Me, You, and Mason

37 (finale)

Darcy's nerves were so high that she felt as if she was the one gearing up for a show.

With a fresh set of nails— all solid yellow with the ring finger dipped in chrome— and a perm rod set that thankfully turned out well, she sorted through clothing options for hours. With the help of Aria, who was— for once— more decisive than Darcy was, she landed on a borrowed yellow blouse and painted on jeans.

Bees swarmed in her stomach at the thought of Sage on stage. It would be his first solo gig since she knew him.

She wondered what he would look like. What name would he be using— after all, he was in search of a new one, when they first met. Was he still the lover boy she'd been introduced to?

How different would his music be now? Had their summer affair changed him in the same way it did her? Would the answer lay in his music?

She prayed everything would go right— that everything would go even better than Sage could've imagined it.

Sage prayed for the same thing.

He was in the green room of Bloodstone, crammed in with a plethora of other artists. While everyone else partook in tobacco wrapped cannabis and pre-show shots, Sage was two seconds away from leaving the room.

He needed silence, calm. A moment to speak to himself, to God, to Chico, to anybody that wouldn't be heard in the midst of vocal warm ups and laughter.

Everybody had their thing: weed, tequila, jumping jacks, pushups. Anything that would help shake the mounting anticipation. Anything that would calm the fear of getting out there and fumbling a chance to show their best selves.

Melvin broke through the dull chaos, a hand finding Sage's shoulder. "You ready?"

Sage put on a smile as though his stomach wasn't about to flip inside out. "Yeah."

"Nawww. I said 'are you ready?'" Melvin grinned, both hands now on Sage's shoulders as he shook him.

"Yeah!" Sage laughed.

"Aye, mane. We gon' go out there and have some fun! Don't worry about nothin' else. We worked hard for this. We're prepared, we're ready. We know this shit like it ain't nobody's business, bruh. Won't be no thinkin' on that stage... Only flyin'."

"Flyin'," Sage nodded, thinking the scenario through.

They wouldn't have much time on stage; three songs would leave little room for him to be in his own head. He needed to be as present as possible. He was already as ready as he was gonna be. It was time to execute, to get up there and get free.

Such freedom made him think about Darcy-Ann. Was she here already? Was she alright? Where would she be in the crowd? Would he be able to see her?

"Aye! A'ight, settle down! Everybody, listen up!" the power of an O.G. lulled the room to a gradual silence. It was Slim, standing in the doorway with a clipboard in hand and Melody at his hip.

"We got a good crowd tonight, a lot of folks excited to see y'all. I'd like to thank all y'all for makin' it tonight. You know Bloodstone been rockin' for almost thirty-five years now, and it's been a long ass time since we did anything like this, so I need y'all to give it up for baby girl— Mel— for puttin' all this together."

The applause was so loud and so close together that it sounded muffled in such a small room. Melody took her bow as the clapping slowed to a halt.

Slim continued with house rules, "It ain't too often we as a community can come together, especially like this— so with that bein' said, won't be nunna'dat ig'nant ass shit tonight. You wanna fight? Take that shit outside and 'round the damn corner. You fight, you're banned.