Anya and the Shy Guy (Backstage Pass)

by Suze Winegardner

  Then she clicked on the one from her editor, Cynthia Wilcox.

  Dear Mrs. Anderson,

  I hope you received your tablet—I’m guessing you did or you wouldn’t be reading this email. Your first blog post was great and garnered more page hits than we’d seen since the spate of tornados we had a couple of years ago. So as of last night, you’re my top reporter in the field! If you fill in the attached document with your bank account details, SSN etc., I can have a one hundred dollar per diem wired to your account. I will also try to come and meet you in person, either here or in New Orleans, depending on my schedule.

  Best wishes,

  Cyn.

  Bank account? Yeah right. She’d have to hope she could talk them into a check again. It had never even crossed her mind that people got paid directly into bank accounts. Mr. Patel, who owned the tiny grocery store on 15th Street, had allowed her to have her mail sent to him and had cashed the check for the homeless article. Maybe he’d let her open an account using his address.

  And then there was the whole meeting up thing. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen. She was sure Cynthia would see immediately that she was young. Like too young to be a writer or a legal employee or something. And once that happened, there would be no money. Not a per diem, whatever that was, and not a biggest-scoop-of-the-decade fee.

  She quickly Googled it. What? Per diem was an amount paid daily for expenses? Daily? One hundred dollars a day? Blood rushed away from her head and she lay back on the booth. One hundred dollars a day? If she could string out this job she might be able to save enough for a couple of months at a motel. Maybe things were looking up.

  Grabbing her notebook, she flipped to the page of Will facts. She added:

  Needle phobia—passes out!

  Alice Singleton first girlfriend

  Will and Nathan the only singles left on the tour.

  After doodling a little on the page, she shut the book and drafted her post for the evening and scheduled it to post at ten p.m. That would allow her time to change it after the show if she wanted. The show. Her mind flittered to Will, nuzzling her neck in the changing room. Holding her hand. Heat spread through her in an uncomfortable way.

  She dragged her mind back to the show. She’d have to dance. Urgh. She had no idea if she could dance, or even if she danced right. She hadn’t seen anyone dance since she was at home. And that had only been watching movies about prom. She probably still danced like a thirteen-year-old. And then she wondered what the dares were going to be. Anxiety pushed up through the layer of ease she hadn’t even noticed until now. Until it was being pushed aside.

  Well, he didn’t say she had to dance well. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another, and another…

  “Are you all right?” a voice shouted.

  Anya started and sat up, whacking her knee against the table where she’d fallen asleep. “Ow. What?”

  Natasha was swinging in the doorway, half in and half out. “Are you coming for the concert? It’s starting in a sec.”

  Anya looked out of the window. Dusk had fallen. Jeez, how long had she been asleep? “I’m up. I’m coming.”

  “I swear to God, you must be the only person here so bored that you fall asleep on a rock tour!” she said, giggling. “Come on. We won’t get pole position on the podium unless we go now.”

  “Pole what?” Anya said, half standing and then banging her head on the cabinet above the booth. “Ow.”

  “Seriously? Come on. Get it together. You weren’t in a coma.”

  She was right. She was used to going from sleep to running in a split second. She was losing her edge. Two days off the street and she was losing her ability to stay safe. “I’m coming.” She shoved the tablet into her bunk and ran down the length of the bus to Natasha. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Natasha rolled her eyes and slammed the door shut behind them. “Were you at least having a nice dream?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t even remember falling asleep.” She was so freaking busted. Never, ever would she have fallen asleep in the past without fixing her surroundings. But it did fit with her sleep schedule. On the streets, she tried to stay awake at night and sleep during the day. It was less dangerous.

  Music came from the stadium. “Did they start already?” Anya asked, picking up speed.

  “Oh no. that’s just the opening band. Sister Act. I mean, that’s not their name. They’re the ones who we avoided in the makeup trailer yesterday. Their band name is Cherry. We call them Sister Act just to piss them off. Well, to piss off the older sister, anyway. Paige. She’s a total bitch. Do not get in between her and a mirror.”

