy’s fingers never stopped gliding over the strings of his guitar, but he paused to kiss her. “I knew you’d be here. It’s not the same without you, hon. Love you to fuckin’ pieces.”

“Love you, too!”

He ran on stage with his heart sailing and slid on his knees to a stop somewhere at the apron. A spotlight hit him from above and circled him in a cone of vivid purple. He looked into the screaming faces of the fans. Fingerless, gloved hands waved rock and roll horns. Heads bounced across the surface of the crowd and mohawks jutted upwards with a stabbing beat. Their screams escalated when Damien strolled onto the stage, picked up his bass and slung it over his head. He stood in a triangle of deep blue and acknowledged the crowd with a one-fingered salute. Middle fingers saluted back and whistles pierced the air.

Jimmy jumped onto the riser and stood behind his Pearl kit. A warm yellow light illuminated him from above and set his drums aglow. He grabbed his sticks and raised his fists above his head. The crowd shouted his name.

They all waited for Angel. He was positioned at the curtain, his head held high, and his bare chest puffed out with pride. His focus was on the audience. Jessi tended to the last details of his outfit. She snapped spiked leather cuffs onto his wrists and secured a spiked leather dog collar around his neck. The heavy chain that hung from the metal ring at the center of the collar was connected to his belt loop. The man was a fucking rock god.

The crowd grew louder and stomped their feet, demanding Angel’s presence. Their chant no longer called the band’s name. It called Immortal Angel’s flashy front man.

Audra encouraged him to go on stage with a gentle nudge, but Angel shook his head. He was making the fans wait, just like he always did. The louder they called his name, the bigger his smile grew. Jessi laughed and Alyssa rolled her eyes, but Tommy was proud. Angel knew how to play the crowd. He knew what riled them up. He knew that the energy of the crowd fueled not just him, but the band and each other.

All heads were directed to the side curtain as they waited for Angel. Finally, he stepped forward into the dim shadows of the stage. The room erupted with loud whistles and fists held high. Shouts from the fans were undecipherable under the heavy barrage of voices.

Angel walked with purposeful long strides to the edge of the stage. The heavy chain that hung from his neck caught a glimmer of light, but he remained otherwise in the dark. He stood perfectly still at the center mic. The spotlight hit him with a deep red ember, and he was engulfed in a raw flame and shrouded by the smoke and fog. The menacing spikes on his cuffs and collar picked up the hue like blood-soaked metal. His head swept the room, and then his eyes went to the balcony. The people were mere dots in the distance, but Angel always acknowledged them first. His fist went to his heart, and then he pointed to the balcony. Hands waved back and shouts rose from the crowd.

Angel brought his fingers to his lips and spread his arms wide open to encompass the fans in front of him on the floor. The arena exploded with return greetings of “FUCK YEAH!” and “WHOOT!”

Angel dropped his arms and two large mortars went off somewhere at the back of the stage.

Tommy jumped at the unexpected explosion of noise. Damien had a smile tucked in the corner of his mouth, and Jimmy had his hands over his ears. The lights went up, the crowd burst into another loud roar, and Cyanide Sensation exploded through the sound system.

Angel swayed from one leg to the other and extended his crotch toward the audience. The chain attached to the collar around his neck dangled and bounced off the center of his chest. Tommy watched it swing and listened to the metal clink together. He imagined yanking on it and holding Angel prisoner. He moved closer, a little at a time, crouching in the haze of the fog machine.

Angel was too engrossed in his performance to notice that Tommy had snuck up behind him. The fans were aware, but didn’t know what to expect. Their loud cheers captivated Angel and held his attention.

Tommy reached for the chain and wrapped it around his fist. He yanked on it and forced Angel to his knees.

The smile on Angel’s face was filled with naughty mischief. He sunk down and slithered on the floor around Tommy’s ankles and pawed at Tommy’s legs.

Tommy yanked on the chain and pulled Angel back up to his knees. One large boot landed on Angel’s sturdy shoulder. Tommy leaned down and let out a massive blast of notes on his Les Paul. He let his fingers fly over the fret board and doubled up on the chords. It gave Cyanide Sensation an extra jump in timing and amped the adrenaline-fused beat to the next level.