just_1_word | 10.1. Vocal
10.1. Vocal
It was just a Karaoke competition. A very large Karaoke competition, but still. Six songs. That was all. A total of about twenty minutes to half an hour on stage. One set between him and Tab. Two songs each - a ballad and an up tempo - then two together as a duet. They had no forewarning of what to sing; they had to choose from the catalogue right before it was their turn to take the stage. Tab was up first for her two, then his turn, then they sung together. Easy, right?
Piece of piss, Lachlan thought to himself as he gripped hold of the gaffer pole and proceeding to throw his guts up into the bushes at the back of the outdoor venue. He could hear Tab singing on the stage, but he couldn’t tell if it was her first or second song. This could potentially be a problem. The crowd started to cheer her on but all the sound did was make Lachlan heave again. He couldn’t go out there. This was more than cold feet; it was sheer terror pounding through him. What if the woman was out there with a gun again? No, no… that was stupid. She was in jail. She would be there for a very long time. But she wasn’t the only one with a gun. Guns could come from nowhere… just like that night exactly one year ago…
He felt tears pool in his eyes and couldn’t fight them back. He stayed bent over the unfortunately placed plant, coughing though another wave of nausea. He was shaking all over and had broken out into a cold sweat. He really thought he was going to be able to do this but the fear was crawling up inside him and grabbing him in the chest to try and drag him down with its icy claws.
“Lachlan!” Keiran bounded up behind the Scot and rested a hand on his back to lean down and see his face. “Shit.” He fished a bottle of water out of his bag and uncapped it, pressing it into Lachlan’s spare hand. “We’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you. They want to know your songs, lad. Do you need me to step in? It’s okay… it’s goin’ to be okay.”
Lachlan folded to his knees with a sob before he could stop himself. He gripped the water bottle and gave into the overwhelming emotion he had been trying to bottle up all week. The sobbing wracked his whole body as shadows of the shock and grief of being shot finally engulfed him.
Aiden skidded around the corner then, his cell phone to his ear as he was trying to reassure Tara that they would find her husband. “Oh shit,” he gasped. “Tara, I’ve found him. I’ll call you back. Don’t worry.” He closed the phone over and put his hand up to his ear as the paging system let out a whine of interference through the earpiece. He could hear all the directions being fed to the people running the show and they were demanding to know where Lachlan was. “Keiran, can you go up and find a red head woman with a clipboard. Her name is Gerri. Tell her Lachlan’s been engulfed by fangirls and we need an interval. There is an ad reel with all the sponsors ready to be played on the big screen. It’ll buy us around seven minutes.”
The Irishman didn’t argue before he was bounding off in the direction of the backstage area. Aiden crouched down beside Lachlan and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Lachlan, listen to me, mate. You don’t have to do this. Tara can bring the car around right now and take you home. Keiran can go on in your place. It’s okay,” he said calmly.
“Where is she?!” Lachlan suddenly hissed through the tears. He grabbed Aiden’s arm. “Where is she? Where’s Tara?!” But he stopped suddenly and shook himself, releasing the grip on Aiden’s arm and murmuring a soft expletive.
Aiden watched Lachlan’s eyes, seeing an inner battle of some sort going on there. “She’s around the other side of the complex with Pat. Give me the word, mate, and I’ll pull the plug,” he urged. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out with a quick glance at the caller ID. “Gerri, he’s totally swamped. Someone recognised him from the night at The Bondi… autographs, the whole bit…” He kept his eyes on Lachlan through the whole phone exchange with the producer of the event. “Yeah, I wish. The guy’s a doctor, he probably kisses puppies in his spare time. He’s too polite and the accent is knocking them dead. How am I supposed to tell him to hurry up and ignore people worshipping him? Just run the reel after Tab’s set, I’ll pull the bad cop routine and piss them off… Oh, darling. I’m a taken man now, but feel free to kiss my arse in thanks.” He closed the phone over and shoved it back into his pocket.
“Smooth,” Lachlan said hoarsely, swallowing thickly. “Cheers. I owe you one.”
Aiden shook his head. “No. I told you, if you couldn’t do this, you wouldn’t have to. But I have about five minutes to get a male member of our team up on that stage. It’s you or Keiran, mate. Just give me the word,” he coaxed, gripping Lachlan’s arm.
Lachlan closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in through his nose. If he didn’t do this, he would never overcome the fear. He just had to get up there and sing through those songs and then he could break. He had made it a year and he was still here to tell the tale. Never mind the cold pain he could still remember tearing through his gut in the weeks following them digging the bullet out of him. Never mind the sickness, or the memories of Tara holding his hand and sobbing at his bedside. Never mind being told he couldn’t have children or that he could spend the rest of his life in pain from the internal damage. Never mind the weeks of rehab or pissing himself in front of doctor when he lost control of his functioning from that tiny little piece of metal. Never mind the blood stained leather jacket or hearing Tara’s screams in his sleep over and over again. Never mind the scarring or facing the shooter in court.
None of it mattered. He was still here. He wasn’t dead. It had tried so fucking hard to ruin him but he clawed his way back and fought for everything he was passionate about. Tara and his music; his very life and love. The music flooded through his veins and Tara was the reason he continued to wake up every single day. He would have given his life for her and nearly did… and he would do it all again in a fucking heartbeat. He let the breath out in a fast rush. Just thirty more minutes. If he did this, he could take on the world. And then he could walk away and break… with Tara.
“I’ll do it,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He put his hand over Aiden’s and squeezed it tightly. “I’ll be there.”
Keiran Fitzpatrick [dublinbass] & Aiden Lewis [mrpublicity] written by their respective muns. All other muses referenced with permission.
