Thoughtful(11)

Denny had always been fascinated by my ability to play and sing, and he’d always pushed me to use it. “You have God-given talent,” he’d say. “Not doing anything with it would be a waste.” When he’d found out that our school was having local bands play junior prom instead of hiring a DJ, he’d urged me to put a group together, and had even cleared it with my father.

Not only had Denny been a bright spot in my past, he had unknowingly given direction to my otherwise meaningless life. He’d set the mold for my future, and I would do just about anything to return the favor.

I was whistling when I walked into Pete’s that Friday night. Jenny gave me a look that clearly said, What’s with all the joy? I shrugged. “It’s Friday. TGIF.”

Jenny laughed at my answer, her blond ponytail bouncing around her shoulders. Leaving her, I walked over to Sam, the bouncer at the bar. Stretching out my hand, I showed him my spare house key. His brows bunched together and his lips compressed. “We moving in together? You’re great and all, Kellan, but I like living on my own.” His voice was deep, husky, and perfectly matched his absurdly large muscles. I swear the man’s biceps were as large as my skull, and I wasn’t sure how it was physically possible, but he had no neck whatsoever.

Chuckling, I shook my head. “Denny’s coming in tonight. I’ll probably be onstage. Will you give him this for me?” Denny and Sam had been in the same grade during high school, and the three of us had hung out a lot while Denny had been here. As soon as Denny had called me about a room, I’d told Sam.

His huge fist closed around the shiny metal. “Sure thing,” he gruffed, shoving the key into his pocket.

“Thanks!” Clapping him on the shoulder, I turned and headed toward my table.

Evan and Matt were already there. Griffin was having a conversation with Traci near the bar. And by conversation, I mean Traci was rapidly telling him something while he blinked with a dumbfounded, confused expression on his face. Matt watched Griffin with a smirk on his lips while Evan cuddled with Brooke. I guess she’d said yes when he asked her out. Well good, that should make him happy for a bit.

Two seconds after I sat down, two girls approached me. Pulling chairs in so they were on either side of me, they spoke at almost the same time. “Kellan Kyle! We love your music!”

Their eyes were darting over my face and body, and I wondered if they meant what they’d just said. As courteously as I could, I replied, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Both girls feverishly flirted with me until it was time to go onstage. I was certain I could go on a date with either one of them, if I wanted. Maybe both, if they were up for it. I didn’t ask though; my mind was other places. Denny would be here soon.

When it was time for us to go play, a familiar feeling washed over me—anxiousness mixed with peace. As I walked up the steps to the stage worn with use, I felt the remnants of who I was melting off me. Onstage, none of my worries touched me. It was like I was a different person. Like I was acting, and yet I was being more truthful than I ever was off the stage. I bled my heart out while I was performing, not that many people truly noticed; they were too busy enjoying the showmanship to dig beneath the surface of the words. There was safety in the scrutiny, anonymity in the spotlight. I felt invincible up there. Just me and my guitar.

Behind me was the coolest backdrop of any stage I’d been on to date. The wall was pitch-black, and covered with old guitars in every shape, size, and model you could think of. None of them held a candle to my simple acoustic instrument though. Sometimes the most beautiful things in the world were overlooked because of their flashier counterparts. I preferred quiet beauty.

As I gripped the microphone stand, I shifted my gaze out in front of me. Ear-splitting screams blended into one giant wall of sound. Girls of every race, age, and size were jockeying for position in front of my feet. I smiled down at them with an expression that was as much encouragement as it was a come-on. They ate it up, jumping and waving their hands so I’d notice them. I lifted my eyes to take in the crowd farther back from the stage. Clumps of people surrounded the various tables. The bar was packed. Good. I liked playing to a full house.

“Evenin’, Seattle,” I murmured into the microphone.

The girls right in front of the stage started shrieking again. One of them to the left of me slumped like she was fainting. Luckily one of her friends caught her and helped her to her feet; I’d hate to be the cause of someone getting seriously injured.

“Everybody doing okay tonight?” I asked while Matt, Griffin, and Evan got situated. There was a flurry of answers from the bar, most of them of a positive nature. I glanced at my bandmates, saw that they were settled and ready, and turned my attention back to the crowd. “Let’s get this party started then!”