  “Huh?”

  She whispered, “We think the mirror talks to her. In a ‘find Snow White and kill her’ way.”

  They both giggled.

  “The band has several opening acts, but they’re already the most famous, so they go on just before S2J,” she explained. Natasha smoothed down her skirt as she walked. She was wearing a sparkly mini skirt and an off-the-shoulder baggy T-shirt that showed a racer-back tank underneath.

  Anya wished she’d had time to change into something more concerty. Except she didn’t really have anything more concerty. She’d amassed six outfits from stuff she’d grabbed before the bailiffs had taken everything, from homeless shelter donations, and last week she’d bought her denim skirt from a thrift store for $7.50 out of her pay for the article she wrote. It had felt impossibly extravagant at the time. Now? Maybe not.

  Well, with twenty thousand screaming fans in one arena, she was sure no one, least of all Will, would be looking at what she was wearing.

  Natasha led her through the same maze of backstage corridors Will had taken her through, and like him, she busted through the door of the catering room. She also called it the greenroom, although there was nothing green about it. Especially food-wise. It was all fried or sugary, or both. “You want something before we go up?” Natasha asked, her head already down over the buffet, filling up a shiny white plate.

  Of course she did. Crap. Again she hadn’t brought her bag to stash food. But it felt like this spread was always here. Anya took hunks of freshly baked seeded bread, knowing it would fill her up more than the chips and dip. She added slices of cheese and ham to her plate, sat on the same sofa she and Will had collapsed on, and chowed down on the huge sandwich.

  Cheering and whistles threaded their way through the stadium corridors to the greenroom. Anya looked at Natasha, wondering if they’d have time to finish their food.

  “Don’t worry. It’s Jim, one of the sound guys. They always send him onstage about twenty minutes before the guys to gauge the crowd, get them excited. All he does is check that the instruments are plugged firmly into the amplifiers. It’s the high point of his day…until this happens. Wait for it…”

  A second later, boos throbbed through the walls. Anya grinned.

  “Yup, they just realized he wasn’t one of the guys and is in fact a middle-aged man,” Natasha said with a mouth full of something.

  They fell silent as they finished eating. Natasha took her plate and chucked her a really big bottle of water. “Take it with you. It’ll be hot and sweaty out there, and you better stay hydrated or you’ll regret it.”

  “Yes, mom,” Anya said without thinking. Oh shit. What the what?

  “The nerve of you!” Natasha replied shoving her nose in the air a bit. And then she grinned. “Well someone’s got to look after the newb.” Holding the door open for Anya, she continued, “Of course, some newbs are more brattish than others.” She elbowed Anya as she passed, and Anya elbowed her back until they were both squished in the doorframe together, trying to get out.

  They giggled and pushed into the corridor.

  As the door swung behind them, a raucous thumping shook the floor and the walls around them. The audience were stomping their feet.

  “Oh hurry,” Natasha said. “They do that in time to the light display. It counts down to the band’s arrival ons
tage.” She grabbed Anya’s hand and hurried through a door and past several blackout curtains and up some metal stairs. The podium. Four people were already on it, but two of them had headphone/mikes on, so they probably weren’t there for the view. Natasha dragged her to the front of the elevated section overlooking the stage.

  Anya held on to the metal bar in front of her as the stomping feet of the crowd made the platform shake. With each stomp came a lightning flash on the stage. The lights got faster and faster until there was a loud explosion and they stayed on, sweeping the stage with bright light.

  A second later, the five guys sprung out from under the stage, literally being flung upward by some kind of mechanism. The crowd went absolutely nuts. Screaming and shouting and cheering and clapping and stomping.

  Anya couldn’t even hear the music, but as her heart thumped with every beat of the crowd, she started smiling. Then grinning, and then as the music finally made itself heard, bobbing up and down. It was like she had no control of her body. The music was louder than anything she’d heard before. The darkness of the backstage area, the heat of the lights from the stage, and the contagious emotion of the crowd… It filled her with such strange impulses.

