Bonus Scene: “Blue Memories,” A Party Crashers Deleted Scene
The following is a deleted scene from Party Crashers. This scene involves the first time Ramsey saw Torched perform and when he might have acquired the band tee of Torched’s that KC discovered that he had. It’s a story he referenced at the end of the book but they hadn’t gotten around to discussing yet.
Problem Child is Book 1 in the Blue Ivy Prep series. To read more, Mad Boys is Book 2.
Note: This scene is brought to you because of a Review Challenge. What is that? And also, please be aware that spoilers may lie ahead.
“We don’t look for old songs, but for the memories they carry.”
The words danced in a circle in my head as I took my seat. There were easily a few hundred people packed into the open-air venue. It took a lot of luck, and some connections, to score a time slot at Pacific West Pop. The four-day music festival had been growing in popularity—hence why Dad was here, he was scouting for his label.
I studied the list of performances on my phone. I still couldn’t believe I’d seen her name on here. It had to be a glitch, right? Gibs hadn’t mentioned that she would be here. Then I hadn’t really talked to Gibs that much this summer. They’d left to kick off the Asia leg of their tour about five minutes after my graduation.
Lachlan and Jonas were with their respective fathers and I’d headed up to Seattle to hang with mine, though I had a couple of remote classes to finish to lock down the first twelve credit hours I needed to complete so I could apply to be a teaching assistant when we went back to school.
Shaking that off, I went back to the program again and scrolled down until I found the listing and then checked the time. Yep, I had it right, it was on there. Torched featuring Kaitlin Crosse, Aubrey Miller, Yvette Chanteur in debut performances of their first album.
Self-recorded and funded—well she could afford it—and the songs were all written by the girls. That was wild. She was twelve and she wrote an album. It would be amazing if they’d written one song, but no, they’d written several and they’d released the songs themselves with no label.
That was just wild.
“Hey,” Dad said as he eased past others to drop into the seat next to mine. He had a brown bag with what smelled like burgers. “Grabbed you some lunch.”
“Thanks,” I told him, but I wasn’t hungry.
He chuckled and then glanced at the stage. “I figured I’d find you over at the moody blues stages.”
I snorted and then clicked off my phone. I’d do more research on “Torched” later, I was here for curiosity’s sake. Pacific West was somewhere between Joshua Tree and Coachella and while I wasn’t usually a huge fan of the music scene, I’d been having a good time.
“Just curious,” I told him. “Did you see who the members are for Torched?”
“Yep,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and adjusted his sunglasses. “Gonna take a look at them for the label. There are probably a dozen other labels here on scouting missions cause of their ties to Gibs.”
Weird way to say “daughter” but I just shook my head. I was too used to the verbal play in the industry. Another reason to focus on other areas. Before I could retort though, a guitar solo began to blast out of the speakers and it cut off conversations everywhere as attention went to the stage.
Despite the wild acoustics, though, there was no one up there. I wasn’t the only one straining to see who was playing, but a sudden rippling gasp accompanied by people standing brought me to my feet and there she was…
Tiny little thing. At twelve, with cool blonde hair streaked in blue she began making her way between one of the wider “aisles” created by the amphitheater style the setup of folding chairs created.
Tiny, rocking a guitar that seemed almost as big as she was but the acoustics were damn near perfect and she was making that guitar weep.
“Holy shit…” I whispered and Dad blew out a breath next to me.
“That, Ramsey,” Dad said in a hushed tone full of reverence despite the rueful nature of his smile, “is how you know a star is born.”
To be fair, I could find no fault in that argument. She hadn’t sung a note, just let the guitar pour out her soul for all of us. By the time she reached the stage, the other girls had joined her and I vaguely noted there were more musicians up there.
When the last notes from the guitar drifted off, I wasn’t alone in holding my breath. The whole crowd was silent and then exploded in enthusiastic applause.
She was a star.
As the crowd quieted, she opened her mouth and released the first notes of a song I’d never heard before. She performed it acapella with the girls jumping in on the second line and I was riveted.
I had no words to describe the purity of their voices, the higher notes they could reach seemed effortless but it was the way they worked their voices together—they sang like it was their instrument and they could make the words do whatever they wanted.
Yeah, I bought a t-shirt by the time they were done.
I bought one of their CDs too.