“See you at your place tonight?” Brayden asked.
I nodded, my heart full and my face hurting from the smile I couldn’t wipe from it. “Tonight.”
I couldn’t wait.
nineteen
Keeley
Ihadn’t been to the Fonda Theatre before, but it was such an epically cool venue. My head was on a swivel. It was beautiful—historic and charming—and I wanted to take in every detail. It was an old-world theatre like the ones in the movies from the 1920s, intimate, but also big enough that a crowd could pack inside. That was exactly what was happening tonight. It was Spencer’s first sell-out, and the mood was electric. Every person in the crowd was jumping. So was I. I couldn’t wait to find our seats and watch Spencer.
“Tickets?” the usher asked with a smile. I showed her my cell phone, and her smile turned into a knowing grin. “Ah, our VIPs.”
I furrowed my brow and looked at the others. “VIPs?” I mouthed to Kamirah.
She smirked and hooked her arm through mine. “I love that he’s spoiling you. This is going to be so much fun!”
The usher led us through the doors to the main floor, where a performer was already on stage. We followed the usher along a walkway to the front, and through the barrier that separated the standing room area from the stage. She unclipped a velvet ropeto a VIP section that was front row, center stage. They were the best seats in the house and literally the only seats on the main floor.
There was space for six of us—myself, Carina, Cara, Kamirah, and Cleo. One seat would stay free—Brayden’s. He was backstage, wearing noise-cancelling headphones and sunglasses. Two weeks after his concussion, and he’d been cleared to play again, but Spencer wasn’t prepared to risk the flashing lights and noise being too much for him. He’d wanted Brayden to stay home, but there was no way the stubborn hockey player would miss this.
We’d spent most nights together since his concussion, and it was the first argument I’d seen them have. Spencer insisted he sit the concert out, and Brayden had point-blank refused. They were like two bison butting heads, neither one backing down. I’d gotten sick of the arguments that went nowhere, so I’d forced their hand, telling them to accept my compromise or go home until they sorted their shit out. They’d begrudgingly agreed.
“You have your own server, and your drinks are on Mr. Clay’s account. The server will be around shortly to take your order.” She handed us a menu and grinned. “Enjoy, ladies. It should be one hell of a show.”
I was giddy, and it wasn’t because of the VIP treatment. I couldn’t wait to watch Spencer in his element. He sang at home, humming tunes often and singing and dancing with Hannah any chance he got. His range was incredible—anything from The Wiggles’ “Hot Potato” to Queen’s“Bohemian Rhapsody.” But I was about to watch him singhissongs and playhismusic. I couldn’t freaking wait.
The artist performing on stage waved her goodbye and the lights cut out. We watched as a stagehand brought out a guitar and microphone stand. The members of Spencer’s band filed onto the stage, and the excitement in the crowd cranked up. Myheart was pounding, my insides jumping. I’d been to concerts before, and they were always exhilarating, but this was next level. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to see Spencer perform.
A single spotlight flickered onto the stage, and there was a split-second’s collective inhale before the audience went wild. I screamed and cheered, waiting for a glimpse of Spencer.
“This is so exciting,” Carina shouted.
“Right?” I grinned and danced on my toes, anticipation riding me hard.
The spotlight flickered again, going out altogether before turning back on, blazing upon the spot where the microphone stand was set up. Except this time, Spencer was standing there.
He shouted, “G’day, LA,” into the mic and immediately launched into his latest single.
It was a heavy rock anthem that everyone in the crowd instantly recognized. Guitars screamed, and the drummer’s arms flew over the kit. Strobe lights flashed, and smoke pumped out of the machines near the stage. It was otherworldly, red and orange lights creating a fiery intensity to the song. The images flashing on the giant screen behind Spencer—what looked like crops burning—had the heat cranking up too. But it was all a distraction. My eyes were glued to him. I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
Spencer transformed on stage. Gone was the introvert who preferred dark corners to conversation. There in front of me was a sex god performing for the world to see. Larger than life, he was made for being in that spotlight.
When the song finished, he grinned and gestured to the crowded room. “Thanks for being here, tonight! When I moved to the US from Oz, I never imagined I could be playing to a sold-out crowd like this. It’s really fuckin’ cool.”
The music started, and he grinned again. “You gonna help me sing this one?”
The audience’s whistles and cheers lit me up. The praise being heaped on him warmed me. Spencer deserved every piece of that love. They adored him.
Cleo and Kamirah sang along while I stood there staring at him. I was completely besotted by him. I was watching a superstar emerge.
He jumped straight into his third song, strumming his guitar faster than I’d ever seen anyone’s fingers move. It wasn’t one of his songs—I recognized the music instantly, but I didn’t really know the words. Cara and Carina, on the other hand, screamed, throwing their hands up. He grinned down at them, and as they started singing, he yelled, “This one’s for all the Aussies in the house.”
“Thunder,” he sang over and over again. Cara and Carina stomped their feet and shouted in time. Carina wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and we tossed our heads forward, headbanging to the music. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. It was exhilarating. I was riding a high, and the concert had only just started. I was already having the best time of my life.
Spencer started singing about railroad tracks and there being no way back, and Carina shouted, “Thunder.” I followed her lead, raising my hands in the air and screaming it every time Spencer paused.
Then they started singing, “Thunderstruck.” I may not have known every word in the song, but it didn’t matter. I was having a blast, and getting to watch Spencer perform was a whole other level of hot. He was magnetic. Magnificent.