CHAPTER 29
THERE WAS SOMETHING PHENOMENAL about being one of the performers in front of the huge crowd. From afar, what I read on their face was definitely written on mine also. The piercing timber, the whoops of excitement, the palpable bump of their hands in exhilaration, they barely contained the gladness as if they were inebriated and patiently waiting for our turn—the band. For the years I’ve studied at the Sunset Boulevard, I am no more than a part of the crowd. And I doubt what it takes to think who among the mass are supporting us because being a performer is not to entertain but to influence others. “You’re on edge, home. C’mon, hold my hand,” Acherous noticed as he walked up to me and put his hands on my hip then scooted me closer to his body. He would be that much relaxed and seemed to
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