CHAPTER 3: BEHIND THE SPOTLIGHT
1044 Words
The ride home was anything but quiet.
Chelsea had been talking nonstop since they left the arena.
"I still can't believe he looked our way!" She squealed, clutching the glowing wristband she'd managed to catch. "Did you see his smile? Zira, if he ever smiled at me like that, I'd pass out on the spot."
Zira stared out of the bus window.
The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white as rain dotted the glass.
"Hmm."
Chelsea narrowed her eyes.
"Hmm?' That's all you have to say? We just watched the biggest band in the country perform, and you're acting like we went to a chemistry lecture."
"I wish we did." Zira said flatly.
"I thought you said you love listening to music" Chelsea recalled
"I like music, not concerts. The noise in there nearly blew out my eardrums, you all were all too loud for me..." Zira argued.
"Well, I loved every second of it-the music, the lights, the crowd, the vibrations. My adrenaline is still through the roof!" Chelsea said with a grin. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memories of the concert replay in her mind.
"Girl, people were crying. Someone proposed in the middle of the concert. I think I saw a grandmother faint."
A smile tugged at the corner of Zira's lips.
"You exaggerate too much."
"I do not!"
Chelsea leaned closer, studying her friend.
"Wait..."
"What?"
"You have been thinking about something ever since the concert ended."
Zira looked away.
"It's nothing."
Chelsea wasn't convinced, but she knew better than to push when Zira used that tone.
The conversation drifted Chelsea's endless theories about which band member could be secretly dating.
Zira barely heard a word.
Her mind replayed a different moment.
Not the fireworks.
Not the screaming fans.
Not even the music.
It was the drummer.
The way his smile had vanished between songs.
The way his eyes searched the crowd-not with excitement, but with quiet caution.
Like someone searching for a ghost.
"Wait." Chelsea suddenly said.
"I just remembered something."
"Did you notice something strange about Echo." Chelsea frowned.
Zira finally looked away from the window.
"...What do you mean?"
Chelsea heard her gaze.
"He froze."
The rest of the journey passed in silence.
Chelsea seemed content to stare out the rain-speckled window, while Zira's thoughts refused to leave the concert behind.
By the time the bus pulled to a stop outside their neighborhood, the rain had eased into a light drizzle.
"We're here," Chelsea murmured.
Zira looked up, unaware she'd been lost in thought the entire ride.
She stepped off the bus...
The familiar creak of the front gate greeted her.
She slipped off her shoes and quietly closed the door behind her. Tossed her purse onto the sofa and climbed the spiral staircase. Reaching her bedroom she pushed the door open and collapsed onto the large bed, staring at the ceiling.
She lay there for several minutes, staring at the ceiling. Every strange detail from the concert replayed in her mind. The drummer. His expression. The way he searched the crowd. It all felt like pieces of a puzzle she couldn't solve.
She closed her eyes.
Sleep never came.
She had spent years learning to ignore loose threads.
She searched for a simplest explanation.
It should have been enough.
It wasn't
Tonight, one demanded to be followed.
The more reasonable it sounded, the less she believed.
MEANWHILE, BACKSTAGE...
The concert venue had long emptied.
The deafening cheers had been replaced by the hum of workers dismantling the stage.
Echo slammed the dressing room door shut.
He pulled the in-ear monitor from his pocket and tossed it onto the dressing table before dropping onto the couch with a weary sigh.
Ryse twirled a drumstick between his fingers, a habit he never managed to break.
"You froze."
"Did the lights blind you?"
Echo shrugged. "I improvised."
Ryse snorted. "Improvised silence?"
Vail, the lead guitarist, laughed so hard he nearly dropped his guitar case.
"The crowd loved it." Vail wiped tears from his eyes. "They just didn't know the silence was part of the performance." Vail doubled over, one hand gripping his guitar case as laughter stole his breath.
"Bold artistic choice, even though it is a bold genre, not sure the fans are ready for it" Vex, the rhythm guitarist said, joining in on the joke, laughing along Vail.
"Give it a week. They'd call it avant-garde. I have an idea guys next concert," Nox announced
"We will all stand still for five seconds. It'll be our signature move."
"Performance art."
"Fans will call it symbolic."
"Critics will call it genius."
"Management will call security."
Nox, the man behind the keyboard says, later turns to sight vail falling on his knees, hitting the ground repeatedly, boasting with laughter, later stops laughing to catch his breathe. Then recalled Nox's statement and started laughing all over again.
Echo looked at them with a mixture of disbelief and exhaustion before narrowing his eyes at Vail, who was still trying to catch his breath.
"Finished?" Echo asked, his patience beginning to wear thin."
"Not even warming up." Ryse replied with a grin. But behind the smile, his eyes never left Echo.
The whole time Ryse was watching Echo's expressions and movements.
Echo caught Ryse staring.
He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck.
"It was nothing." Echo reassures him.
Ryse didn't blink.
"It wasn't."
Sitting quietly in the corner, Reign, the bassist, looked up from his phone.
"The fans noticed."
Silence settled over the room.
Damiane, the band's manager looked up from his tablet.
"The cameras caught it."
Echo frowned.
"Caught what?"
"You stopped singing."
"For almost five seconds," Damiane continued. "You were staring into the audience like you'd seen someone."
Reign exchanged a glance with the other band members.
"We noticed too."
Echo's jaw tightened.
"I thought I recognized someone."
"Who?" Damian questioned.
He hesitated.
"I don't know."
That was the truth...
Or at least the version he wanted them to believe.
Because the girl he'd seen hadn't merely looked familiar.
She reminded him of someone buried deep in his memory. The harder he searched, the further the answer slipped away. A memory he couldn't reach-close enough to feel, impossible to name
- Writer
