Synister: The Push Series - Book 1 Read Free Page A

darkness. I started banging and smacking my drumsticks off any surface I could find. At one point, it became the back of Hendrix’s head, to which he called me a “motherfucker,”smiled, and turned back in the direction of the stage.
    When I heard the promoter say our name, the crowd went supersonic loud. Push suddenly became eight hundred syllables long. Everyone was vivid and earth-shattering loud.
    We had made it.
    No one, not even my past could take this away from us. As the word Push ricocheted within the arena, it was like being shot out of a cannon, and I loved every minute of it. Scottie was so amped he was jumping up and down, and when he looked at me, the world stopped. Everything went silent. I watched the other band members head through the curtains, and then it was just Scottie and I. Alone. I was so close to losing it I could feel the lump in my throat tightening. I couldn't breathe. I watched Scottie walk toward me, and instinctively, I pulled my arms to my chest to protect myself. I knew he was not going to hurt me, but when you had the demons in your head that I did, you were always on guard.
    Laying his hands on my shoulders, he leaned and placed his forehead on mine. When he closed his eyes, I watched a single tear leave the corner of his eye, and for a minute, I was jealous. Jealous of his ability to feel, to give in to the moment and live. I felt nothing. I was amped because we had made it, but I wasn't about to profess my love. That was too real. That was not me.
    “We did it, dude. You fucking did it.” I knew he was screaming because the noise was off the charts, but it sounded like a whisper.
    I just shook my head. As much as I knew he was looking at me to validate his feelings to show him that I felt the same, I just couldn’t. It seemed so simple—the words I needed to say. I just didn’t know what they were. Plus, I didn’t want to let him down by saying the wrong thing.
    “Synister, I owe you my life. All of this, brother...all of this is for you.” With a slap to the shoulder, he turned toward the stage and was gone. When I heard his voice over the mic, it was time to get on with it. As I moved toward the stage, my feet felt like they were tied with bricks. Something was holding me back. Fuck this. I took a deep breath, punched my hand to my chest, and let out a scream to wake the dead. I was Synister Fucking Smith. Time to show the world what I was made of.
     

 
    Synister - We Had Fucking Made It, So Why Do I Feel Like Shit?
     
    Everything about the show had gone off without a hitch, and when the final lights went down and everyone started exiting the arena, I stood off stage and took in the aftereffects of the show. There were water bottles and various bras strewn across the stage. Scottie’s mic stand was now lying on the stage, and there were guitar picks and the remnants of mid-show shot glasses perched on Oscar’s keyboard. Still holding my drumsticks, I was on a high that no drug I had ever gotten my hands on had provided me. While I watched the last of the attendees filter through the doors, the post-show clean up had begun.
    With my arms folded, I felt a tap on my right shoulder and almost jumped out of my skin. Hearing laughter behind me, I planned to give Brooklyn what she deserved for scaring the shit out of me. With my back still toward her, and my face fixated on what little remained of the Push show, I was relaxed and sated.
    “You know, Brooklyn, I’m going to spank your ass for sneaking up on me. If you run from me, it will only be worse.” Turning around, I saw Brooklyn’s face plastered with a wicked grin, and standing beside her was Royce. Fucking perfect. I just threatened to spank his wife’s ass. Genius, Syn. “Oh, hey, Rice. I didn’t know you were at the show tonight.”
    He reached out his perfect I-have-never-seen-a-hard-day’s-work-in-my-life hand to me, and I could see that he was still playing the spanking comment over and over in his head.