Read Rocked Down & Out (Rocked #11) for Free Online Page A

and nice. She checked my vitals, wrote a prescription refill and gave me her business card after assuring me that I was, in fact, fine and cleared to work. With a promise to send that information to everyone who needed it, she left me alone.
    I took a few spare minutes to pack up my stuff, since we'd be leaving town right after the show. According to Becca's magic schedule, I was riding to the next city on one of the crew buses, which I didn't mind at all. Without Steven to trade off driving and navigation duty, I wasn't looking forward to hitting the road in the middle of the night in a state I'd never been to before.
    Once I had everything ready, I headed downstairs to grab a cab over to the stadium, since everyone else was already there for soundcheck. Matthew had sent me two sweet text messages and I re-read them while I waited for the one of the hotel's bellhops to hail me a ride.
    By the time I got to the stadium and checked in, soundcheck was underway. I waved to some of the crew and hurried down to the front of the stage. Standing where there'd be a mob of screaming fans in a few hours, I settled my camera into its small tripod. If Steven had been with me he'd be adjusting and figuring out the perfect angle to create a "mood," but I was just happy to get the whole band in the shot.
    The stage itself was massive, even in the giant void of the stadium. Lighting rigs, platforms and speakers you could climb like mountains surrounded the open center. There were huge screens covering the entire back that would alternate between pre-recorded videos and live shots of the performers. Currently the screen were showing some kind of flame-lightning combo that I thought looked more like a screensaver than a background for a rock concert, but no one asked me.
    Each of the guys had their own designated area on the stage, but except for Rick at the drums, they moved around a lot. Joe liked to stalk down the extension off the front of the stage as he sang, a sort of shallow ramp that allowed him to stand within but above the crowd. For the moment they were all in their normal places, running through a hard driving song while a new kaleidoscope-like lighting effect I didn't remember seeing before played across the stage in time with the music. Or, almost with the music. Something was a little off and the guys clearly noticed.
    Joe had stopped singing and was conferring with Dex and the control room about something I couldn't hear. Rick was tapping out an impatient beat on his drums while Matthew fiddled with the strings of his guitar. He had a strange expression on his face, almost like he was trying to hide pain, but it passed quickly and I reminded myself I was working. It wasn't the time to be obsessing over him. Whatever was happening between us was wonderful, but I couldn't let it affect my job. Especially now.
    I grabbed my notebook and jotted down something I could use as voiceover for this footage. My bosses had agreed that I should keep it simple while I was without a camera operator, and still getting back in the good graces of the band. Or at least trying to.
    After a few seconds a voice came over the loudspeaker and everyone stopped what they were doing. All four members of the band headed to the right side of the stage and a man I didn't recognize joined them. They talked animatedly for a while and I noted down that the creative process never stopped, even right before the show. I'd say something about how the band worked their asses off to make sure their fans got the best show possible. Of course, I had no idea what their little meeting was actually about. For all I knew the stranger was getting beer and pizza orders. But regardless, the script I was writing was true. For all the drama around and between the men of Dream Defiled, on stage they were perfection. In perfect harmony with each other musically. It was part of the secret of their success. That and their ability to write awesome party rock songs that felt