The Rock Star Lost His Voice, and Now He Lip-Syncs to Mine novel · Chapter 13 of 24

Chapter 13: The Real Voice

He sang for another hour, and I sat on the stool in the Well and listened to a stranger.

Every song I had ever carried for him, he gave back bigger, with a whole house of air behind it.

When the lights came up, twenty thousand people were still chanting his name.

I took off my headphones and set them on the stool very gently, because I wanted to throw them.

Bev stood outside the door with her glasses crushed in her fist.

"Go," she said. "Or don't. Either way I've got your back."

The two guards looked at the ceiling and let me pass.

I climbed the steel stairs and walked the long corridor to his dressing room, and roadies flattened themselves against the wall.

The chanting came through the cinder block.

He stood in the middle of the room with a towel round his neck, still wet from the lights.

His hands hung open at his sides.

He stood braced, waiting.

I shut the door and turned the lock behind me.

"Say something," I said. "Anything. I need to hear it."

"Yuna."

It was a warm baritone, low and rolling, with a Dundee burr that gave my name three corners.

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