Love and Music

The night of the gig comes quickly and we all prepare by wearing at least one thing that represents Britain, me in my favorite pair of British flag earrings. I arrive at the show that night and find Alex and Ace backstage. I walk over to them, ready to perform my usual pre-show ritual with Ace, but when I get up close to him, I can tell something's wrong.
“Chase and Nadia have been out back arguing pretty badly,” he tells me, reading my curious expression.
“Are they going to be alright?” I ask, looking toward the back door and wondering what's going on. Behind it, I hear muffled yells from Nadia and Chase.
“They'll be fine. Don't worry about 'em,” says Alex, standing up from his chair on the side. He whistles at me. “Damn, Chey. You look good.”
I smirk and roll my eyes. “You ready for our ritual, Ace?”
“As I'll ever be,” he answers. We both get our feet moving as fast as we can, running in place, and grab hands.
“Who's the man?” I ask Ace.
“I'm the man,” Ace responds.
“Who's gonna rock this show tonight?”
“I'm gonna rock this show tonight.”
“Who's gonna become rich and famous.”
“I'm gonna become rich and famous.”
Ace finishes it by lifting me bridal style and spinning me around. We don't know why we do this ritual every time there's a show. It's just always worked to clear his nerves.
Half an hour passes by and soon people are starting to file into the room. I'm preparing at my merchandise stand and smiling at the people who pass by...that is until I see Nadia storming off and yelling over her shoulder at Chase, who is going after her.
“You know what! Have fun trying to get big and famous without me because I'm done with you and I'm done with this damn band! Go to hell, Chase!” she shouts.
Chase's anger is starting up from what I can tell and he yells back, “Fine! We don't need you here anyway!”
And with that, Nadia storms out of the building, leaving me staring, mouth hanging open, at the two. Chase turns to look at me.
“Backstage meeting, now,” he says authoritatively. I scurry from my stand after Chase, apologizing to the fans that he rudely shoves his way through in his haste to get backstage. When we're all together, Alex and Ace are beginning to look nervous and Chase is pacing back and forth. I'm keeping close attention on the three of them, just in case one tries to take a head dive off of the front of the stage.
“I don't know what we're going to do guys,” Chase admits. “Nadia and I broke up and she said that she was done with the band.”
Alex thinks quickly and offers, “Can't you sing the songs, Chase? You wrote them, after all.”
Chase shakes his head as a response. “These songs were made for a girl's voice. I can't hit the notes I put in there and it's too late to adjust it. Plus, no one else knows the harmony but me.”
“Can't you just go apologize to Nadia and get her the hell back here?!”
“It's not that simple. She's long gone by now!”
“We can't just give up!”
“Do you think that I want to, Alex? This band becoming famous is my dream, too!” He sighs. “Listen, I don't think that we can perform tonight with one member short. We're going to have to tell the crowd that the show is canceled --”
“Cheyenne,” Ace says, as if a lightbulb just went off in his head. My head snaps to him and my eyes are wide.
“What about Cheyenne?” I ask cautiously, already afraid that I know the answer.
“You sing! You have a great voice and you know all of the songs! You're perfect!” he exclaims.
I shake my head very quickly. “Um, no no no. I am not going to sing. I mean --”
“Why not?” interrupts Alex, jumping onto the bandwagon. “You auditioned for the band originally. We know that you can sing and you know everything there is to know about us and our music. Ace is right!”
I look at Chase for some sort of backup and see he is struggling with some sort of internal conflict. Finally, after some time of silence, he looks at me, and already I know what he is about to ask.
“Please, Cheyenne. Please, go out there and sing with us,” he almost begs.
And there it is. The pleading look in his eyes that will make me feel terrible if I reject him. But I don't know what else to do. Do they really expect me to sing in front of all these people? Do they expect me to be half the performer that Nadia is? I look at them all and stutter a few times.
“Chase...I-I don't know if I can. I'm not Nadia --”
Ace makes his way toward me and grabs my shoulders forcefully. I stop talking abruptly and look up at him.
“Who's the woman?” he asks me, shaking me gently.
“W-what?” I ask.
“Who's the woman, Cheyenne?” he repeats, this time more firmly.
I take in a deep breath and exhale my reply quietly. “I'm the woman.”
“And who's the merch girl we'd do anything for?” he asks.
“Me?”
“And who's the merch girl with one of the best voices I've ever heard?”
“I am?”
“Now, who's going to help us become rich, famous, and successful tonight?”
“Me.”
By this last response, my voice is stronger in my attempt to become confident. He smiles and hugs me. Alex grins and pats me on the back sportingly. Chase simply lets his mouth take off to tell me the songs, cues, solos, and everything else I need to know. He keeps on this until just before the point when we have to go on the stage and I'm starting to freak out.
“And remember, the order is Forever Ago, Vendetta, Paper Masks, and then Throw You Back. Talk a lot in between sets and always, always --”
“Chase!” I yell to get him to stop talking. “The only thing you're doing by constantly reminding me is making me feel even more nervous!”
The corners of his mouth lift slightly and he pats me on the back. “You'll do great, Chey. Thanks for doing this.”
“Not like I could really let you guys go down without a fight,” I say, my lips tugging upward into a slight smile.
I can hear the crowd chanting our name and my heart drops. Chase puts a hand on my shoulder in a supporting manner.
“I'm going to go introduce us. Come out when you hear your name, okay?”
I nod and he leaves for the stage. Ace and Alex pass me and smile. My heart at this point is going a mile per minute and I can't seem to control it. My mind fails to comprehend my thoughts and too soon, my feet are moving me against my will toward the stage. I hear cheers as I step out into the view of the audience and try my best to at least look calm. As I reach the microphone, I put on my best smile and hope that it seems as if this isn't my first time doing this.
“Hel-lo New York City! Are you guys ready to rock?” I yell into the mic. If there was an actual response, it was drowned out by the noise of shouts and cheers.
This time when I smile, it is genuine. I turn back to my fellow band-mates and say, “Guys, you heard 'em. Let's kick it!”
I spin myself back toward the audience just as the guitar starts up and as the music flows through me, I feel as though I finally know my place in this world and I never want to let it go.