Ronan's grin, curling up his hands and feet, evoked laughter from Ollie and Maxim.
Black coffee's lethality wasn't to be underestimated, especially the low-quality brew they had at the restaurant, akin to soot water.
Ronan's reaction, though, seemed a tad exaggerated.
Cliff, on the other hand, appeared unfazed. He downed his espresso and turned to Ronan, saying, "Drink up and get ready, we've got work to do!"
The coffee wasn't about enjoyment; it was a necessity to stay awake.
They'd only managed a total of two hours of rest in the past fifty-five hours.
The rest of the time had been a high-speed race. Coffee was the lifeline to stay alert; otherwise, they might end up falling asleep on stage.
Regardless of the coffee's taste, they had a job to do.
Ronan pinched his nose, downed the coffee, wiped his mouth haphazardly, and followed his teammates back into the car, speeding towards the Old Blacksmith Bar.
"Ronan, are you feeling okay?" Ollie leaned in and asked, concern etched on his face.
Even though Ronan's fever had subsided, he still felt weak. Running at high intensity now, he worried Ollie, wondering if another accident was looming.
Ronan began winking at Ollie, trying to convey something. Ollie didn't catch on in time, and just as he was about to ask, Alice's surprised voice chimed in, "What's going on with your body?"
Understanding dawned on Ollie, but it was too late. Ronan, with a dejected expression, mouthed "Sorry" with his eyes and remained silent.
It had been a secret between Ronan and Alice, but now Ollie had inadvertently exposed it. Ronan turned to Alice and smiled, "It's alright, just had a fever a couple of days ago. I'm better now."
To be frank, Ronan had intended to keep it low-key, but Maxim chimed in, "Not just that. He had a high fever for two days and even fainted on stage. Ronan, why downplay it? You fainted, and when you woke up, you were disoriented, not knowing when or where you were, as if you'd lost your memory."
Ronan's eyes shot daggers at Maxim. However, Maxim, for some inexplicable reason, continued, "Did I say something wrong? Isn't that what happened? Why are you giving me the stink eye?"
His expression was dead serious, clearly not trying to make things difficult for Ronan.
Alice couldn't hold back her laughter, initially concerned but now slightly relieved due to Maxim's unexpected intervention. Her gaze shot towards Ronan, a look that seemed to say, "I'll talk to you later," but she inquired aloud, "How are you feeling now?"
"I'm perfectly fine!" Ronan quickly reassured, patting his chest vigorously. "Strong as an ox."
Alice briefly recollected the past two days and realized she hadn't noticed anything unusual about Ronan. She also believed he wouldn't lie about his condition, so she felt a bit more at ease.
Being in the middle of filming a documentary, Alice swallowed her words and silently mouthed to Ronan, "Take care." Worry still lingered in her eyes.
Ronan glanced at the camera lens, a hint of relief in his eyes. Thankfully, the camera had saved him from further interrogation.
As they continued talking, Bourbon Avenue came into view once more. Despite the early morning hour, the street teemed with people, and the brightly lit thoroughfare resembled daytime, exuding an infectious energy. It was a sight to behold.
The midsummer night's heatwave was scorching, making this place feel like the center of the world. It was an all-night carnival!
Amidst it all, the entrance to the Old Blacksmith Bar remained crowded. Excitement filled the air as people danced and shared their anticipation for the night's performance. The atmosphere was electric, and it was hard to believe this was the wee hours of the morning.
Unconsciously, Ollie edged closer to the car window, gazing outside with longing.
Unable to resist, Ollie rolled down the window, allowing the night's heat to rush in, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Before even stepping on stage, the adrenaline was already taking control, evident in their body language.
Boom boom boom!
The sound of music grew louder as they neared the parking lot, reverberating through the air. However, their eager steps were halted at the back door.
The security personnel meticulously examined their access documents, a process that took fifteen long minutes.
Cliff had received these documents from the organizer earlier in the morning.
Then they scrutinized the band members' identities based on these documents, a necessary step considering the backstage chaotic nature during a performance.
Even after these checks, they still verified Ronan's guitar to ensure no hidden weapons, delaying them another ten minutes before finally granting access.
Maxim was irate at the delay. "They're treating us like an unknown small band," he muttered, clearly agitated.
"But everyone attending the full moon party tonight is from independent singers and bands. Why this different treatment?"
His frustration was justified. Tonight's attendees consisted entirely of independent musicians, most of whom were relatively unknown.
The security personnel should have been accustomed to unfamiliar names, but their attitude suggested otherwise.
Ronan, however, maintained his composure. He patted Maxim on the shoulder and said, "Remember our goal tonight. Let's not let these insignificant issues affect our performance. We should carry ourselves like kings, at least when we step onto that stage. We should exude the confidence of conquerors!"