Rock Star, Interrupted (Tragic Duet #1) by S.M. Shade
I found my stillness, my space between breaths, when I was a kid. The answer is simple. If it hurts, I pour music on it.
After years of hard work, it’s finally happening. Tragic has a number one album and we’ve gone from being discussed as one hit wonders to hearing words like meteoric mentioned alongside our name.
With two tours planned and another album on its way, we have a lot to look forward to. Playing in a different city every night, the shimmer and roar of the crowd, after parties and endless women.
My lifelong dream is in the palm of my hand until one phone call leaves everything hanging in the balance.
Excerpt Rock Star, Interrupted (Tragic Duet #1) by S.M. Shade
Axton steps up to the mic with a smile that no doubt wets women’s panties. “We have some songs for you.” He pauses to let the responding roar of the crowd die down. As it does, a woman wolf whistles, and he turns his head to wink at her, making the audience lose it. Thunder booms again, and he smiles. “You aren’t going to let some rain run you off, are you?” While the cheers and screams drown out everything again, he steps back, motions to Elliot and they begin to play.
I’ve streamed his music. I’ve heard him practice and sing at home. His talent was never in doubt, but this…I can’t even describe the experience. Everything else falls away. It’s fully dark outside and he’s backlit by deep blue lights as his voice raises goosebumps on my skin. The song builds and he moves around the stage like he’s part of it, like every inch belongs to him. His face contorts with such passion as he belts out the powerful chorus, then relaxes when the verse resumes in his low, soulful croon.
Eyes closed. Wet hair hanging in his face. So much emotion.
The crowd is as silent as I’ve heard them all day, hanging on every sound he makes. The drums kick in and the lights flash in tandem. His face is illuminated in a spotlight as he sings the last verse with more intensity, jumping and moving with the music as if he’s possessed by it.
He’s like a different being up there. There’s some sort of…magic. A force that seems to wrap around him, to cloak the entire crowd and pull everyone into that space with him. Into a world where he’s all that exists.
My throat tightens as I listen, my gaze glued to the man I’ve only recently managed not to despise. But who could fight against this? His voice is ecstasy charged by summer thunder, sweet agony wrapped in desire. It holds the promise of feverish love and whispered, filthy things.
The way the crowd reacts to him, reaches for him, the sobbing and screams, I understand it now. He’s chaos and calm, heady and all consuming.
And they fucking love it.