Sed nodded. “From the top.”
His eyes sparkled brightly in the stage lights, but he quickly squeezed them shut.
“What’s going on?” Toni asked Logan, who shook his head and shrugged.
The song started over again. Lead guitar followed by rhythm, bass, and drums. Sed’s battle cry. This time Sed didn’t even make it through the first line before he lowered his mic and turned his back to the crowd. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and took several deep breaths. His three guitarists quickly surrounded him, talking to him out of range of the mic, patting him comfortingly on the back or arm. Nodding and gesturing, they seemed to come to some consensus, and Sed turned back to the agitated crowd.
“I’m sorry,” he said to his audience. “I thought I could do this tonight. I thought performing would make it easier, take my mind off things.” He swallowed hard and pressed his lips together, obviously fighting tears. After a moment, he continued, “I received a call from my sister just before the show. This afternoon, my father passed away unexpectedly.”
The bottom fell out of Toni’s chest, and her heart sank with it. She pressed her fingertips against her lips to stop their trembling. She knew exactly what he was going through and wondered if he’d appreciate any words of comfort from her—not that words were any comfort when a beloved parent passed away—but she wanted to reach out to him in some way.
“So I need a minute to pull my shit together so I can sing.” He laughed hollowly and swiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Knew I should have taken up drums.”
“Nope,” Logan said as he rushed onstage. He covered Sed’s mic with one hand and leaned in close to speak to Sed.
Toni strained her ears for threads of their conversation, but the murmur of the crowd prevented her from hearing anything. There were vehement head shakes on Sed’s part followed by him tilting his head to listen to whatever Logan was saying. After a moment, Sed smiled at Logan, nodded, and gave him a hearty pat on the back.
Sed lifted his microphone and said to the crowd, “I’m going to leave you in good hands here.”
He handed the mic to Logan and jogged offstage. His fiancée, Jessica, who had been waiting at the edge of the stage, wrapped him in her arms. He leaned into her for support, seeming to breathe in her strength, and then took her hand and left via the steps.
Confused, as was everyone else, apparently, Toni turned her attention back to the stage.
“We’re all family here,” Logan said. “The bands, the crew, all you sick motherfuckers in the audience.” This prompted loud cheering from crowd. “We’re family. So when one of our own is struggling, we stand up to help. Everyone in this arena knows Sedric Lionheart needs to be with his other family—his blood—tonight. Everyone knows that except Sed. He said he doesn’t want to disappoint the fans. Said he wasn’t leaving until after Sinners performed tonight. He figures you’ll be upset with him if you don’t get to see his band play. So I promised him you’d be able to see them even if he left.”
Audience members, band members, and crew exchanged confused looks. Toni looked over her shoulder to see if Sed had returned. There was no sign of the hunky vocalist anywhere backstage.
“I apologize in advance for any damage to your hearing,” Logan said, “but this is the only way I could convince the stubborn bastard to go take care of himself and his family.”
“What are you talking about?” Trey asked through his microphone.
Logan grinned and lifted a hand toward the rafters. “Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we’re doing Sinners karaoke, and I’m up first. Hopefully we can convince some of the real vocalists hiding out backstage to sing a few Sinners songs too.”
Toni was astonished by how quickly the crowd got behind Logan’s idea. She supposed they really were there to have some fun—she knew for a fact that Logan was fun from head to toe—and this karaoke idea was a lot better of a solution than not getting to see Sinners at all. Of course the fans couldn’t be upset about Sed leaving—the man had just lost his father. Toni knew that pain, and she was certain everyone in the audience had lost someone important to them at some point in their lives.
“Prepare your ears,” Logan said, sticking his finger in one of his to demonstrate. She’d heard the man sing and couldn’t help but think he was doing them a favor by warning them.
“You are crazy,” Trey said, shaking a finger at Logan but also grinning from ear to ear.
Logan spread his arms wide as if to say tell me something I don’t already know.
For the third time, Sinners began the intro to “Gates of Hell,” but this time Logan let loose the battle cry, one that made chills race down Toni’s spine. When he started to sing, she couldn’t believe her ears. Was he lip-syncing? He sounded amazing and though he didn’t have quite the same grit to his voice that Sed Lionheart did, he sounded enough like him that no one seemed to care they were listening to the bassist of Exodus End belt out a Sinners song. It was during the guitar solo, when Logan began to overexaggerate his lead-singer theatrics, that Toni realized she didn’t have her camera with her. This was perfect material for the biography.
Slapping herself on the forehead, she groaned aloud and made a mad dash back to the dressing room. Would she ever learn? Now she was going to miss some of Logan’s amazing karaoke performance because she kept forgetting that the members of Exodus End were always interesting. And that their bassist, in particular, was pretty fucking spectacular.
She’d just stepped into the room when a pair of hands shoved her in the chest and sent her stumbling backwards into a wall.
“How could you?” Reagan screamed at her. “I trusted you. I stood up for you. How could you do this to me?”
Toni gaped at her, completely taken aback by Reagan’s fury. “What?”
Toni searched the room, looking for a bit of backup or at least a clue as to what was going on, and discovered Reagan’s wasn’t the only furious face glaring at her. Everyone in the room looked pissed off and their ire was directed at Toni.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she said, gaze darting from scowling Max to jaw-set Steve to arms-crossed Dare. Butch actually cracked his knuckles—was he preparing to strangle her?
What the hell was happening?
“You sold our secrets to the tabloids,” Reagan said, shoving a copy of the American Inquirer under her nose.