Free God In The Kitchen by Brooke Williams Page B

listening to them cheer as I squinted.
                “I’m Jared Jones,” I began, grateful that I could at least remember my name. When the noise died down to a murmur, I heard someone cough in the front row. It was too quiet. And it was because I was supposed to be talking.
                I found myself able to pick Chloe and Ian out of the crowd. They were in the second row and Chloe had Ian in her arms. Chloe smiled at me.
                I laughed nervously, wiping my hands on my jeans. I closed my eyes briefly, imagined I was in a room all by myself as normal, and off I went.
                “You know, I’m used to all of you listening to me every morning, but seeing you in person is a little intimidating,” I admitted. “If you could just turn around and look the other direction for a few minutes instead of looking at me, that would really help me out.” I smiled as the laughter rumbled lightly through the room.
                The rest of the information finally poured out of me. I told the audience about the intermission length, where to go for merchandise and a little bit about the band. I even managed to get in a last minute plug for my own show and a promise that I would be giving away the band’s CD first thing on Monday morning.
                Whoever was in charge of lights must have known by instinct when I was done with my introduction because the second I asked the audience to welcome “This” to the stage, the spotlight went out and I was left alone in the pitch black as the crowd went wild.
                The manager had warned me about this. I could hear the band rustling around behind me, taking their positions and grabbing their instruments. How could they see?
                I took one step to the left and felt my toe hit a guitar stand. If I moved too fast, I could knock over valuable instruments. If I moved too slowly, I would be caught on stage when the band started to play.
                Either way, I knew it would make a good story for my show on Monday morning, but at that particular moment, both situations would lead to humiliation.
                In an instance of sheer genius, I removed my cell phone from my pocket and swiftly flipped it on. The light was too dim to be seen from the audience, but it was just enough for me to see the floor.
                I maneuvered around the bass player and past the drum set in the back and made my exit on the close side of the stage.
                I nodded to a few of the stagehands as they acknowledged me. My part of the evening was over. All I had to do now was kick back and watch “This” play with Chloe and Ian.
                As I snaked my way backstage again so I could double back around the building and out to where I could enter the arena and find my own seat, I heard the band start playing. The familiar chords resonated through me and I was excited to see how Ian was reacting to the vibrant sounds.
                It took me a good five minutes to work my way through the curtains and ropes but once I was back in the area and by Chloe’s side, I knew it had been worth the wait.
                She had stuffed Kleenex in Ian’s ears so the music wouldn’t be too loud for him and I saw that she had done the same to her own. I grabbed my own orange earplugs from my pocket and stuck them in my ears. It didn’t matter what type of concert it was, the music was always too loud. At least the people who were manning the merchandise tables could still hear the concert that way.
                I took in the flashing lights on the stage and watched as the lead guitar player took on a solo riff in the middle of the second song, but what I really wanted to watch was Ian. I glanced over in his direction several times until I couldn’t help but stare.
                He was still clinging to his