Word Count | 1,205
It was just a Karaoke competition. A very large Karaoke competition, but still. Six songs. That was all. A total of about twenty minutes to half an hour on stage. One set between him and Tab. Two songs each - a ballad and an up tempo - then two together as a duet. They had no forewarning of what to sing; they had to choose from the catalogue right before it was their turn to take the stage. Tab was up first for her two, then his turn, then they sung together. Easy, right?
Piece of piss, Lachlan thought to himself as he gripped hold of the gaffer pole and proceeding to throw his guts up into the bushes at the back of the outdoor venue. He could hear Tab singing on the stage, but he couldn’t tell if it was her first or second song. This could potentially be a problem. The crowd started to cheer her on but all the sound did was make Lachlan heave again. He couldn’t go out there. This was more than cold feet; it was sheer terror pounding through him. What if the woman was out there with a gun again? No, no… that was stupid. She was in jail. She would be there for a very long time. But she wasn’t the only one with a gun. Guns could come from nowhere… just like that night exactly one year ago…
He felt tears pool in his eyes and couldn’t fight them back. He stayed bent over the unfortunately placed plant, coughing though another wave of nausea. He was shaking all over and had broken out into a cold sweat. He really thought he was going to be able to do this but the fear was crawling up inside him and grabbing him in the chest to try and drag him down with its icy claws.
“Lachlan!” Keiran bounded up behind the Scot and rested a hand on his back to lean down and see his face. “Shit.” He fished a bottle of water out of his bag and uncapped it, pressing it into Lachlan’s spare hand. “We’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you. They want to know your songs, lad. Do you need me to step in? It’s okay… it’s goin’ to be okay.”
Lachlan folded to his knees with a sob before he could stop himself. He gripped the water bottle and gave into the overwhelming emotion he had been trying to bottle up all week. The sobbing wracked his whole body as shadows of the shock and grief of being shot finally engulfed him.
Aiden skidded around the corner then, his cell phone to his ear as he was trying to reassure Tara that they would find her husband. “Oh shit,” he gasped. “Tara, I’ve found him. I’ll call you back. Don’t worry.” He closed the phone over and put his hand up to his ear as the paging system let out a whine of interference through the earpiece. He could hear all the directions being fed to the people running the show and they were demanding to know where Lachlan was. “Keiran, can you go up and find a red head woman with a clipboard. Her name is Gerri. Tell her Lachlan’s been engulfed by fangirls and we need an interval. There is an ad reel with all the sponsors ready to be played on the big screen. It’ll buy us around seven minutes.”
The Irishman didn’t argue before he was bounding off in the direction of the backstage area. Aiden crouched down beside Lachlan and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Lachlan, listen to me, mate. You don’t have to do this. Tara can bring the car around right now and take you home. Keiran can go on in your place. It’s okay,” he said calmly.
“Where is she?!” Lachlan suddenly hissed through the tears. He grabbed Aiden’s arm. “Where is she? Where’s Tara?!” But he stopped suddenly and shook himself, releasing the grip on Aiden’s arm and murmuring a soft expletive.
Aiden watched Lachlan’s eyes, seeing an inner battle of some sort going on there. “She’s around the other side of the complex with Pat. Give me the word, mate, and I’ll pull the plug,” he urged. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out with a quick glance at the caller ID. “Gerri, he’s totally swamped. Someone recognised him from the night at The Bondi… autographs, the whole bit…” He kept his eyes on Lachlan through the whole phone exchange with the producer of the event. “Yeah, I wish. The guy’s a doctor, he probably kisses puppies in his spare time. He’s too polite and the accent is knocking them dead. How am I supposed to tell him to hurry up and ignore people worshipping him? Just run the reel after Tab’s set, I’ll pull the bad cop routine and piss them off… Oh, darling. I’m a taken man now, but feel free to kiss my arse in thanks.” He closed the phone over and shoved it back into his pocket.
“Smooth,” Lachlan said hoarsely, swallowing thickly. “Cheers. I owe you one.”
Aiden shook his head. “No. I told you, if you couldn’t do this, you wouldn’t have to. But I have about five minutes to get a male member of our team up on that stage. It’s you or Keiran, mate. Just give me the word,” he coaxed, gripping Lachlan’s arm.
Lachlan closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in through his nose. If he didn’t do this, he would never overcome the fear. He just had to get up there and sing through those songs and then he could break. He had made it a year and he was still here to tell the tale. Never mind the cold pain he could still remember tearing through his gut in the weeks following them digging the bullet out of him. Never mind the sickness, or the memories of Tara holding his hand and sobbing at his bedside. Never mind being told he couldn’t have children or that he could spend the rest of his life in pain from the internal damage. Never mind the weeks of rehab or pissing himself in front of doctor when he lost control of his functioning from that tiny little piece of metal. Never mind the blood stained leather jacket or hearing Tara’s screams in his sleep over and over again. Never mind the scarring or facing the shooter in court.
None of it mattered. He was still here. He wasn’t dead. It had tried so fucking hard to ruin him but he clawed his way back and fought for everything he was passionate about. Tara and his music; his very life and love. The music flooded through his veins and Tara was the reason he continued to wake up every single day. He would have given his life for her and nearly did… and he would do it all again in a fucking heartbeat. He let the breath out in a fast rush. Just thirty more minutes. If he did this, he could take on the world. And then he could walk away and break… with Tara.
“I’ll do it,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He put his hand over Aiden’s and squeezed it tightly. “I’ll be there.”
Keiran Fitzpatrick [dublinbass] & Aiden Lewis [mrpublicity] written by their respective muns. All other muses referenced with permission.
Word Count | 1,205