Anya and the Shy Guy (Backstage Pass)

by Suze Winegardner

  Finally they gained a few seconds on their pursuers. They rounded a corner and he dragged her into a storefront. It was a posh men’s store. They must have changed neighborhoods fast, but she knew from experience that you only had to cross a road to be in a totally different environment in Tulsa.

  The bell on the door clanged and a perfectly styled man in a three piece suit—wow, but he must have been hot—emerged from the back of the store. “Can I help…” he began. He did a double take at Will, and then in a second took in the people rushing past the window. Will ducked behind a rack of suits, and Anya followed.

  She peeked out between tweedy jackets. People were streaming past the window. And then some stragglers stopped and looked around them. Panting, they started to peer into all the shop windows.

  “Quickly, hide in here,” the shop owner said. He pointed through a door. Will grabbed her hand and ran, still crouching, into the room and slammed the door shut.

  Darkness. Complete and total darkness.

  “So what was that about living life on the edge?” she whispered.

  “Very funny,” he replied in the dark.

  “Where are we?” Anya whispered.

  “In a menswear store, Tulsa, United States of America. Did you bang your head?” he whispered back.

  She went to push him, but she pushed thin air. “Not what I meant. Where are you?”

  “I’m right here. Where’s the light switch?” he said, a smile in his voice.

  She groped the wall, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. Suddenly too hot and like she couldn’t breathe. Shit. Frantically she searched for a light, but the walls were completely bare.

  Her breath started to come in pants. “I can’t find it. I can’t find the light.” She cringed at the panic she heard in her own voice.

  Outside in the store, the door rang again as someone came in.

  “Shhhhh,” Will said.

  “I can’t, I can’t…” she said. An arm snaked around her waist and a hand covered her mouth.

  “Shhhhh.”

  She wriggled free of his hand and couldn’t help her heavy breathing. She sounded like a total mouth breather. He pulled her close and stroked her back, as if she were a baby that needed soothing. For some reason that pissed her off and she jerked free. “I’m not a baby!”

  He took his arms away from her and she was suddenly chilled and alone in the dark. A whimper escaped her, but then she felt his light fingers in her hair. She turned her head into the caress, suddenly needing his touch. To not feel alone. It was an alien feeling, and she explored it with her mind, like fingers snaking over a braille book. Her breathing steadied. And she stepped back as the door opened in the shop again, bell jangling through the door.

  “I’m sorr—” she began before his hand slid over her mouth.

  “Shhhh.”

  Muffled voices came from the store, the words “Will Fray,” however, were clear and repetitive. She stilled and listened intently. How many people were out there? Were they going to ransack the place? Were they safe? She’d seen firsthand what a mob mentality looked like during the Occupy demonstrations. People seemed to get out of hand much faster when they were in a group.

  “I guess you’re going to have an interesting story to blog tonight,” he whispered against her ear. The intimacy of it made her stomach flicker with…a strange excitement that she hadn’t felt since the Christmas Eve before her mom had left. His face was so close to hers that she felt his light exhale against her cheek.

  She could so easily turn her head and kiss him. His lips must be just there. Then she realized his arm was around her and pressed against the small of her back. All of her was against him. She should step away.

  She should step back maybe. Maybe go to the other side of the room. Open the door maybe. Maybe… All the while reveling in the feel of him. She hadn’t been this close to another human since Jude gave her a quick hug good-bye six months ago. It had been a shock to both of them as neither of them were comfortable with touching, and she’d laughed at the awkwardness of the hug, and he had given one of his rare brief smiles.

  Meanwhile, she still hadn’t moved away from Will, but as soon as she realized that she wanted to wrap one of her own arms around him, she did step back. Moved back into a space of sanity. Where she wouldn’t feel so tempted to kiss this…stranger.

  What was wrong with her? One good meal and a safe place to sleep for a night and she was getting all hot and bothered by a boy. How soft. And dangerous.

  The door swung open and the perfectly dressed man appeared. He stepped back to allow them out, and they peered into the room. “Oh sorry. I should have put the light on for you.”

  Anya looked back into the room, now illuminated by daylight, and discovered they’d been in a very comfortable dressing room with two comfy armchairs. If he’d switched on the light, that weird, very intimate ten minutes would never have happened.

  “I got rid of them. I have a back door, but you might need to call someone to come get you. There are a lot of people still roaming around trying to find you.

  “No problem,” Will said. “Thank you very much for hiding us. Can I send you anything to thank you?”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but could you send me an autographed photo of the gay one? Miles is it? It’ll make a perfect birthday present for a good friend of mine.”

  Miles was gay? Was this the scoop she’d been looking for? Suddenly she hoped not. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel about outing a boy. Yeah she did. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “Of course. No problem. Do you have a card? Write your friend’s name down and I’ll make sure he personalizes one for you.”

  The man scribbled and flushed as he handed the card to Will. It was kind of cute.

  The car came after a few minutes with a driver Will didn’t seem to know, and he held the door for her to slip into the back.

  “Miles is gay?” she asked. She could have sworn there was some recent article about a childhood sweetheart. Aimee—that was it.

