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Jul. 25th, 2015 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lang_noriegavosJuly, 24th
From the darkness behind the stage curtains, she could hear the crowd. They had checked out the earlier acts and checked out the crowd, but it sounded like it had grown since then. And grown a lot. Lang wasn't prone to stage fright for whatever reason; Juilliard had taught her how to handle performing in front of people. But this feeling, this was different, right? She wasn't nervous, or was she?
Ugh, she thought as she fidgeted and turned her back to the crowd. She hadn't heard her husband come up behind her. She visibly jumped when he startled her.
“Jesus Christ,” she said.
“Sorry. I thought you heard me,” he answered.
“I was listening to them,” she said, nodding her head to the crowd.
Seb moved his guitar so it draped down his back and rubbed a hand over her shoulder, “How you feelin’?”
“I can't do this,” she said, shaking her head quickly.
“Yes you can,” he answered without missing a beat. “It's the same as all the others. How many times have you done this now?”
“I lost count.”
"Exactly,” he said.
“I'm going to throw up,” she said, closing her eyes.
“No you won't,” he answered.
She opened her eyes again but didn't say anything.
“Well, okay maybe. But seriously, you have nothing to worry about. These people are here to see you.”
“I know! And if I don't meet their expectations—“
Seb cut her off, "Stop. The fastest way to let them down is to doubt yourself. You can do this in your sleep. And I bet you haven't been paying attention to all he amazing things people are saying about you. These people, people who actually have interest and experience and some validity to what they're saying, are so impressed with you.”
He took a breath and continued, “I bet you don't even realize anymore just how fucking high you can sing. You have three octaves, Lang, okay? And there are so many girls who are using words like ‘Queen of Metal’, ‘Goddess’, ‘epic’. They love you. They just want you to go out there and give the best you can and if the best you've got is only 75%, that's okay. Because they still get to see you. They don't care about the rest of us. You, this mom from New York, who fucking sings metal for fucks sake in a language that’s not her first.”
"Yeah, but—“
He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, cutting her off with soft words, “No buts.”
She was silent, eyes closed, breathing him in. It reminded her of that day in January when he’d met them in Denver. She’d called him in tears the night before because she’d left out an entire verse of that song that is still plaguing her. When she had seen him for the first time that night, she’d felt all the anxiety and fear drain out of her. He’d stood in the wings and watched with his hands in his pockets and a look of pride on his face. His support is all she needed that night and any night.
He kept his tone soft still, this moment was only the two of them; there was no one else in the world. “And if you don't believe me, which I know you don't, then remember how you got here, babe. Rick Rubin isn't fooled; he knows what he hears. He knows you are incredibly talented and something insanely special.”
Pulling back so she could look at him without going cross eyed, Lang said “Did you see the rest of what they’re saying about me?”
“Yeah, I saw. But Lang, you have to accept that you can’t please everyone no matter how well you do. Some people are just not going to like your style. And you know what? Those idiots don’t matter. Rick Fucking Rubin was so enamored with you, all you had to do was say ‘yes’. I had nothing to do with it and because I know you’re thinking it, I did not twist his arm.”
His words were helping. She was actually feeling like maybe she could give the last show all she had left and do it with her chin up. She had been waiting for this show for so long, not just because tomorrow she’d be sleeping in her own bed, but because of all the things she wants to tell the fans. Plus that extra surprise that’s forcing her hand earlier than planned.
So why was that voice in the back of her head still worrying about how she holds up against AJ? Because AJ has everything she has and a ton more. She cast her eyes to the ground but couldn’t see her shoes through all the layers of floof in her dress. She was glad it had a high waist. She’ll feel a little better when she has access to the rest of the clothes in her closet and could pick and choose things that fit a little better.
“Lang…” Seb said gently.
She looked up again but didn’t say anything.
“Stop comparing yourself to AJ,” he said. It’s not really mind reading when someone has known a person as long as he’s known her. “That’s like trying to compare bananas and kiwis.”
Lang raised both eyebrows, “Oh really? I want to see where you go with this.
“Uh…all I mean is that they couldn’t be any more different. I buy bananas because I like bananas; I buy kiwis because I like kiwis. I don’t buy a kiwi expecting it to taste like a banana.”
She just looked at him with an eyebrow still up and an amused smirk on her face.
