“Grab me a beer first,” I told him. “Actually, make it something stronger.”
I went into the band room and grabbed a clean t-shirt out of my bag. I hoped they weren’t taking photos. I looked like shit and felt even shittier. If they wanted photos, they could use the live shots. I knew I needed to shake off this mood but I had no idea how.
The manager came back with a half-empty bottle of vodka. “Ready?”
I followed him down the hallway. The press dudes looked like a bunch of twats. Surely they could just get the press kit off the manager and write something from that.
We did introductions. I forgot their names as soon as I heard them and swigged on the vodka. It went down hard but made me feel better.
“What’s the direction of the new album?” one of them asked.
“You heard the songs tonight. You tell me.”
I regretted saying that when he went off on a big spiel about it. Could he be any more boring? I yawned and cut him off.
“Yeah, enough about that.”
A few more questions, mostly wasting my time. I wanted to get backstage and party, forget the meh reaction of the crowd. There’d been a chick hanging around before the show, all legs and tits with her tongue hanging out for action. I’d have her up against the wall in the band room within ten minutes. That was the best way to work off this feeling.
I took another swig of vodka and lolled on the chair they’d set up for me. The questions droned on. I tried to look interested.
“So, what do you think of the recent criticisms?” one guy asked.
Huh? Criticisms? Yeah, I get them all the time. I ignored them. I just snorted in reply.
“It’s pretty harsh stuff, that everything you’ve done is just a pale reflection of FORSAKEN and that all your talent has just piggybacked off Tex O’Malley.”
That made me sit up straight. It was nothing new. Shit like that came up on a semi-regular basis, but it still got my back up. I’d worked damn hard since then. My sound was nothing like Tex’s. My song writing was nothing like the stuff we’d done together. I should just shrug it off but it added to the darkness surrounding me.
“It’s much more bombastic than anything Tex did,” said the journo I’d cut off earlier.
“Bombastic?” What the fuck was he even talking about?
I gave him a second look. He was vaguely familiar. I think I’d slept with his girlfriend once.
“The staging, the sound, it’s all over the top. Like you’re trying to compensate.” If his words weren’t enough, the smug look on his face made me want to punch him. All satisfied and full of his own self-importance. Fucking douche canoe. I stood up.
“Interview’s over.”
I walked out, leaving it at that. Fuck them. The manager went into damage control. He should’ve been thankful that I didn’t throw the vodka bottle at that idiot. I would’ve done once; I’d matured since then.
Yeah right, more like I didn’t want to waste good vodka.
As I walked back to the party room, I noticed Brett, the bass player, screwing the brunette I’d had my eyes on. Fuck him. I wanted first call on her. Hopefully there’d be more where that came from.
The black mood got even worse when I entered the room. A few hangers-on approached me. They were all perky and full of praise. So full of shit, more like it. We’d sucked balls. The more I thought about that, the more I believed it. Maybe I was nothing without Tex. I worked hard but he never needed to. He had that magic, that touch of genius. Bastard. I should’ve left him wallowing in his own misery instead of helping the bastard out with his problems.
Fuck Tex and fuck Julie. Fuck both the O’Malley siblings. Between them, they’d made my life hell. The shadows they cast would never leave me. I’d be an old man in a rocking chair and they’d still be torturing me in one way or another.
I necked the vodka bottle again but it was empty.
I threw it across the room at the rubbish bin but missed and it smashed on the concrete floor. A woman standing nearby screamed.
“What are you making a fuss about?” I called security over and got her thrown out.
The brunette came in from the hallway and put her arms around my neck, purring in my ear. She reeked of drummer, so I peeled her off. That made her pout but she should’ve thought about that before she let Brett put his cock in her.
Going back to the hotel to brood alone seemed like a fine option but first I needed a piss. After that, I’d find a driver to take me back.
Someone was in the bathroom. I banged on the door but they didn’t respond.
“Get the fuck out of my toilet. I need a piss.”
Still no response. Some dick having sex or doing drugs, no doubt. I had a “no drugs backstage” rule but that didn’t stop them. I sure as hell didn’t want to see some spaced out moron emerge though. There was another bathroom around somewhere. For the staff. I’d go find that.
My bladder felt like it was going to burst.
The backstage area of this place was a labyrinth though. All the staff were either still packing up gear or getting messed up, so the hallways were deserted. Jesus. I should’ve just gone out the back door and pissed in the car park. I thought I knew where I was going but even if I didn’t, at least it was quiet. Worst case scenario, I could find a corner to piss in.
That seemed like the best option. My bladder was screaming and there was not even a doorway in sight. I’d taken a wrong turn.
A straggly pot plant stood alone. I’d bet I wasn’t the first to piss on it.
I whipped my dick out, looking forward to the sheer relief that a slash would bring. It’d be the most joyous part of this miserable evening.
In mid-stream though, I heard a squeal. I turned, the trail of piss looping across the carpet. Fuck. Two fans had made their way backstage. I just hoped they didn’t get out their phones for a photo.
