FOR THE FIRST TIME, I truly got what the band was about. Each one of us had joined for a different reason. And each of us got a different payoff. Jerod could stand before the crowd like a pagan idol to be worshiped. Every girl in the place wanted to be with him. And every guy wanted his look, his moves, his voice, his godlike glow.
Butt wanted to smash and pound, like he had a Mack truck in each of his hands. Diesel engine stink, noise, and raw power.
Relly had his Ghost Metal.
And me?
I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. And I got that. Of course, I also wanted to be near Relly. But the real payoff that night was to hear my words huge and heavy, blasting out of the speakers. Jerod sang and shouted, yelled and yowled. Only it was me, not him, the crowd was listening to. For once, my voice was really and truly heard.
We came down off the stage and it was like we really were gods. I mean, I still didn't understand about tetrads and ancient, secret powers. But this made sense. People loved us. We'd grabbed them and shook them and they wanted more. We didn't have to burst into flame or make the rains come. This was the real magic power. Bass, drums, guitar, and a voice. That's all we needed to be gods.
What happened right after is all a blur. I was so cranked up I hardly knew who I was. But I do know that Kruel and Unusual actually heard our set and they were just as stoked as the crowd. The singer asked Relly if we could do some more shows with them, in other towns. He talked about real money. Not just a little handful of sweaty five-dollar bills.
Then he said his manager was there and did we want to talk?
So we squeezed our way out of the back room and headed for a table. "He loved your set," the Kruel and Unusual drummer said. "He wants to talk about where you guys are heading."
I took one look and froze. This manager was a creepy-looking guy with mirror sunglasses on. He had a drink in front of him and a ring on every finger.
"It's Scratch," I said to Relly. I felt my stomach turning and my legs starting to wobble. "It's Scratch. This was all a setup."
The place was so noisy, Relly didn't hear a word I said. I kind of hung back, fear gnawing at my brain. "Don't," I said. "Don't go over there." I reached for Relly, but couldn't hold him.
Relly went and so did Jerod. I guess Butt was still enjoying all the high-fives and backslapping.
"No," I groaned. "Don't."
Then the manager guy took off his glasses and relief flooded through me. No bulgy eye like Scratch. He said, "You were great, really something," and his voice wasn't the one I'd heard on the phone and on the bridge.
He stood up and he was way over six feet tall. "You could fill a place ten times bigger than this," he said. "A hundred times."
He shook Relly's hand. The crowd pushed me closer and he took mine too. I felt like a little kid again, playing at being a grownup. He held onto my hand. And my sickening dread all drained away. "I'm Ray Kola." He spelled it.
"I'm Zee," I said.
"Cool name." When he smiled, gold glittered in his mouth.
It wasn't Scratch in disguise, after all. Ray Kola was really his name and he really was a manager. I heard him talking with Relly about better gigs. I just let go then and kind of drifted, like this all was a perfect dream.
The fear was gone. Everything was going to be OK.
It was three in the morning when Butt finally dropped me off at my house.