by Amy Briggs
“Um, yeah,” I chuckled, trying to recover. I handed Miranda her tea, and she blew me a kiss, followed by a smile of gratitude. “No problem,” I told her.
“You’ve never seen the queens all dolled up yet, have you?” Leo said, with pride in his voice.
“Uh, no. No, I haven’t. Except in pictures, I guess. Seeing you girls in person is… just wow,” It was all I could muster.
“Thanks, writer,” Carmen said, going back to her drumsticks, which she was playing on her lap, her feet up on the vanity. I turned my attention back to Miranda and said quietly, “You look amazing.” I couldn’t stop the words from leaving my mouth, even though I’d tried to just think them to myself.
Looking up at me through those thick lashes, she held her tea closely and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” As I watched her mouth form the words silently, I stared at those lips again, causing my heart to beat against my chest with lust. Balling my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching out to touch her, I knew I couldn’t deny it. I was so fucked.
Finally, it was show time. I’d done my little voice warm-ups, which Carmen apparently thought was stupid, but she didn’t have to sing all fucking night. I was so excited to get on stage and officially start the tour. It was still super warm in the venue, so we’d dressed accordingly. Nobody wanted to be a gross, sweaty mess on stage, so we also had a couple mechanical fans put on stage too. It was late June, so you’d think they’d have the air cranked up a bit higher, but what can you do.
The opening acts had already finished, and we were just about ready to go on, when I pulled Carmen close, resting my forehead against hers. “Ready, sister?” I said.
“We were born for this. You’re fucking right, I’m ready,” She beamed at me.
“Alright guys, take the stage!” the stage manager called out. The band all went out, while I waited in the wings; .Not before Carmen smacked my ass with her sticks, of course. The way we did my entrance to start the first song left me waiting stage left with Ryan, who’d been quiet since he brought me tea earlier. He was such an observer, I guess that’s what makes a good writer; all that watching.
I put my earpieces in and waited for my cue as the band got situated. I listened for the excitement from the crowd, closing my eyes for a moment, feeding on their energy. As my heart rate picked up, I heard the band begin our opening song. Def Leppard was a fucking crowd pleaser, and the first few notes sent the crowd into a frenzy. I quickly glanced at Ryan, who was watching me intently, gave him a quick smile, and ran out on stage to give them what they wanted.
“How you doin’, St. Louis!” The screams as I came out on stage were my fuel. I began singing the song, holding my mic out to the audience to participate. I once read an article where Carlos Santana said that music changes your molecular structure; that it runs through your body and creates an energy that is undeniable. He was fucking right, even if he was a notorious stoner. He was spot on. I felt the vibe run through me, giving me energy that fed off my energy, and just kept increasing exponentially with each second that passed. It was hard to explain, but those moments on stage, connecting with people in the audience, were surreal.
We did a few of our original songs, I talked the audience briefly; telling a few stories about songs we’d written and that kind of thing; like most bands did. We weren’t reinventing music here; we were simply adding our little mark to music history.
About halfway through the show, we usually did our Heart tribute. The band that inspired us. Carmen and I would do our acoustic bit center stage, and then end that set with an insanely rocking version of their song “Crazy on You” that led us back into the end of the show. The acoustic set was definitely my favorite. I got to play and sing with just my sister, like we did growing up. Because most of it was super familiar songs to the audience, they’d sing along with us. Anytime the audience got involved, my heart soared.
On stage, I was free. I left my troubles, my anxieties, anything that crowded my mind, behind me. It was all about the music and the performance. Carmen and I played off each other so well, as did the rest of the band. We’d played together long enough we could communicate with just a look, in most cases, and this show went off without a hitch. I’d forgotten all about the handsome writer who’d been on my mind. I ignored the worry the letters had been causing me. It was just music. Pure rock and roll; just the way we liked it.
At the end of the show, we took our bows, said our goodbyes to the audience, and ran offstage. I was so thirsty, I took the water Travis had in hand for me like he usually did, and chugged the entire thing.