Chapter 4.Daisy
I’d never have done it if Meadow hadn’t put the idea in my head. I’d have gone straight to the car park and been waiting in traffic. But Meadow had put the devil in me and the idea had taken hold. Sneaking backstage, we could totally do that. I had to beat all those bikini-clad models for Devon’s affections.
“Come on, we’re just going for a walk around the building and if we happen to find an open door, we wander in.” I pulled Meadow by the arm.
“We’ll get caught. And arrested. Then the story will be in the paper — and I’m a trusted health professional. I can’t have a scandal like that on my records.” Meadow didn’t seem so keen on the idea now.
“We won’t get caught. Look, the traffic is banked up for over an hour just to get out of here. Do you want to sit in the car, bored for an hour? Or do you want to have an adventure?”
She thought about it for a minute. “I’d really like to have a kebab, actually.”
“There might be a kebab van around the back of the building. You never know.”
I stalked around the building, trying to keep to the shadows. There had to be a way in.
“Come on, keep up,” I said.
“I’m trying,” Meadow said. “But I’m also keeping my eye out for a kebab van.”
We got to the back of the building where a few guys loaded stuff into trucks.
“We can sneak in here,” I said.
I had a closer look. There was no way we’d get past those guys. One of them already had his eye on us.
“I’m not even sure if that goes anywhere but to the stage. We’d just be back where we started.”
Meadow stopped and we had a good look around. There was a steep bank leading to the back of the venue. It’d take more than a steep bank to keep me from Devon now that I was motivated.
“Maybe you’re right but really, you’d think you’d be supportive about this. I’ve been in love with the guy for decades and finally I might get to meet him.”
I puffed from the effort of getting up that bank. My shoes had to be ruined from all the mud too.
“W
hy now though? Why didn’t you think about this years ago when we were young and fit?”
“He’s moved to town. He announced this surprise gig tonight. It’s all coming together, all the signs. And today, I found a four-leaf clover. Don’t you see?”
I’d been in love with Devon for a long time. He was a soulful poet who knew exactly what I was feeling. His voice comforted me and his body excited me. I had a million and one fantasies of what it’d be like when we finally met. No real life man ever measured up to him.
“Oi!” yelled one of the roadies, who’d spotted us.
I took Meadow’s hand and we ran off. We stumbled over the dark ground. My lungs burnt and I wondered if this was just a fool mission. Even if we got inside, what would we do?
Maybe the dream wouldn’t live up to the reality.
I brushed that negativity away though. Being in the same room as him, breathing the same oxygen, that would be enough for me. Well, technically, I’d been doing that during the concert but he’d be off stage and actually looking at people with his eyes and talking to them with his voice. All that stuff regular people do.
We skimmed around the back of the building. There was a private car park and a ramp leading up to a door.
“That’s it, that’s the backstage door,” I said.
I shivered. So close to our goal. I ran up the ramp and tested the door handle. Of course, it was locked tight. We couldn’t give up and go home now though. I had to believe in the magic. We’d do this, somehow.
Then the handle turned and Meadow jumped back. Two guys came out. They didn’t look familiar; they weren’t in the band.
“What are you doing?” one of them said.
“Just came out for a cigarette,” said Meadow, putting her fingers up to her mouth in a smoking motion. “The damn door snibbed behind us.”
“You don’t have passes?”
“Damn boss is down on smoking. We had to run out while we had the chance. Now we’re going to have our arses in a sling when he finds out.”
She even managed to make her lip tremble and I swear she squeezed a tear out. I let out a sob too, more from suppressed laughter. She was a genius.
“So, what do you do in the crew? We’ve not seen you before?”
Hell, we’d be sprung now. What could we say? We had on band t-shirts and definitely looked like fans. I needed to think fast. The right answer would unlock the door to the Devon kingdom.
“We work on the merchandise stall.” I pointed to the t-shirt, impressed at the way I lied. “We just started tonight because a couple of the girls got the sack. For going out for a cigarette.”
One of the guys looked at the other, then held the door open for us.
We walked inside. I waited for sirens to screech, warning that we’d entered. But nothing. I wasn’t sure where we were though. I expected there to be a room full of crazy backstage antics, with drugs and groupies and debauchery on a grand scale. Instead, there was just a hallway. I had no idea if we should turn left or right.
“Left?” said Meadow, so we went left. “When in doubt, turn left.”
I wasn’t sure if that was true but it sounded good to me. We walked down the hallway, then got to a corner.
“Left again?” Meadow asked.
I nodded. I thought we’d just get in that outside door and be slap-bang in the middle of some rock star party instead of this empty labyrinth. How could you just hide a rock star party?
That led to more corridors though. Maybe we’d wandered into some kind of experiment where we’d have to walk down hallways forever with no way out. Like those things they do with rats. We were the rats and someone watched us. I knew we’d gotten in too easily. The hallways all looked the same, beige-coloured walls, marked and scuffed, with ugly grey carpet. There were some doors and windows but when we looked through the windows which didn’t have blinds drawn, they were just boring offices.
“What a hideous place to work,” Meadow said. “Stuck down here with no natural light.”
“Yeah, but rock stars,” I replied.
