It’s 1987, and Megadeth is playing a packed club on the Sunset Strip. David Ellefson is locked into the rhythm of the set when he spots her near the front of the crowd. Her blonde hair catches the stage lights, and her eyes are locked on him. She’s not screaming or moshing—she’s just there, like the music speaks to her.

For the first time in years, David misses a note. He recovers quickly, but he can’t stop glancing at her. When the set ends, he searches the crowd until he finds her at the bar, laughing with a friend.

Summoning courage, he approaches her. –“You seemed like you were enjoying the show.”