  Will snapped on his seat belt and gave her a wicked smile. “Nah. He’s English. But it’s a fine line, you know?”

  A strange feeling bubbled in her chest and a loud laugh-snort erupted from her closed mouth and therefore her nose. Her hands flew to her face in horror. Was that how she sounded when she laughed? She hadn’t laughed properly in so long, but she was sure it didn’t sound as mortifying as that.

  “Did you just snort?” he laughed. His was perfect, of course. No snort. No worry there was snot coming out of his nose. “Excellent. Just when this day could not get any more worthwhile, you snort.” He settled back into his seat and watched the streets fly by. “I’ve got ammo with Miles and now with you. Yup, it’s a good day.”

  She flashed out a fist to punch his arm, but he caught her hand even while he was looking out of the window. He held her fist in his large hand for a second before turning back to her. She wanted to jerk her hand away, but the warmth and the rapport they were suddenly sharing made her hesitate. Why? She had no earthly clue. She pulled it away.

  “So does that…insanity happen to you all the time?” she asked, still needing stuff for her blog post. In her head she was trying to separate the nuggets of information she got that she could use in her blog, to the long-con stuff she could write for the long article. Long-con. She couldn’t believe she’d used that phrase. Classic Jude.

  She sat up with intent. That’s right. Jude. She wasn’t looking to get cozy with Will. She needed the scoop. The thing she could sell for enough money to help get off the streets, and if she could find him, get Jude the help he deserved. She gazed out of the window, angry at herself for spending time looking into Will’s eyes instead of watching the streets for Jude.

  Dammit. She needed to get her mind back in the game.

  Get the dirt, Anya.

  Chapter Eight

  Matt wracked his brain trying to remember what it had been like when Will first appeared on that stupid sho
w. “In the beginning it was okay. I mean, when we were on the show, a lot of people preferred the other acts, so the attention wasn’t that big. But as the other acts were voted off, there was more and more pressure to be single and available, and visible…and open, I guess.”

  The car bumped over a pothole and he almost fell into her lap. Super-cool, dude.

  “You’re pressured to be single?” she asked, looking back at him for the first time since he’d held her fist.

  Shit. Was anyone supposed to know that? He couldn’t remember. “At first we were. I mean, I don’t think anyone minded because, hello? Girls at every stop? Who wouldn’t like that? But I guess this last year has been weird. The guys have been finding girlfriends, and I didn’t really notice it happening at all. One minute we were all playing World of Warcraft every night, and next time I looked up, they were coupled off.”

  Yeah. Weird. In truth, he’d been so stressed about protecting Will, he wouldn’t have noticed if the freaking country had been taken over by aliens.

  “So everyone has a girlfriend now?” she said.

  “Except Nathan and me, I think. I don’t know really.” He started to backtrack. “Remember we don’t want to talk about it, though, so it’s off the record.” Last thing he needed was being quoted as saying none of the guys were available. Be a fucking nightmare if he kept his brother from being fired all these months, only to get canned because of some young reporter. At least, she looked young. “How old are you anyway?”

  She looked away. Huh. Was she really super-old? Super-young?

  “What’s the matter? Cat got your…age? Wait. Are you, like, fifty?”

  Her head spun around, and her mouth gaped open. Score.

  “What? Fifty? I look fifty?” And then she clocked his grin and punched his arm again. He let her this time.

  “No. How old are you, really?”

  “I don’t know what to say. When I turned up, Natasha told me that LJ insisted on everyone being over twenty-five…I don’t know…because he didn’t want anyone to be tempted to do anything bad with you guys, I think.”

  First he’d heard of an age restriction for the workers. But for once, LJ had maybe had the right idea. Because Matt was finding it very, very hard not to fantasize about just what sort of bad things he could do with Anya.

  “So we’ll do a whole ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ thing about your age then,” he said.

  “Deal.” She looked so relieved that a small concern about her age lodged itself in his head. Hmmm.

  “So maybe you don’t say anything about us having to stay single, and I won’t mention your age to anyone. But you should feel free to say that Miles is gay.”

  She grinned at him. “I’m not going to say that.”

  “Oh, go on. I’ll let you off one of your dares.” he said.

  “What dares?” She frowned. “I don’t remember any dares.”

  “This evening you’re watching the show from the podium at the side of the stage. If I look at you and don’t see you dancing, you owe me a dare. I know I’m going to get at least three or four per show, so I’ll let you off one. That’s all.”

  Her mouth twisted and her eyes narrowed into an “I’m going to get you” expression.

  “Here we are.” The car passed the screaming girls and security waved them through. They pulled up outside The One and got out. “I’ve got to spend the rest of the day getting ready and psyching up for the show. Meet me afterward?”

  “Okay. Are you looking forward to it?”

  Meeting her? He furrowed his brow. “Forward to…?”

  “The show,” she said, heaving her bag onto her shoulder.

  “Oh right. Yeah. That too.” He watched her blush and winked at her as he slammed the door.

