Musician's Monsoon by Brieanna Robertson

worried about the band. Even if she sucked in the stage presence department, the rest of the members could compensate.
    It made him analyze his nerves a little more, look at the situation a little closer, and as he did, he realized it wasn’t adrenaline from fear he was feeling. It was excitement. He wasn’t afraid that Sophie wasn’t going to do a good job. He was excited because he got to share his world with her, his life. They were going to perform together, perform songs he had composed. It was a sharing of his heart, and it seemed so intimate to him.
    As the lights came up and the opening guitar riff of their first song played, Zane’s heart lurched for one suffocating second before the rest of the band launched into it. The crowd screamed, and Zane glanced over at Sophie. She was situated on the far side of the stage, and he could tell she was playing because he could hear the bass line. Other than that, she may as well have been a statue. He could barely see her fingers moving.
    He smiled to himself, and his heart went out to her for a moment. This had to be the last thing she really wanted to be doing. She was a teacher, not a performer. She was only doing this to help him out of a jam. He felt badly for forcing her into it. At least she was playing correctly, and she was no longer in that freakish outfit. No doubt that wouldn’t have helped her feel comfortable.
    Tearing his gaze away from Sophie and doing his best not to think about that kiss they had shared in the dressing room, Zane turned his attention back to his keyboards and lost himself in his music and in his nightly routine.
     
    * * * *
     
    What am I doing here? Oh, right. Attempting not to crap my pants.
    Sophie tried to block out the sound of the crowd while she concentrated on where her fingers were going.
    Just play the bass… Play the bass. Half a song down. A hundred thousand more to go.
    That’s about how it felt. It was like time had slowed down. Either that or she had somehow managed to cross into another dimension and was living in both of them simultaneously. Because she felt like she was outside of her body watching what was going on.
    And holy cow, did she ever suck.
    The music was all right. She wasn’t having trouble with that. But she felt like a cigar-store Indian, and she knew she had about as much personality as one. Something needed to be done about this. She couldn’t play the entire show this way. Not only would people start to wonder if she was actually capable of movement, but she’d be walking like the Tin Man afterward because all her joints would have locked up.
    After the first song was over, Rhonda greeted the audience with enthusiasm and was met with roaring screams and applause in response. Sophie forced herself to stand up straight, to shift positions a bit. Her back was already angry at her. She glanced over at Zane, who was looking back at her as if to ask her the silent question, Are you going to die? That’s probably what she looked like. Eyes bulging like the deer about to bounce up and over somebody’s Ford Taurus. And yes, the vision really was that detailed that she knew what kind of car it was.
    She glanced at all of the other band members. With the exception of Rhonda, who was still talking to the audience, they were all looking at her with the same expression. Like they feared she was going to bolt and they were all going to have to make a mad dash to block the exit doors.
    She took a small peek at the crowd, and her stomach dropped down to the South Pole. Her heart started to beat way too fast, and her head spun in a dizzying manner that made her feel somewhat nauseous. Get a grip, Sophie. This is not the first time you have ever been on stage.
    No, she argued with herself. But this is the first time you’ve ever played the bass guitar as a stand-in for your favorite band…after making out with the keyboard player, AKA your idol!
    Her stomach plummeted again and she looked around somewhat wildly