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Killian’s back and forth reminds me of being on a pirate ship. It rocks constantly, but you know that you better hang on for your life because he’d have no problem throwing you overboard.
I’ve missed this. The anticipation to a show, not knowing what could or couldn’t happen. I haven’t spoken to Killian since the morning he stormed in and out of my bus. I’m worried about how my act is going to go tomorrow night because of it.
My phone vibrates in my hands as I’m making my way over to the tent to train. Clicking it unlocked, I open a message from Hope.
Hope: I’m sorry for worrying you, Saskia. I am ok now.
Pausing my footing to shuffle my bags into my other hand, I send off another message to her. R u home now?
She replies almost instantly. I am. Where are you? Still in Kiznitch?
I quickly reply, No, in San Antonio.
She doesn’t respond, so I carry on back to the tent, pushing my thoughts about Hope to the back of my brain. I want to ask her why she was coming to Kiznitch to begin with, but I keep forgetting every time we talk. I’ll ask her tonight.
Dropping my bags at the front of the stage, Rose, Val, and a few others are flipping around the aerials when I enter, music pouring out of the seams of the tent. I start warming up, popping my AirPods into my ears to remain focused. “Devil” by Nikyee Heaton plays as I move around the stage until my body is hot and sweaty. Someone taps on my shoulder after my third round and I quickly tear out the pods, turning to face Perse.
“You can have the speakers now!”
“Thanks.” I smile at her.
“You’ve got the floor now until six, then The Brothers are coming in.”
I nod, tearing off my shirt until I’m standing in nothing but my sports bra and Nike spandex shorts. “That’s cool. It’s all the time I need.”
Perse hands me the remote, so I can control the music, and I sync it to my phone. I flick through the songs again. The thing that I love about having my own act is that I’m allowed to choose when I change my songs or how I change them. I have complete control over my fire scenes—both of them. The rope and dragon staff. I try to keep with two different genres of music to keep it fresh but realistically, I don’t need to. It’s not like the same people are watching our show more than once in each city. Pushing play on Halsey’s “You Should Be Sad,” I light up both ends of my dragon staff and start warming up. Rolling it against my back until it falls into the palm of my hand. The music pounds through the speakers loudly. I flip the staff up as the hook exits and the chorus kicks back in. The song is powerful without being loud. The lyrics float on top of the tune, creating a perfect balance of synchronized harmony. It’s too much. Too close. Too much.
I snatch up the remote and change the song. After practicing for the final two hours that I have, I pack up my things and head backstage to put everything near my compartment and mirror. I know the songs that I’m using for my solo acts tomorrow, and I’m almost certain that we’re doing the same routine for the group and Kenan and I tomorrow since Perse hasn’t said anything, and also, the bikes have started up, so I just want to get the fuck out of here.
The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills up the tent almost instantly, as if the vast space of it means nothing. As if the sheer opulence that constructs all of Midnight Mayhem’s tents means nothing as soon as these boys ride their Harleys up in the arena.
Making a beeline for the exit out the back, I quickly scrub up in the shower and get changed. I know that there’s a cookout happening tonight like there is every night, before and during shows, and aside from the fact that I don’t particularly enjoy too many social settings, I do want to make more of an effort with the people I genuinely care about here, like Perse, Val, and Kenan.
I run the brush through my hair, allowing natural waves to fall down my back all the way to my tailbone. Swiping my lips with red lipstick, I quickly dress in jean short cut-offs and a Harley Davidson crop top that’s torn in all the right places. Slipping my feet into a pair of red Chucks, I push my phone into my back pocket and make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The door opens behind me and I stop short, just as the bottle of tequila grazes my fingers.
“Oh shit, you drinking tonight, Boo?” Kenan chuckles, walking in with a joint hanging out of his mouth.
“Actually, no.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m bringing it for Perse because she is.”
Kenan hands me the lit joint. “I don’t know how that girl never has a hangover.”
I take it from him and put it between my lips. “She’s crazy, that’s why.” I take a few puffs before giving it back to him. “You coming tonight?”
He nods. “Yeah, I’ll be down after a shower.” He pauses, and then grins. “Seen Kaizer?”
The pot instantly relaxes me. Shaking my head. “Nope. Not since this morning.”
He chuckles. “Wait for me and we’ll go down together. Here.” He throws another joint at me. “Take a seat and chill.” I take it, pulling out my pack of smokes from my back pocket and placing them both on the table. Flicking my Zippo around my fingers, I watch closely as the light hits the edges of the silver casing. The embedded patterns engraved in the steel. The shower turns on. I continue flicking it.
Biting a cigarette into my mouth, I blaze the end and open my phone. I don’t need extra drama or drama in general in my life; in fact, I hate drama and do my best to stay away from it, but since being in Midnight Mayhem, it’s proving difficult to not get caught up in it.
Five minutes later, Kenan is shuffling down the stairs doing up his belt with freshly showered hair. He runs his hands through the ends. “Blaze that joint and let’s go.” He takes the tequila as I light the end and we make our way out of the bus and toward Val’s RV where the parties usually are. The fire pit is in the middle and a small makeshift bar to the side. It’s almost identical to how it always looks, no matter what town we’re in. I wonder to myself if they do this as a false sense of stability.
“You’re here!” Val comes crashing into me, her arm swinging over my shoulder. It’s crowded, way too crowded for my comfort. Good thing I’m high off my face.
I drop into the chair opposite her and sip on a cup of juice that Kenan brought over to me. He grins, pressing a kiss against my cheek. “Just drink juice so they think you’re having alcohol.”
I smirk up at him, tipping my head back and taking a long sip.
I’m stoned as shit. In fact, when I try to look Val in the eye, everything is moving around her in slow motion. The flames from the fire lick through the dark night, morphing into faces and objects.
I shake my head just as Perse reaches for my hand and tugs me to my feet. I drop my cup, the bright orange liquid spilling out against the fresh green grass. Perse and I start dancing with Val coming in the middle. A couple of the Angels slip in with us too, with the Demons standing. We’re all wasted or drunk or high, and all around it’s a good vibe.
I look up slowly to see all four Brothers sitting in their chairs right near the fire.
Killian is wearing a leather jacket with no shirt underneath and dark, ripped jeans. His combat boots are loose around his feet, his legs spread wide.