REMY knew the crowd watched him, and he liked it.
With a seductive sway of his hips and strum of his guitar, he began to play. In the first notes of his song, he nailed the guitar riff; despite the complex chords, his fingers flew.
They were shrieking and holding up signs, and the screaming was so loud, Remy wondered how they could hear him play over the sound of their voices, but that concern didn’t stop him. The electric hum of instruments gave him an instant rush, no matter how many times he’d performed.
He rutted against the metal base of the guitar as he swung his long dirty-blond hair, letting it caress his cheeks.
Yeah, fuck, yeah.
Pumping his hips to the beat, he strutted to center stage and began to sing. Young girls in the first row—and a few boys—had glitter paint on their faces. And they were crying, even as they sang along with Remy. The fans in the front were always the worshipful ones, while the crowd in the cheap seats always struck Remy as a murkier bunch, there to hear the music but also to escape from their mundane lives and be wild for a night. He smelled the air, tinged with pot and beer and expectation.
Arching his back, he raised his arms high, as if about to take a leap into the audience. For them, he put everything into his high note, ending the first song. His hair was tousled, and sweat covered him, but Remy kept his arms raised until the end.
“Hello, Athens! We’re so stoked to be ending our European tour here with all of you. It’s a hot night, isn’t it? Let’s make it hotter still.” Remy gave his thousand-watt grin. “Are you ready? Can you handle this?”
Their answering roar exhilarated him, and Remy sucked it in, getting even more pumped. He was going to give a fucking great show tonight; he could feel it. The world was nothing but the glitter of colored lights and the sound of his amps.
His drummer, Dave, was right on cue, heavy on the stick, matching Remy’s dancing. The hot stage lights were in his eyes, but he had done this so many times, he didn’t have to see. He sauntered toward his drummer, and they battled it out between guitar and drums. The stage vibrated under his boots. And Remy stomped, stirring the energy. The crowd went fucking nuts when the drum beat gave way to the notes of “Never You,” one of Remy’s best-known hits.
They played the first set, and it all felt normal. The fans were screaming, jumping up and down. Remy struck an exaggerated note, shaking his ass in his leather pants as he rocked the hell out of the chorus. This was his music. This was what he lived for. Remy used his whammy bar to make his guitar sound like a sad, final howl. His drummer tossed his sticks as if giving up the fight, as they did night after night.
As Remy started the next song, ready to bring out the backup dancers and really get into the music, a shattering crash, louder than his pounding speakers, made him glance at the audience. The crowd appeared to part straight down the middle. One of the fences separating the good seats from the lawn had collapsed. A battle cry sounded, and a small shiver went through Remy. The throng of security moved toward the area, trying to push the exuberant fans back. But they wanted to come closer. Elbows. Shouts. They kept coming.
Remy stuck to the routine at first, closing his eyes and concentrating on being pitch-perfect. Security had this. That was why he paid them ridiculous amounts of money. The main thing was to never stop the show. Since he was a kid, he’d never quit. He sang the chorus, and the notes sounded right. His voice was clearer and stronger than ever.
Then he looked up.
Some fans climbed the stairs that led to the stage with security unable to deal with the numbers. Others, caught up in violence, began to throw beer bottles and chairs at one another, smashing as much as possible. Dave stopped drumming abruptly and fled the stage, and his bass player began yelling at him.
Remy stumbled on a note. A loud thud to his left made him turn to see a rushing wave of people. His fans. Only they looked malicious and hungry, like animals ready to sink their teeth into their prey. Remy stood in the spotlight, knowing they were coming for him. A combination of shock and raw fear froze him in place. Now he could see their eyes and their faces glazed with desire and intent—to touch him, consume him.
And everything changed.