Rocked in the Light

By Clara Bayard

Rocked, #9

Copyright © 2014 by Clara Bayard

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When the deep darkness recedes... 

After a series of bumps along the way, having to overcome external struggles and self-doubt, talented, curvy beauty Julia is finally living the life she always wanted. On the road and singing in front of thousands every night, she’s enjoying life in the spotlight. 

 And all your dreams come true... 

But when the man who has brought her pleasure and pain, Rick, Dream Defiled’s moody drummer, bares his soul and reveals that his band is struggling to survive, everything changes. Julia’s feelings for Rick and the surprising comfort of being surrounded by close friends leave her vulnerable in a way she has no idea how to cope with and she has to deal with the reality that nothing is as under her control as she thought. 

As the massive tour begins to wind its way around the country, Julia, Rick, and everyone around them may find that a meteoric rise to success can end any day. What really matters is who will be there to help you pick up the pieces. 

 ...Nothing looks the same in the light.

Dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-da-dum…

With a spotlight blinding me I strutted downstage in time with the drumbeat, my heels thudding against the stage, my hips swinging confidently. The roar of the crowd sounded distant and tinny, like the thousands of people weren’t really there. Like giant speakers filled the arena instead.

Dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-da-dum…

In a strange way, it comforted me to think that could be true. That this wasn’t the culmination of months of work. Well, a lifetime of work, really.

Dun-dun, dun-da-dum, dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-da-dum…

I could feel my legs shaking as I reached my mark. I raised my arm just as a series of lights running across the stage coalesced around me, bathing me in a bright halo of pink and orange. My lips parted, I took in a measured breath and began to sing.

Suddenly, as if the sound of my voice had broken a spell, the crowd was close. I could hear them screaming. Feel them surging against the barriers. Smell the excitement in the air. And as the rest of my backing band joined in and my voice soared above it all – loud and defiant and true, I was at home. Where I belonged. The only place that had ever really made sense to me.

The lyrics to “Bright and Early” rolled from my mouth automatically; the up-tempo beat energizing and relaxing me simultaneously.

Sliding smoothly into the first chorus I turned on my heel, letting my hair – a halo of fire under the lights – fly around me as I made my way down the gently sloping ramp to the narrow space filled with screaming fans on both sides. It didn’t matter that half of them weren’t here to see me. That most didn’t know the words I was singing.

Up there, above them but with them, I was alive. No doubt or fear or sadness or anger could touch me. I was a goddess of rock and no one could tell me different. No one could touch me or take this moment away.

People wonder why rock stars turn so frequently to drugs and booze. This is why. Because nothing in real life, nothing offstage can ever come close to the dizzying sensation of holding the gaze, attention and emotions of six thousand men and women in the palm of your hand with only the power of your voice and instruments.

And for me, even with a flood of anger and sadness threatening to drown me, being onstage kept me breathing. When, for the millionth time in my life everyone I care about disappointed, the show didn’t. The lyrics were there, dragging my voice and my mood along for the ride. The drumbeat told my body what to do and where to go. Hours and hours of rehearsing made everything second-nature so I could focus on connecting with the audience, drawing the crowd closer to me, giving everything and receiving it in return. This is what I worked for. This is what I struggled for. This bright moment under the hot lights.

And as one song blended into the next the euphoria grew and intensified. I felt taller and stronger. Like my legs, encased in snakeskin-patterned leggings under the leather peplum vest that matched my knee-high boots, went on forever. I was tall enough to touch the ceiling of the arena.

I sauntered over to my backing vocalist, Janine, and threw my arm over her shoulder. Our voices blended together, dancing in harmony, wail for wail, growl for growl. At the choreographed time I kicked up a heel, grinned and then strutted away. I owned the whole stage. What looked intimidating the first time I saw it was now tiny. Dwarfed by the magic of the music.

Time passed so quickly, before I knew it I was halfway through my set. The lights went down lower and I quickly stepped to my mark for “Up to Me” as a PA slid my guitar into its stand at the front corner of the stage. Matthew entered stage left and smiled at me before taking his place next to me, behind his microphone. In black jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, he was barely visible at first, just his face shining in the dim lights.

When we were both in place a single spotlight faded up to illuminate us, and the entire crowd went silent.

I licked my lips before speaking. “This song is called ‘Up to Me.’ It’s a new arrangement I worked on with my friend here. You might recognize him from Dream Defiled.”

The audience roared as he nodded, adjusting the strap over his shoulder.

Matthew picked out the first few bars of the song and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I lifted my guitar and joined in, drawing out the introduction. And then I sang. It was raw and beautiful and tears burned in the corners of my eyes.

