Chapter 38: #KaylaInManchester

“Hey Y’all!”

The crowd’s roar in response was deafening, but Kayla put one hand on her hip and frowned.

“Aw, come on, Manchester! London and Birmingham were louder than that. I know y’all have got more for me. I said, HEY Y’ALL!”

If it had been possible to take the roof off this building, the crowd’s thunderous reply would have done just that. However, we were buried deep in the basement of the Victoria Warehouse—an early twentieth-century warehouse converted into a concert venue and exhibition centre.

Due to being in the basement, this venue featured a low ceiling, and the audience filled a vast open space with standing room only—a stark contrast to the earlier theatres and cinemas where Kayla had performed in London and Birmingham, with their lofty ceilings and tiered seating.

That low ceiling and the “closed-in,” almost claustrophobic, nature of the venue didn’t allow the sound to disperse. Instead, it surrounded the audience, rendering the sheer volume completely overwhelming.

The walls and floor reverberated with music, particularly Bones’ drums and Ronnie’s bass. You could feel every note deep in your gut. It was almost unbearable.

Kayla had already performed her opening number, so I had experienced the full force of how intense this concert would be. I was in the front row, just a few feet from the stage, with a barrier separating us from it and a couple of security guards standing watch in the gap.

It was a Boots ‘n’ Bourbon night, but unlike in Birmingham, where Blake had introduced Kayla by inviting her onto the stage with him, he announced her from the wings this time, and the show began as her London performances did. Blackfriars’ Nightmare took the stage first, with Roxie playing a repeating riff, gradually joined by the others, before Kayla strode onto the stage through a cloud of dry ice, greeted the crowd, and launched straight into ‘Bright Lights and Dancing Boots.’

The building’s acoustics meant that while the music was significantly louder and more intense than at her previous concerts, it wasn’t quite as crisp or as ‘pure.’ It carried a raw, visceral energy to it.

But, thankfully, Kayla’s angel voice still shone through—a blinding light in the musical soundscape.

And Kayla looked stunning as well. She wore a form-fitting denim dress styled like a long shirt, complemented by a wide leather belt around her waist, her knee-high snakeskin cowboy boots, and a matching cowboy hat.

I had Mark, Imogen, and Mark’s friends to my right, while Nathan, with his four friends, stood to my left. All five of them gazed up at Kayla in utter rapture. Mark’s parents were on the other side of Nathan and his friends.

Still reeling from the audience’s deafening response to her “Hey Y’all,” and with a smile a mile wide, Kayla screamed, “Well, Hell Yeah, Manchester! That’s more like it!”

There was yet another ear-splitting roar from the assembled mass of humanity.

“Now, Manchester, I have to tell you, this could well be my last show in your United Kingdom for some time because, yesterday morning, I officially finished recording my new album!” Kayla took the mic away from her mouth, screamed, and did a ‘happy dance.’ Then she put the mic back to her mouth and pointed into the crowd with her other hand. “To all the folks over in my United States watching on YouTube—Nashville, I’m coming home!”

I knew this was coming. I knew she’d planned to announce the completion of her album and her return to Nashville. And I knew this was all part of the act—that this was Kayla telling her fans she was coming home with such enthusiasm and not my Carly.

But, hearing her say it still felt like a dagger to the heart.

As Kayla launched into another upbeat track, the YouTube comment section projected onto the massive screen behind her went wild. Comment after comment expressed her fans’ delight at the completion of the album and her impending return ‘home.’

I took a deep breath and concentrated on Kayla’s performance.

It might be my last chance to see her on stage for a long time.

This was the seventh time I’d seen Kayla on stage since she moved to Westmouth, including the four songs she’d sung with Blackfriars’ Nightmare at Porky’s. And she’d gotten better each and every time. She was already a confident performer, but now that the British audience knew her better, they reacted to her with more enthusiasm. Kayla fed off the energy they gave her, which in turn lifted her performance, leading to even more energy from the crowd.

An infinite feedback loop of energy and performance.

Not every show was exactly the same. She did mostly the same songs—the songs from her first two albums—but did change up the order in which she performed them slightly. And the covers she chose to do were different at each show, too—apart from one.

She performed “Always” at every show. And at every show, the audience had been utterly captivated by it. It was a truly mesmerising performance of a wonderful song.

It was no wonder it had gone straight to number one after its release. It had sold over thirty thousand physical copies and had over seventy-five thousand downloads in Britain alone, which had netted me almost fifty thousand pounds.

I didn’t have sales figures for the United States yet, but it was a much bigger country than Britain...

This Manchester show was the first time I’d been this close to her as she performed it since that time at Porky’s. The first time since then that she’d been able to look down at me as she sang the chorus.

“And I ... Will love you ... Bay Bey ... Always!”

Lana had once told me that when she sang this song, Carly meant every word. And from the look in her eye as she sang it directly to me, standing there in the front row, I could tell. Lana had been right.

Carly loved me. Truly, deeply loved me. And she always would. I could see it in her eyes. I could hear it in her voice.

And I knew that her departure was going to shatter her heart just as much as it would break mine.

Kayla strode back onto the stage, her guitar slung around her neck, to give her audience the encore they had demanded.

“Okay, Manchester, I want to do something a bit special for y’all tonight.” She adjusted the microphone in the stand as she spoke. “Two weeks ago in Birmingham, I performed two brand new songs from my new album that I’d just finished writing that week. You may have seen some of the videos that people at the show shared. The songs were ‘Vulnerable’ and ‘The Man You are Today.’

“And if it’s okay with y’all, I’d like to do both of them, along with one more song from my new album tonight. That okay with y’all?”

The crowd roared their approval.

“Now, the YouTube stream is over, so I don’t have to pretend to get upset if y’all video these songs. In fact, I want y’all to. I want y’all to video them and share them because these three songs are really special to me. Very personal. And I think they deserve to be shared.”

All around me, those who hadn’t already taken out their phones (and many had) pulled them out and opened the camera app.

Nathan and his friends did.

Even Mark and his parents did.

But I didn’t. I didn’t want to watch Carly through a mobile phone screen.

No, my eyes were on her live and in person.

She strummed the guitar.

“Okay, this one’s called ‘Vulnerable.’”

‘Vulnerable.’

I suspected that every woman in the room would instantly know exactly what this song was about. After all, Imogen, Vanessa, and Chloë had grasped the meaning the first time Carly had played it for us all.