  She wanted to cry, to dance, to jump up and down. She looked for Natasha. Her eyes were shining and she seemed about to explode just like Anya. They caught each other’s eyes and impulsively hugged, virtually levitating with happiness. It was euphoric.

  When she got a little more used to the feelings flooding through her, she searched the stage for Will. He was on the opposite side of the stage to her, in front of a static mike attached to a pole. All the guys had their left hands on their own stands and were pushing them away, toward the audience as if to get them to sing into them. They complied. Anya wished she knew the words to the songs, too. Then they stepped on the base of the mike stands to flip them back in one choreographed move that made everyone scream again.

  They were incredible. She’d literally never seen anything like it before. Not ever. She could just as well have been looking at an alien invasion, it was so new to her. As the band stomped their way across the stage in time to the music, her heart felt as if it was beating out of her chest.

  Twice Will came to the side of the stage and met her eyes, and each time a rush of exhilaration flooded through her. The grin he gave her was enough to make her want to jump off the podium and stake her claim right then and there.

  She had no words for what was happening to her, except it felt like Jude’s description of being high.

  A slow song began and the audience held their phones up and swayed them in time to the music. It was a beautiful sight, like fireflies dancing in the dark.

  Then Ryder, the one covered in tattoos, took the mike and said in a terrible British accent, “Who here wants to get wet?” Suddenly, she knew it must be the end of the show. The crowd shrieked and Anya wondered if they knew exactly what he was asking of them.

  “I can’t believe you’re not taking photos!” Natasha yelled.

  “I didn’t bring my camera,” she shouted back. Natasha was right, it was a shame.

  “Next time. Or just bring your tablet.” She made a square outline with her fingers.

  Oh. Right. It probably had a camera attached. She nodded. “Next time,” she said, turning back to the stage.

  As the opening bars to “WET” came on, a huge archway untethered from the back of the stage and slowly cruised forward, until it almost blocked her sight. She shuffled to her left so she could see better, making Natasha laugh. “So you’ve heard this is the hottest number of the show!”

  Transfixed, Anya stared at the full theatrical number she’d seen only in rehearsal. Thunder and crackling lightning came over the loudspeakers. Then lights flashed and the rain poured down on the band, soaking them instantly. Will was now second-closest to her, and she watched as he grinned with unbelievable confidence for a shy guy. Except she didn’t buy his shyness one iota. Not with the way he moved. It was like his true self was waiting inside, hidden, and he could only let it out onstage. His blue shirt was plastered to his chest as he spun, and water flew out in a circle from his hair. She gasped, and her hand flew to her chest. He looked…awesome? Sexy? Totally hot? Ahem. He looked all right.

  He caught her eye again, and she could have sworn he’d winked at her. She was light-headed with feelings she couldn’t fully find the words to explain.

  The music pulsed as they sang, kicking water into the crowd, and at one another, looking as if they were having a ball. Suddenly she wanted to be there, kicking water at them, having fun. It was hypnotic. The whole concert was hypnotic.

  The music died, and the boys left the stage, blowing kisses and bowing. She knew she had to go rewrite her post for the night. Nothing in her seventeen years had prepared her for the way she’d responded to the music, the crowd, the energy.

  “I’ve got to go back and write my blog post!” Anya shouted to Natasha.

  She shook her head. “No! You’ll miss the best bit!”

  “What best bit? It’s over,” she yelled.

  “You’re going to want to see Will now!”

  “Why? Won’t he be tired?” She frowned. She really did need to go intercept that bland post. She wondered if she’d find the words to explain how awesome the evening had been.

  “Are you kidding? He’ll be so hyped-up, you’ll probably need to keep a leash on him. They all will be. It’s fun!”

  A shot of reality oozed through her veins. Hyped-up was uncontrollable. Hyped-up was dangerous. But she wasn’t on the streets. She was safe here, surely.