"Or maybe I should compare lead and feathers? My point is, Lang, is that you’re nothing like her and she’s nothing like you. Who cares if she’s younger?”
The amusement in her eyes was gone, replaced with that gray cloud that seemed to have settled in her head somewhere over the last two weeks. “But you’re not denying she’s thinner. You know she’s taller than me, right?”
Seb let go of the neck of his guitar so he could put a hand on either side of her head. “Okay, stop. You are absolutely gorgeous and I have never stopped thinking that in all the years we’ve known each other. And that has nothing to do with your value as a human being and you know that.”
“I do know that, but it’s so much easier said than done,” she said, taking one of his hands in hers.
“Stop thinking about AJ. She is who she is and you are who you are. She’s not better than you, just different. I wish I had all day to drill that into you, but you know what, I’d rather hear you sing. And so would all of Atlantic City.”
She decided to let the talk about AJ drop. There were other issues she’d brought up the other day that needed a real conversation in the quiet of their own home and nothing was going to get resolved in the dark of a stage, crammed into the few minutes before a performance.
“Ugh,” she said, echoing her thoughts from earlier, “Can’t I just…not and go sleep instead?
He shook his head as he brought the guitar back up, “One more and then you can sleep for three days straight if you want. I’ll take the kidlet and she and I will disappear somewhere and we’ll leave the Mother of Metal alone.”
She smiled, “Deal.”
Plucking his pick from between the strings on the head of his guitar, he picked a few bars of Summertime Sadness. The sound of the strings was barely audible over the outside noise without an amp, but it didn’t matter when he sang over it, “Nothing scares me anymore.”
He stepped around her and she took his place. It was time for him to go, but Lang had 30 seconds to kiss her husband. “Kiss me hard before you go,” she sang, filling in the next line of the song.
He quickly stepped in to kiss her, hard. “Te amo, mi esposa,” he whispered before taking off so he wouldn’t miss his cue.
Lang stood there, eyes closed, listening to the crowd go nuts as her guys took up their places. The intro started up and she pulled her focus inward, away from all the negative thoughts and all the thoughts about AJ. One more show. She could do it. She’s living her dreams.
She focused on the opening chords, on the notes she knows are Seb’s. She counts and waits and thinks about how Rick Rubin thought she was worth it.
From the darkness behind the stage curtains, she could hear the crowd. They had checked out the earlier acts and checked out the crowd, but it sounded like it had grown since then. And grown a lot. Lang wasn't prone to stage fright for whatever reason; Juilliard had taught her how to handle performing in front of people. But this feeling, this was different, right? She wasn't nervous, or was she?
Ugh, she thought as she fidgeted and turned her back to the crowd. She hadn't heard her husband come up behind her. She visibly jumped when he startled her.
“Jesus Christ,” she said.
“Sorry. I thought you heard me,” he answered.
“I was listening to them,” she said, nodding her head to the crowd.
Seb moved his guitar so it draped down his back and rubbed a hand over her shoulder, “How you feelin’?”
“I can't do this,” she said, shaking her head quickly.
“Yes you can,” he answered without missing a beat. “It's the same as all the others. How many times have you done this now?”
“I lost count.”
"Exactly,” he said.
“I'm going to throw up,” she said, closing her eyes.
“No you won't,” he answered.
She opened her eyes again but didn't say anything.
“Well, okay maybe. But seriously, you have nothing to worry about. These people are here to see you.”
“I know! And if I don't meet their expectations—“
Seb cut her off, "Stop. The fastest way to let them down is to doubt yourself. You can do this in your sleep. And I bet you haven't been paying attention to all he amazing things people are saying about you. These people, people who actually have interest and experience and some validity to what they're saying, are so impressed with you.”
He took a breath and continued, “I bet you don't even realize anymore just how fucking high you can sing. You have three octaves, Lang, okay? And there are so many girls who are using words like ‘Queen of Metal’, ‘Goddess’, ‘epic’. They love you. They just want you to go out there and give the best you can and if the best you've got is only 75%, that's okay. Because they still get to see you. They don't care about the rest of us. You, this mom from New York, who fucking sings metal for fucks sake in a language that’s not her first.”
"Yeah, but—“
He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, cutting her off with soft words, “No buts.”
