She blinked at me. “As long as you’ve been dating Dale.”
“Well yeah… but I’m not marrying him.”
“Yet.” She grinned.
“Come on, I think he’s next.” I grabbed her hand as we hurried back out into the club, where it was so dark, smoky and loud no one could hear themselves think—which was probably the point.
“I thought you’d drowned.” Matt winked at me as we slid back into our seats at the table. The lead singer of the band on stage was a Flock of Seagulls wannabe and his mohawk was just a flash of white over the crowd.
“He’s up next!” Wendy had to practically yell to be heard. Carrie was on the other side of her.
“Is he any good?” Matt draped his arm casually across Aimee’s shoulders. I’d forgotten he hadn’t seen Black Diamond performing in the mall the day we’d met up with them, before the movies, and he’d missed the first auditions, the qualifying round for today—the semi-finals.
“He’s amazing.” Aimee pointed toward the stage where Black Diamond was setting up their equipment.
“He’s going to win,” I said, but I don’t think anyone heard me.
Dale was up there, looking like a god in his jeans and t-shirt and combat boots, head bent as he tuned his guitar and plugged it into his new amp. The band was setting up too, his bass player, Terry, leaning over to say something to him. Terry didn’t like me. None of them did. They thought I was too much of a distraction, and they were probably right.
I felt a little sorry for the other guys in the band. They could play—the music sounded good, mostly because Dale was a harsh taskmaster, forcing them to practice every single day—but no one ever noticed them. It was terrible, but I couldn’t even remember the drummer’s name. He was a big bear of a guy, full beard, wore a headband and only a tank-top when they played, and I just thought of him as “Bear.” Their lead guitarist, Rick, was a Dale wannabe, but nowhere near as enigmatic. I think he was the only one who really resented the way Dale stood out and the rest of them faded into the background simply because he was on stage.
I think the rest of them knew they were superfluous, but kind of like Ringo had once said about the Beatles, they were just happy to be there, part of something greater than themselves.
And they were great. Not only were they great, they were ready. I’d heard them play just two nights ago in the academy auditorium, where they held our all-school assemblies, and had been blown away by how good they sounded.
But I was still nervous.
There were cameras here from MTV, although this part of the Battle of the Bands wouldn’t be televised. They were just gathering footage in case any of these bands happened to make it to the finals.
“Sara, don’t bite your nails,” Aimee said, looking up.
“Yes, Mommy,” I snapped, pulling my hand away from my mouth, inspecting the damage I’d done. If I bit them any more, they were going to bleed.
“It’s starting!” Wendy pointed.
“Here’s another group—they hail from Iselin, New Jersey.” The emcee’s voice was loud over the speakers. “They call themselves Black Diamond!”
The noise level swelled and it reminded me of a smaller version of the Tyler Vincent concert. The lights went dark, all of them, and then began pulsing with the beat of the song. And there was Dale, standing in front of the microphone, head slightly belt, listening for his cue. His leg moved slightly to the beat, one hand on the mic, the other on his guitar.
When he lifted his head and began to sing, looking out into the audience, the spotlight focused on him and him alone, it was immediately clear this man was a star. Every girl in the place jumped to her feet, unable to contain the feelings he elicited. There was something about him that forced a woman to respond. I felt it too, my body rising without thought, screaming along with the rest of the crowd.
His voice was hypnotic and it drew everyone. The song was a Bon Jovi cover—another New Jersey band who’d made it to the big time. I knew Dale was on his way. Wendy reached over, grabbing my hand, squealing, “Come on!” Carrie was on the other side of her and had her hand, pulling her toward the stage. Aimee made up the last of our all girl train as we threaded our way through the crowd.
There was just no staying still when Dale was on stage. A crowd had already gathered at the front, pushing in, so there was no room for us. We got as close as we could, like everyone else, swept away by the music and the magic of his voice, the way he moved the energy through the room. He shared it, rather than hoarding it, like I’d seen so many bands tonight do. Too many of them had been like some self-contained unit, in a little bubble, performing not for the crowd but for themselves.
Dale knew how to perform, not just for a crowd, but with them. You felt engaged by him, like it was personal. You felt as if he was singing just to you and he meant every single word. I don’t know how he did it. I don’t think it was a trick, or a gimmick. I think it was just Dale. It was just who he was, and he came across on stage like he was the center of the universe, the source of all gravity, pulling us in, pulling us toward him.
I was enthralled. They all were. I glanced at the MTV cameraman and he was working hard to keep up. They had another camera on the other side of the stage that had been off previously, but it was manned now, filming Black Diamond. As the song came to a close, the crowd cheered more loudly than I’d heard yet. It was as if they had been waiting for this moment all night. Maybe longer than that. And this was just their first song. They had one more to go.
My eyes were glued on Dale, his dark beauty coming so electrically alive I couldn’t look away. The applause was deafening. I was so proud I could barely speak. Dale was sweating and smiling. His happiness was infectious. Their second song was a slow one, something he had written himself. They had to do at least one cover song, but they were allowed to do one original if they wanted to. Most of them had just done two cover songs.
“This one is for my girl, Sara,” Dale said into the microphone. “She’s out there tonight and she’ll know what I mean.”
Aimee looked at me. I saw Matt had joined her, standing behind with his arms wrapped around her waist. She gave me a thumbs up and I smiled back. Every girl in that place wanted to be “Sara” in that moment. But I was Sara. I was his Sara. On stage, he belonged to everyone. But when he stepped off it, he was mine.
My heart was full to bursting.
When the music started, it wasn’t the song they’d practiced, the one I’d heard him do in the academy auditorium. It was a song I’d never heard before. Aimee grinned at me, applauding with everyone else. He changed the mood swiftly and easily with the quality of his voice:
“My heart is strong, its beat goes on