“Fight a dragon in the air, always the hero, it’s never fair…”

I looked out at the few rows of faces I could see and every gaze was locked on me, crawling through the anguish of each word and soaring with the beauty of each note.

When the song ended the crowd erupted and I smiled. I gestured at Matthew and applauded, thanking him for accompanying me. He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the cheek and whispered, “You’re so open up here, but still strong. Remember that.”

My eyes widened but before I could reply he was gone and the band was preparing for the next song. Slightly flustered I fidgeted with my earpiece and pulled myself together.

And then, all too quickly, I was taking my bow and hurrying into the wings, headed for my dressing room. A PA handed me a bottle of water and helped me navigate the dark, crowded backstage area. I pushed through the throngs of people, smiling politely to the label reps and pointedly ignoring the video crew.

I could hear the sounds of partying from the green room and a few dressing rooms that belonged to the members of Playology, but I didn’t stop. I’d missed their set because I’d been downstairs warming up my voice, but I knew they’d been great. And I just wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

Once I made it to my own dressing room I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. Finally alone, I took a series of deep breaths and sank down into the makeup chair in front of the mirror.

Staring at my reflection, so many thoughts and emotions ran through me that I couldn’t catch one long enough to identify it. My face was barely sweaty at all thanks to the expert makeup artist. And my hair still looked almost perfect, if a little crunchy considering how much gel and spray had been used to make sure the sexy waves remained intact through the performance. My eyes were bright and slightly manic, my cheeks red from excitement and the heat.

I ran a finger down inside my vest and lightly grazed the pendant hanging in the hollow between my breasts. My skin was damp and warm. My heart was thundering. Tonight I was that star I’d always wanted to be. Always knew I could be. Singing my songs, my way.

While I was still basking in the moment there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Julia, it’s me, your…uh, Laura.”

I rolled my eyes. Some things never change. “Come in.”

She stepped inside, all smooth hair and crisp suit. The stench of her expensive perfume filled the small room and made my nose itch.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for a rock concert, Mom?”

She sniffed. “This is professional attire, entirely appropriate for my position as your manager.”

“Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“To congratulate you, of course.”

She walked over, effortless in sky-high stilettos. Her hand landed lightly on my shoulder and I turned back to the mirror. “You did very well.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling weakly. Looking at us there, mother and daughter, the likeness was undeniable. Even beyond the identical shades of red hair, mine natural and hers dyed, I saw my future in her face. The soft contours of my jaw and chin whittled down sharp, the wide sensual sweep of my eyes hooded and barely lined. So alike and so different.

“Well,” she said after a long moment of silence. “Just because the first show is out of the way doesn’t mean you can relax. It only gets more difficult from now on.”

I groaned. “Really? You couldn’t let me relax for five minutes?”

“You can relax when you’re old, Julia.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Fine.”

“So, tonight there are parties, of course.” She held up a hand as I opened my mouth to argue. “I know, I know. Don’t worry. You can skip them. I’ll explain you wanted to rest for tomorrow after so many long nights working. But you do have to put in an appearance at the fan event tomorrow afternoon.”

I sighed. “Okay. Can I go back to the hotel now?”

“I suppose. Although, it would be better if you spent some time in the green room. The camera crew wants to film some ‘backstage antics’ or what have you.”

My whole body tensed up. “No. I won’t do that.”

Laura removed her hand from my shoulder. “You can hate everyone if you want, but you’re going to have to be in front of the cameras eventually.”

“I know that,” I spat. “But not tonight.”

“All right.” She smoothed an invisible lock of hair back and checked her teeth for lipstick before retreating to the door. “It’s going to be a long tour if you spend every free moment pouting, Julia.”

“I know,” I said to myself as soon as the door shut behind her.

I managed to get back to the hotel without too much difficulty. One benefit of roaming every corner of the arena was I knew what exits would be easy to use to avoid the crowd of reporters outside and the throngs of people who didn’t have tickets for the show, but just showed up to – I don’t really know what – be a part of the event somehow, even from the parking lot.

I waited until I heard the audience screaming again, indicating that the headliners were playing. Then another few minutes to be sure everyone backstage would be busy doing whatever they do, and then I made my escape. One of the security guys walked me out to a waiting car and told the driver where to take me.

Then it was just a quick walk through the lobby and the casino and I was headed up to my room. I could remember the first few days, getting lost every time I tried to go anywhere. Now the place felt like home. Loud, smoky home full of drunken strangers, but home no less.