She was silent, eyes closed, breathing him in. It reminded her of that day in January when he’d met them in Denver. She’d called him in tears the night before because she’d left out an entire verse of that song that is still plaguing her. When she had seen him for the first time that night, she’d felt all the anxiety and fear drain out of her. He’d stood in the wings and watched with his hands in his pockets and a look of pride on his face. His support is all she needed that night and any night.
He kept his tone soft still, this moment was only the two of them; there was no one else in the world. “And if you don't believe me, which I know you don't, then remember how you got here, babe. Rick Rubin isn't fooled; he knows what he hears. He knows you are incredibly talented and something insanely special.”
Pulling back so she could look at him without going cross eyed, Lang said “Did you see the rest of what they’re saying about me?”
“Yeah, I saw. But Lang, you have to accept that you can’t please everyone no matter how well you do. Some people are just not going to like your style. And you know what? Those idiots don’t matter. Rick Fucking Rubin was so enamored with you, all you had to do was say ‘yes’. I had nothing to do with it and because I know you’re thinking it, I did not twist his arm.”
His words were helping. She was actually feeling like maybe she could give the last show all she had left and do it with her chin up. She had been waiting for this show for so long, not just because tomorrow she’d be sleeping in her own bed, but because of all the things she wants to tell the fans. Plus that extra surprise that’s forcing her hand earlier than planned.
So why was that voice in the back of her head still worrying about how she holds up against AJ? Because AJ has everything she has and a ton more. She cast her eyes to the ground but couldn’t see her shoes through all the layers of floof in her dress. She was glad it had a high waist. She’ll feel a little better when she has access to the rest of the clothes in her closet and could pick and choose things that fit a little better.
“Lang…” Seb said gently.
She looked up again but didn’t say anything.
“Stop comparing yourself to AJ,” he said. It’s not really mind reading when someone has known a person as long as he’s known her. “That’s like trying to compare bananas and kiwis.”
Lang raised both eyebrows, “Oh really? I want to see where you go with this.
“Uh…all I mean is that they couldn’t be any more different. I buy bananas because I like bananas; I buy kiwis because I like kiwis. I don’t buy a kiwi expecting it to taste like a banana.”
She just looked at him with an eyebrow still up and an amused smirk on her face.
"Or maybe I should compare lead and feathers? My point is, Lang, is that you’re nothing like her and she’s nothing like you. Who cares if she’s younger?”
The amusement in her eyes was gone, replaced with that gray cloud that seemed to have settled in her head somewhere over the last two weeks. “But you’re not denying she’s thinner. You know she’s taller than me, right?”
Seb let go of the neck of his guitar so he could put a hand on either side of her head. “Okay, stop. You are absolutely gorgeous and I have never stopped thinking that in all the years we’ve known each other. And that has nothing to do with your value as a human being and you know that.”
“I do know that, but it’s so much easier said than done,” she said, taking one of his hands in hers.
“Stop thinking about AJ. She is who she is and you are who you are. She’s not better than you, just different. I wish I had all day to drill that into you, but you know what, I’d rather hear you sing. And so would all of Atlantic City.”
She decided to let the talk about AJ drop. There were other issues she’d brought up the other day that needed a real conversation in the quiet of their own home and nothing was going to get resolved in the dark of a stage, crammed into the few minutes before a performance.
“Ugh,” she said, echoing her thoughts from earlier, “Can’t I just…not and go sleep instead?
He shook his head as he brought the guitar back up, “One more and then you can sleep for three days straight if you want. I’ll take the kidlet and she and I will disappear somewhere and we’ll leave the Mother of Metal alone.”
She smiled, “Deal.”
Plucking his pick from between the strings on the head of his guitar, he picked a few bars of Summertime Sadness. The sound of the strings was barely audible over the outside noise without an amp, but it didn’t matter when he sang over it, “Nothing scares me anymore.”
He stepped around her and she took his place. It was time for him to go, but Lang had 30 seconds to kiss her husband. “Kiss me hard before you go,” she sang, filling in the next line of the song.
He quickly stepped in to kiss her, hard. “Te amo, mi esposa,” he whispered before taking off so he wouldn’t miss his cue.
Lang stood there, eyes closed, listening to the crowd go nuts as her guys took up their places. The intro started up and she pulled her focus inward, away from all the negative thoughts and all the thoughts about AJ. One more show. She could do it. She’s living her dreams.
She focused on the opening chords, on the notes she knows are Seb’s. She counts and waits and thinks about how Rick Rubin thought she was worth it.