“Thanks, Trav,” I smiled.
“Anytime, Miranda,” he replied, watching me as I drank. “Do you need anything else?”
“No honey, I’m good. I’ll see you later.” I walked away, joining Carmen and the boys by the wall just offstage.
“Great show, guys,” Carmen was saying as I approached, leaning against the cool bricks.
“What she said,” I laughed. As we continued congratulating ourselves, and the high from performing started to wear off, I looked around for Ryan, who was nowhere in sight. Not wanting to seem anxious, I didn’t say anything but Carmen knew I was looking.
“He was in the audience out front,” she said nonchalantly to me.
“Who?” I replied, trying to be cool.
“Oh, okay. We’re pretending.” She rolled her eyes at me. “The writer. He was watching the show out front. And by watching the show, I mean watching you.” She gave me a sideways smirk, not awaiting my reply.
“I wasn’t looking for him,” I huffed at her, as we walked back to the dressing rooms to gather our belongings.
“Oh, okay,” she said mockingly, walking in front of me.
“I wasn’t,” I stated matter-of-factly, and probably a little defensively.
Suddenly, she stopped and turned around to face me, letting the guys pass us and get out of earshot. “Look, Miranda. I don’t really give a fuck what’s going on with you and the writer.”
“Nothing is --” I tried to reply, but she interrupted me.
“Don’t.” She held a hand up, causing me to cross my arms and roll my eyes at her. “Oh, you can roll your eyes all you want. Something is up between you two, and that’s fine, but keep your fucking head on straight. This tour is important to all of us.” Was she seriously implying that it wasn’t as important to me?
“Seriously, Carmen? You’re usually out partying half the time. You’re going to lecture me?” I was getting angry, even though she was kind of right.
“Oh, are we gonna go there? You’re always Miss Responsible, and I’m the fuck-up? Is that your defense right now?” she hissed at me, getting angrier herself. I could see her jaw clench, like she was holding back.
“What do you really want to say, Carmen? Do we really have a problem? I thought it was a great show,” I replied, softening my tone slightly, attempting to diffuse the situation.
“Honestly, Miranda, I was teasing you about the writer. You’re the one who’s lying and being defensive here, not me. Maybe if you got off your high horse for five minutes, you could enjoy yourself for a change of pace,” .She paused and looked away, as if collecting her thoughts and deciding what to say. I decided to wait to let her finish, because even though I didn’t particularly appreciate what she was saying, she didn’t really get into it with me all that often, so it was probably worth hearing her out. “You were staring at him and that hooker of a bar manager during the sound check. Don’t think I didn’t see it. And I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I don’t know what the big deal is. You’re so worried about being professional, and meanwhile, you have no fucking life, Miranda. All you do is write, sing, and plan business. That’s it. When was the last time you did something fun?”
I stood silent, not even remembering when I last let loose. Before I could make up some bullshit answer, she replied for me.
“Yeah, you can’t remember. I’m your fucking sister, your best friend. So,
don’t forget I know you. This tour is important to both of us, and to the whole fucking band, but so is having a life. Instead of fighting it every step of the way, maybe work on a little fucking balance, sister. Then I won’t have to throw drumsticks at you during sound check when some bitch is flirting with your man,” she finished, with a smug expression and arms folded over her chest, sticks in hand.
Realizing what we were doing, I started to smile, which turned into a giggle, taking Carmen off guard. “Are we really arguing about me flirting with a dude?” I started to laugh harder, recognizing that we had just had an actual argument about me getting a life.
Smiling, and softening her stance, she replied, “Well, if you got the stick out of your ass, unless that’s your thing, you could just have some fun on the side and not be so fucking distracted by not trying to have fun.”
No longer laughing and contemplating what she said I replied. “How about this,” I proposed, “I’ll consider it. The attraction to Ryan is just that - an attraction. There’s nothing going on there. He’s fucking hot, and seems cool, but we barely know him and he’s with us all summer. So, I’ll consider having some fun, but probably not with him.”