  She figured she would spend maybe half an hour with him, and then she’d still have time to rewrite her post.

  …

  Post from the tour.

  I saw my first proper Seconds to Juliet show tonight. Yes, I’d seen a short rehearsal of the famous finale. Yes, I knew that the show would be sexy—it’d have to be, right? With all you ladies (and gentlemen—admit it, I saw you screaming, too) seemingly obsessed with the boys in the band. And I have to say… It was pretty good. I may have even stopped dancing for a moment just to appreciate the vision onstage. I hear they don’t do this finale, this special finale that I am duty bound not to divulge (yes, you’ll have to see it yourself if you want to be showered in the glory of S2J) in every show. So if you get to experience it, you are truly special, too.

  Meanwhile, if your name is Alice Singleton and you dated a football player in high school…I bet you’re kicking yourself right now. AmIrite?

  Chapter Nine

  Matt bounced off the stage, barely managing to stay on his feet. The buzz of adulation zinged through him like lightning through a power line.

  “Yeah!” he shouted to no one.

  “Fucking A, dude.” Miles high-fived him and totally missed, nearly smacking him in the head. They laughed like they’d just seen the funniest thing in Funnyville on national funny day.

  He’d never get tired of this feeling. The pure adrenaline rush when they came offstage.

  Ryder was punching the air, dancing like he was a prizefighter.

  “What are we going to do tonight, guys?” Nathan asked, flushed and bouncing off the walls.

  “You were so fucking good, Nath.” Matt rubbed the poor guy’s cheeks with the palms of his hands. “Hell, we were all on fire.”

  “We killed, man. It was sick!” Ryder shouted. “You even remembered the fucking words, shy guy.”

  The swearing didn’t stop until LJ came in and nodded approvingly. “Good show, boys. Good show. Now go get dry and get some sleep. I’m leaving tonight for New Orleans. I’ll see you there tomorrow evening.”

  “Night, LJ,” the guys’ voices rumbled round the room, but Matt couldn’t bring himself to be polite to him when he didn’t absolutely have to.

  They had a free night. A totally free night. Most often when they changed venues, they got on the bus immediately after the last curtain call and headed off. The Tulsa police had asked if
they could leave in the morning so they didn’t have to assign the whole night shift to making sure they got safely away. Which meant they had the whole night to make mischief, because they could sleep on the road.

  Except mischief had been pretty hard to come by since it seemed that three of the five guys only wanted to get on the phones with their significant others in the evening.

  When the phones came out, he decided to bail and look for Anya. He counted like five times she hadn’t been dancing. Maybe she hated the music, but he intended to tally those dares and use them to his advantage. Maybe to avoid questions that may out him. But hell, right now he felt like he totally had his shit together. He was one of the band. Even the other three had no idea he wasn’t Will.

  Natasha was in the corridor talking to Nick, one of the tech guys. She caught his eye and stuck out a fist. “Great show.”

  “Thanks,” he said, bumping her fist.

  “Killed,” Nick nodded.

  “Thanks, man. Hey, have either of you seen Anya?”

  “She went back to Hanging On to do something with a blog post. Save it? Stop it? Something.” She slurped on the straw in her cocktail.

  “Thanks.”

  He ran out of the arena building and back to the buses. Suddenly, he just wanted to see her, to make sure she liked the show. To see what she was writing.

  Should he be concerned about why she wanted to change a blog post? Should he take her a drink? Maybe she didn’t drink. None of them should probably drink. Maybe he should take her something else? Food? Flowers?

  Wait…what?

  Jesus—his brain was fritzing as fast as his heart was. It was the high. Will had warned him not to do anything impulsive after a show. But obviously Will didn’t understand. Matt could handle it.

  He ran into Hanging On, taking the steps in one bound, slamming the door open with such force the whole bus rocked.

  Anya was there, virtually clinging to the ceiling. As soon as the door banged, he saw that he had totally spooked her. She’d jumped up and both hands had gone around her head. She was seriously jumpy.