Page 71 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

The champagne bomber came free beneath the gold wash and landed exactly where wardrobe had marked the floor. Fans screamed when the ivory henley pulled tight across my chest during the dance break.

Cassidy stood near the left wing.

Her attention moved across the seats, the access point, the rail, and the crew shifting behind the curtain.

Then I crossed into the next formation and caught her watching me.

I smiled into the lyric.

Her expression didn’t change, but her chin lifted slightly.

The first song ended beneath a wall of sound.

We moved directly into the second.

By the third number, sweat ran down my back and the pavilion had become one moving field of hands, phones, and faces. The fans nearest the barricade sang every word, including the new verses released only a week earlier.

Their voices met mine on the chorus, and I gave them everything I had left.

The dancers cleared for the acoustic section. A crew member passed me the guitar, and I stepped into a single white spotlight.

The pavilion quieted.

“This next one came from the years when I wasn’t sure I’d ever stand here again,” I said.

A few voices shouted my name.

I adjusted my fingers on the strings.

“I wrote it before I knew what coming back would look like. Tonight, I know.”

I played the first chord.

The arrangement opened with guitar and voice, without a track, choreography, or old band footage behind me.

I played the song I’d written after the noise disappeared and I had to decide whether music still belonged to me without Sunday Drive.

My voice held.

Thousands found the chorus and sang it back.

Near the wing, Cassidy rested one hand against the barrier. The dark mark on her arm showed beneath the lights.

I played the final progression and let the last chord fade.

For one quiet second, nobody moved.

Then the pavilion exploded.

I lowered my head as applause rolled beneath my shoes.

The band returned for the next transition, and I traded the guitar for the microphone. We ran the dance-heavy middlesection, then brought the energy down again for the piano ballad.

I crossed to the rear riser and sat at the keys.

The opening notes came easier than they had during rehearsal.

Vince’s text came back to me: Take the stage for yourself tonight. I did.