“I guess that might make an awesome view. Anyway, it’s just offices down here and nothing fun. Let’s blow this place.”
As she said it, a blast of music came from somewhere.
I tugged Meadow’s arm. “There’s a party here, and we’re going to find it.”
She nodded and we kept walking. We found a few more doors but they were locked. We opened one but it just had a bunch of musty boxes stacked in it.
We turned down another hallway.
“The party’s close. I can hear it,” Meadow said. “Just around the corner.”
Meadow rushed ahead of me but, when I got around the corner, I barrelled into the back of her. She’d stopped dead and stared at something.
The party?
Then I looked. It wasn’t a party and it wasn’t a crowd.
It was just Devon pissing on the floor!
Chapter 5.Devon
“This isn’t what you think,” I said, knowing full well it was exactly what they thought.
Neither woman made eye contact with me. I looked down and realised they were both staring at my cock. Fuck. I got my shit together and my dick in my pants. My head buzzed from the vodka, and the blackness around me pressed tighter. This would not enhance my reputation but what’s a guy to do when he’s busting for a piss?
What were they doing here anyway? They wore tour shirts and didn’t have laminates so were definitely fans. Either fans who’d snuck backstage or fans who’d won a radio giveaway? Who knew? Even with my head fuzzy from the vodka, I realised I had to play this carefully. You can be a shithead to the press, you can be a shithead to the manager but you can never, ever be a shit head to the fans. Hell, I love my fans.
I’d butter them up then dump them on the manager.
Then the one at the back, kind of hiding behind her friend, started laughing. Her laugh echoed in that empty hallway and, while I should’ve been mad at her for laughing at me, it was infectious and good natured. I couldn’t help but laugh too.
“Oops,” I said. Then put my finger up to shush them. “This is our secret. Keep this between the three of us and you can take some photos. I’ll even get you into the party for some free booze.”
The one who’d laughed grabbed her phone out of her back pocket. Not even hesitating. The other one still hung back. The shy one was small and dark haired and looked like she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in years. She had that over-tanned look that made people look older than they were. The one with the phone was tall and marshmallowy. Her blonde hair foofed out, even tied back in a ponytail. That added to the marshmallow effect. Not that she was fat, just pillowy. Like if you rested your head on her while you napped, you’d sleep really well.
“I’m Meadow,” the skinny one said. “And this is Daisy.”
“Wow, Meadow and Daisy. How rural.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of funny. We’ve been teased about it since we were kids,” Daisy said. She kind of stammered over her words but I’d gotten expert at interpreting flushed fan talk over the years.
“I’m Devon,” I said.
They both laughed. Of course they knew who I was.
Daisy grabbed her friend and moved in beside me, throwing her arm around my neck. She held the camera out for a selfie.
“Smile,” she said.
I pulled her tight. She smelt really good. I stumbled a little, so put my arms around both of them, as much to steady myself as anything.
The other girl snapped a few pics then moved away.
“Now, kiss her cheek,” she said, pushing Daisy closer.
The other girl blushed, a rosy pink glow all over her face. Like a pink marshmallow. I had my arm firmly around her shoulders and she tensed. Most fans would’ve been making the most of the situation, maybe even trying to cop a cheap feel but she didn’t seem to want to get her body too close to mine. It made me want to pull her closer and get the comfort of it.
Fans though, you don’t me
ss with them. Especially nice girls like these ones. You screw people over doing that. Far better to stick with seasoned groupies who knew the game.
After a few more snaps, we were done.
I put my arm around them both and led them off to get some drinks. I definitely needed a drink. No point leaving really. I might as well get rotten drunk here as sit on my own in a hotel room and do it.
“Fantastic concert tonight,” Meadow said.
“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”
That was why I needed to drink, I remembered now. If I drank enough, and listened to enough people tell me how great I was, I’d believe it.
We got to the backstage room.
“Here it is,” I said. “Party central.”
I kicked the door open and the three of us walked inside.
“Help yourself.” I gestured to the table filled with booze, grabbing another bottle of vodka.
Some chick ran up to me and dislodged both of them. She babbled on about something but the vodka was far more interesting. I lost track of them after that. I was going to tell the manager to make sure they were looked after but they were big girls, they could look after themselves.
That frog-faced journalist hung around. I could see him across the room. I wasn’t sure how he had the balls to stick around but some people have no clue. I’d ignore him. It’s not like anything he said mattered. The booze and the chicks, that’s why I was here.
I ended up in a discussion with the guys from the support band for ages, drinking more vodka and talking a load of shit. I hadn’t paid much attention to what else was going on. I wasn’t paying attention to how much I was drinking either. Just talking shit and getting my mind off the boring business of life.
Every time I glanced over, the Marshmallow girl was gawking at me. People were like that. I gave her a little wave and she turned away.
I’d made myself comfortable on a sofa but my vodka was almost gone and I was feeling rather sleepy.
“You partying on after this?” one of the guys asked. I’d forgotten his name.
I nodded my head but, on the downward nod my head became so heavy, I almost toppled off the sofa. I righted myself though, just as some amazing creature walked through the room.
Bad for You (Fallen Star Book 4) Page 2
