“Here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Aren’t you up watching?” I’d figured she’d be there with Pete and Ferdie and everyone else.
“Na, I’ve been hanging out with Holden, sorting out last minute shit. Are you coming up to watch?”
Alex’s set would be just about over, so I grabbed a beer and went with her.
As we walked up the ramp, I could hear music. They must’ve just gone into their final song. As we got closer, I realised what the song was. I grasped Carlie’s hand. There was no way he was performing that song.
I ran up the ramp, thinking maybe I’d been confused. But no, there he was, on that stage singing Jake’s song, the one he’d refused to let me play.
Now I understood. He didn’t want me to have it because he wanted it for himself. The song hadn’t been completely finished when Jake had died and I’d added my own touches. Those were gone, replaced by the parts Alex had written, but the core of the song was still Jake’s. Alex had stolen it. That was facts.
Pete had to be around somewhere. I pushed through the bunch of people standing at the side. One woman pushed back and I stumbled but Carlie was right behind me.
I caught Pete’s eye. He grinned. Did he even realise what Alex played? How could he just grin like that? That guy had his own agenda, that much I’d figured.
A rage welled up in me. When I’d played this song, Alex had unplugged the sound desk. He’d controlled me. He’d silenced me, just like he’d silenced justice when Jake died.
But I was powerless, just a tiny girl with no way of fixing this situation. I had to stand by and watch him steal something from me. Not even from me, but from Jake’s memory.
I trembled, my whole body shook as though the anger in me was too much to contain.
He got to the chorus and the way he sang that line was exactly the same as Jake had sung it. Did he even have a thread of creativity in him or did he just steal everything from others?
The blood pounding through my body cut through even the bass beat from the speaker stack. There was no stage, no crowd, nothing but Alex standing in front of me, stomping all over the brother he’d killed.
My hands balled into tight fists. I couldn’t pull the sound; I couldn’t demand he stop. I couldn’t use my parent’s wealth to buy my own way. But the anger grew inside me.
Some force took over my body, like an evil spirit born from my anger.
I rushed the stage.
Flying.
Sanity fled, leaving me alone with my desire to stop him.
With a massive lunge, I tackled Alex to the ground. All the noise stopped. Only a rush filled my ears, like the ocean swelling.
The thud jarred me as I hit the hard floor but Alex’s body partly cushioned my fall.
The two of us became a mess of limbs and cords on the stage floor. My arm hurt but my heart hurt more. I’d done something.
Awareness of Alex’s body hit me. He grappled with me, trying to get me off him. I struggled and flayed, not sure what to do now that I’d done it.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yelled.
What the fuck was I doing?
Hell, the music stopped, the crowd screamed.
Powerful arms grabbed me, dragging me away.
Fuck.
I got dragged backstage but, with the adrenaline rush over, I went quietly. In the empty room, the realisation of what I’d done flooded me. I’d tackled Alex, mid-song. I’d stopped him playing.
Holden would be livid. I’d ruined his gig. Alex would be livid too. He’d probably kill me for it. This thing I’d done was huge. Not just huge but done in front of a crowd of thousands. I’d be remembered for this. Remembered as the crazy bitch who’d taken the guitarist down mid-song. I’d be hated, reviled.