My men deserve to remember the man who raised and loved them.
Pictures flicker on next—selfies, backstage images—all with Mark smiling and laughing. There are ones with the crew. Ones with me. Him wearing costumes. More videos of the guys and him, even a video we got from the crew I didn’t know about of Mark and me.
He’s hugging me, spinning me in a circle as I laugh. My hair flows behind me, my clipboard forgotten. He moves me around the stage while we were setting up, just enjoying the little moments, and at the end, it shows us hugging, and my heart cracks, even as joy fills me.
It hurts, even as it’s happy.
More and more flicker on, showing a man’s lifetime of achievements and happiness. Each and every one is filled with laughter and love, and when it’s over, his name comes up with the dates and his picture. I turn back to the crowd, and I see some of them crying.
“We will never forget Mark or how he made this possible. But for him, we will go on, and to the person who took him from us, who snuffed out his life, just know you will be found, and you will pay for what you did.”
Titling back my head, I smile at the crowd to lighten the mood. “We are The Wild Boys. Thank you and goodnight!” I yell.
After that first show, things have been easier.
We had yesterday off, so we didn’t have to rush to the next venue, simply enjoying each other’s company. The boys, the crew, and I all went to a local club and celebrated Mark’s life, and unlike the funeral, it was a party he would have been proud of. Although, there’s still a sadness in people’s eyes and a quietness about us that was never there before. Though after the night out, the atmosphere backstage as we set up is lighter. We will never be the same, but we won’t let this break us.
Our first show went so well that it bolstered us, gave us energy, and made us want to do well, putting a spring back in our step. The show tonight is in a smaller venue, but we’ve performed here before, and if this evening’s show is anything like the previous one, then it’s going to be loud, fun, and messy—exactly what the guys need right now. The audience can make or break these shows. We could be in the biggest stadium in the world, but if the audience didn’t get involved, then it wouldn’t matter. But tonight, the energy from the ladies and the few gents who are waiting for the show is palpable, and they haven’t even entered the building yet.
There’s an excitement on the faces I pass that I haven’t seen since the day I got that awful phone call, and I’ve got a buzz in my chest I haven’t allowed myself to feel since then either. Clutching my clipboard to my body, I look around backstage and observe everything for a few seconds, absorbing it all. It’s a lot to take in, and it would be so easy to get overwhelmed. In fact, I can feel the tight grip of panic starting to grasp me, but I push it away and take a deep breath.
No, you have everything under control.
I turn my head and see the open door to the dressing room, catching glimpses of the boys joking around as they change, and their laughter brings a smile to my lips.
The boys are getting changed. Check.
Peeking to the right, I see Kathy talking to a couple of the sound crew, their headsets on at the soundboard, nodding as they run through a quick sound check.
Music blares through the speakers. Check.
Spotlights flash onto the stage and move along with the music, and as I glance up, I see the lighting techs in the rafters rehearsing their cues. Check.
Looking down at my clipboard, I see all of my other jobs I’ve already ticked off my list—VIP tickets, check, costumes, check, tour bus ready, check.
You’ve got this, Gabby.
Tucking my clipboard under my arm, I strut across the backstage area, my high heels clicking against the black floor as I step into the wings and out onto the stage. Unlike some of our venues, this is a traditional theatre, but they build a catwalk onto the front for us so the guys are able to walk out into the crowd. The thick, red velvet curtains are pulled back as I stride out, and I stare at the rows upon rows of empty matching red seats. Suddenly, the spotlight shines down on me, and I squint my eyes and shield them from the brightness of the light. They must be practising still, I just hadn’t expected to be their test subject. Laughing, I turn to leave, but a tingle races down my spine, stopping me.
Is someone watching me in the seating area? I look closer, only for my blood to run cold as I spot a figure leaning against the back wall.
“Hello?” I call, my voice breaking. “We’re not open to the public yet.” I’m fairly sure this person isn’t a fan. After all, why would an admirer of the guys be standing around watching me? Wishful thinking perhaps, but it’s a better possibility than who else it could be.
The figure pushes away from the wall and starts walking towards me, but because of the light shining on me, I can’t see who it is, just a black outline. Instinctively I step back, fear making my heart pound in my chest.
“Gabby, are you okay?” comes a worried voice from behind me.
Letting out a small shriek, I spin on my heel to see Kathy, pressing my hand to my chest in shock. Eyes wide, I look back out into the sea of empty seats, only to see they are exactly that—empty. Frowning, I look around, certain the stalker is about to jump out at me any second now.
“Gabby?” Kathy sounds concerned, like she thinks I’m going mad. Maybe I am.
“Sorry.” I smile, but she sees right through it, although my shaky hands probably give me away. “I could have sworn I saw someone…”
Frowning, she turns and raises a hand to shield her eyes as she looks out into the rows of seats before walking to the front of the stage. I follow her hesitantly, but I know what I’ll see before I even get there—nothing. There’s no one there. When she turns to face me, I hate the look of sympathy in her eyes, but I know what she’s thinking. There’s no way anyone could have escaped without passing her, other than going out the back door, and the security guards would have caught anyone leaving that way.
Ever since the attack, we’ve upped our security, something we demanded the board provided. The boys wanted security guards on me at all times, but I refused. I didn’t think I would need it since I’m never alone, there are pretty much always several sets of eyes nearby, but this has shaken me up. Perhaps I should always be with someone else. I haven’t received any more texts since Mark died, so I guess I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he wouldn’t dare attack me now with the police so much more involved.
That thought makes me snort. So much for that. Some interviews, checking my phone, and looking at the messages the stalker sent me has been the extent of their investigation. If the police had done something sooner, they might have already caught the stalker and stopped him from killing Mark.
“Gabby?”
Tuning back in, I pull an apologetic face at the woman smiling gently at me. “Sorry, Kathy, what did you say?”
“I said I’ll go and have a word with the security guys and see if they’ve seen anything suspicious and make sure they stay alert.” Squeezing my arm gently, she climbs down from the stage and makes her way to the doors. As she slips through, I hear the sound of excited voices, and it brings a smile to my face.
Ignoring the feeling that I’m being watched, I spin on my heel and make my way backstage, breathing a sigh of relief as I’m surrounded by the hubbub of the crew and familiar faces once again.