  She spun on her feet like a dancer, paused, and then walked off to Hanging On. Truth be told, he’d rather like to hang on to her. She was a puzzle. The more she said, the less he understood about her. But every time they were together, he felt like they were on a date. And when they’d been so close… So close in that dark changing room—he swallowed, watching her disappear into her bus—there’d definitely been trouser tenting.

  God only knew how he’d have been able to control himself if he’d actually kissed her. He’d been so ready to seal the deal, but it’d been so dark, he hadn’t wanted to risk passionately kissing her chin or nose. There really wasn’t any walking it back from French kissing a nose. He was proud of his restraint.

  He rolled his eyes at himself and stepped up into the bus. Opposite the door was a makeup and costuming schedule. He was up first. Joy. That meant he was the one who’d have to sit around in full stage makeup and their itchy first costume for three hours.

  The guys were fighting. Again. As much as everyone had mellowed and become better humored the last month or so, on show day, tensions and emotions always ran high. In his cheat book, Will had warned him not to mess with Ryder on show day. He was the antsiest of all of them. And even when he wasn’t, he was the one most likely to tour-rage someone.

  “I swear to God, if you don’t take that tweet down, right now, tweeting is the only sound you’ll be able to make tonight. Understand?” Ryder had Miles by his collar, his fist drawn back as if he was ready to explode.

  “Relax,” Trevin said from the sofa. “He didn’t really tweet it. It’s his private account. We’re the only ones who can see that one. Look, it’s the account with the padlock.”

  “You better be fucking right.” Ryder dropped Miles and looked at his own phone. “Okay. Don’t fuck with me again, dickhead. Otherwise I’m just going to punch first and ask questions later.”

  “Take a pill…it was just a joke.” Miles grinned.

  Matt had no idea how they all managed to stay sane in one bus together. Sometimes it was good bonding time, sometimes they were ticking time bombs. And it wasn’t so easy to get off when you’re going seventy down a highway. In a bus with your half-naked body plastered down the side. He flipped open a galley cupboard and grabbed a file with Miles’s headshots. He took one off the top.

  “Here. Sign this to”—he pulled the card from his pocket—“to Chris.” Perfect. He’d totally think it was a girl. “You owe me for dumping me at the shelter.”

  Miles smiled mildly. “You know that wasn’t my idea. But it’s nice to know someone wants my signed photo. I’m the heartthrob, you know.”

  Matt grinned. Miles sometimes liked to try to rile the others with his heartthrob status. He was only playing with them, though. He was definitely not the type to think he was really irresistible.

  The guys all threw whatever they had in their hands. In two seconds, Miles had half a sub sandwich, a book, and a remote control in his lap after they’d all bounced off his head. “Suck it, losers,” he said, grabbing the photo and uncapping a pen with his teeth.

  Matt watched as he wrote “I love you, Chris” before signing his name. He wanted to laugh so badly, but no sense in rocking the boat, especially when it wasn’t his boat.

  “Cheers, mate,” Matt said in an imitation of Miles’s English accent. “Maybe we should all go onstage and speak to the audience in Miles’s accent tonight, since everyone loves him.”

  “Great idea, sport,” Nathan said in his well-practiced takeoff of Miles.

  “For fuck’s sake, guys,” Miles protested, but barely. He was smiling at something on his phone. A little while ago he would have had his face in Matt’s face demanding an apology, but since he hooked up with one of the roadies’ sisters he’d been a pussy.

  For a minute, Matt wondered what it would be like to be so into someone else that pathetic jibes and sneers became mere smears on the windshield of life. Must be nice. Couldn’t imagine it himself, though.

  …

  Anya sat alone in the Hanging On bus trying to figure out how to charge the tablet WowSounds had sent. She’d never actually used a tablet before the previous day, so she was still a little shaky on how it all worked.

  Eventually she got
it booted up and hooked up to an outlet by the TV. She logged on to the site and opened the previous night’s blog. Holy crap. That couldn’t be right, could it? There were over a thousand comments. She paged down. Wow. There were a lot of questions. And double-wow: some people were so rude. And frightening.

  You’re a bitch, and if you lay one hand on Will Fray, I will kill you. I know where you live.

  Hah! Doubtful.

  They all have STDs. Better not touch any of them, they’re losers.

  Well, not total losers if they all got laid, she supposed.

  I’ve got a question. Ask Miles why he doesn’t reply to my letters and presents.

  Anya shuddered. She hated to think what kind of presents they got in the mail. Maybe she could ask someone and get into that for a blog post.

  Some people asked legit questions that she could pose to Will. She jotted them down in her notebook so she could ask him tomorrow. He’d probably be too tired after the show.

  An icon on the bottom toolbar was flashing. An envelope. She clicked on it and a whole email account popped up. Anya.Anderson@wowsounds.com. Cool. She had a “work” email account. She sat up straighter, suddenly feeling as if she had a real job like a real, proper adult.

  She had five emails. Four were about office stuff: keeping the photocopy room clean, a potluck lunch, a missing stapler, and the last informing everyone that the missing stapler had in fact been found “shaken, but okay.” She grinned. She didn’t know any of them, but they sounded so friendly to one another, suddenly she wanted to be part of their office family…