OFF THE RECORD (First Person)

14. Opening

Emma

September 2014

The energy on the venue was static. I had seen Tomas perform before, but this was definitely on another level. He had given me, James and Isaiah first row VIP passes to the concert where he would open for the Killers.

We had met Tomas' band briefly before he went onstage, taking a couple of pictures with them. He had assured us we would be able to hang out with them longer after the show and even meet the headliners.

I dressed to impress, wearing tall black stilettos and a matching tube short dress while James only wore a white shirt and black pants.

Isaiah dressed mid-punk, wearing black skinny jeans and a t-shirt with the logo of Texts from Texas's album. His hair was up in little spikes, and he had black eyeliner on his bottom waterline, which I had helped mark and smear evenly.

The dancing lights and the heavy drums announced the show starting, while Tomas walked up at the front center, with his guitar hanging from his shoulder strap.

I yelled with the rest of the crowd, while James clapped.

"How are we doing H-Town?" Started Tomas with his introduction. "My name is Tom Leon. Our band is Texts from Texas, and we are here to start you off. And while we all know the real reason you are here, don't disregard us just yet. Let us get you started right. Lube you down. Let you loose. We hope you enjoy the show. Take it, Mase!"

The beat of the drums took over. Me and Isaiah laughed at our friend's dialogue. With a beer on my hand, I rocked from side to side, to the rhythm of Tomas' guitar.

I sang song after song, remembering the lyrics perfectly. I spent most of the time up, sitting down and taking a break only on the slower songs.

"This next song is a cover from the greatest artist that came out of my hometown, Corpus Christi, Texas. What better place to share it with than with our neighbors, who equally saw her grow into the legend she is. With all the permissions and rights, and of course, respect, here it comes. This one is for you!" Tomas strings came alive, followed by the rest of the instruments.

It was a soft melody, which I recognized instantly. He had kept his eyes on me while playing, winking at me before starting to sing.

Isaiah turned his face to me, elbowing me. He recognized the sentiment, too. I didn't return his gaze. I knew he didn't demand my attention. The man at center stage did.

James hadn't paid attention to the dedication but noticed me tense up next to him. My heart was racing. My cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

I tried to dismiss it as an innocent call out. He had done it for our friendship and the memories we shared.

But then I listened to the words he enunciated, and I could not keep my mind from going back to when he had first sung that same song.

He was proclaiming himself to me, just as he had done on our middle school years. I did not expect him to be so open about it, yet again.

"Hey, that is a Selena song, right?" Said James, recognizing it.

I nodded, trying to not face him directly.

I tried to enjoy the rest of the show, but I failed miserably.

I couldn't look at my friend as a performer. I saw him with affection, paying attention to how his black shirt fitted his figure perfectly, and his clenched tattooed arms held Honey and his microphone. I admired him standing in the dim light, his hair wet with sweat from the heat, his steps tracing the stage from end to end, while he kept in sync with the rest of the band.