Rolling her eyes in submission, she agreed. “I don’t care who you have fun with. In fact, I don’t want to know. But for Christ’s sake, go get laid, because you make me fucking crazy. And your intensity is going to bite us all in the ass, Miranda. You’re wound fucking tight, and you need to let it out from time to time. Let off some fucking steam for Christ’s sake.” As she shifted to walk away, she said, “You know, a summer fling isn’t such a bad idea.” With that, she shrugged her shoulders at me and sauntered away, leaving me alone in the hallway to think over what she’d said, feeling conflicted.
I met with the courier to deliver the note to my guys almost immediately after Miranda went on stage. I wanted to watch the show; I hadn’t seen her perform live before, other than sound checks and run throughs, and with the way she looked, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Once I’d made the handoff, I went out to the main hall, even though I had a backstage pass giving me access wherever I wanted. Watching her in the same way her fans saw her was surreal, and incredible. She was a machine out there.
Since I was there to watch her, it was a far better view, particularly for the first show. But it also gave me the opportunity to mill about among the crowd, observing their behavior toward the band, and her. If the stalker had flowers sent here, while I didn’t think that could be traced, he certainly had an obsession with her, and could very well be following her along the tour route. Where the band was playing was obviously public information, so he could be at any venue, at any time.
It was obvious the band had been together for a long time; they communicated with nothing but glances, and they all watched Miranda for any cues. I knew their inspiration was Heart, but I hadn’t given a second thought to what that really meant until I saw the sisters perform their acoustic set, which was a full-on tribute to the band. The lead singer has a huge voice; she’s an icon and never in my wildest imagination did I think an acoustic cover set would turn out like it did. When Miranda started to sing “What About Love”, the popular rock ballad from the eighties, I got chills. It’s like when someone tells you something tastes great, and you believe them, but until you taste it yourself, and experience the flavors for yourself, you don’t totally get it. I knew she was a great singer, But in that instant, I was mesmerized. I clung to every word, every note, as if they were for me. What about love indeed.
As the show continued, I scanned the crowd constantly looking for someone that could be our stalker. From my location down front, the band could see me, and I had a pretty solid view as well. Unfortunately, nothing suspicious got my attention, and while I was distracted briefly by her performance, there only appeared to be hardcore fans there. They had a significant female following as well, which I found interesting, and at least fifty percent of the fans at the show were women, who didn’t fit our profile. Of those women that I observed, another solid seventy percent of them were with men, likely their significant others, which lowered those guy’s’ probability of being our guy too. The rest were nondescript, and not doing anything that gave any red flags, so the evening was pretty uneventful as far as protecting Miranda went.
Knowing the end of the show was coming, I headed back to the dressing room, where I expected them to head to directly. Next time, I’d make sure I was right backstage, waiting to escort them back to the dressing room or where the fuck ever. When I got to their door, neither sister was in sight; only the guys in the band were walking toward me.
“Where are the girls?” I asked Johnny.
Chuckling, he replied. “Oh, they’re having a sisterly quarrel in the hallway around the corner. I’m sure they’ll be coming shortly. What did you think of the show, man?” he asked, cheerful and unworried.
Distracted, I kept shifting my glance to the hallway, waiting for the girls. “I thought it was great. How did you feel about it? Did everything go how you expected?” I was trying to ask writer-type questions, and not be a total douche, as I checked every twelve seconds to see if the girls were coming.
Rubbing the blonde hairs on his chin, he replied thoughtfully, “Yeah, I think we hit a nice stride almost immediately. It’s like we were never on a break at all.”
“That’s great, Johnny. So, what now?”
“I think we’re headed straight to Chicago tonight for tomorrow’s show, so we’re already there. I’d check with the girls to be sure, though,” .He patted me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go call my wife from the bus. I’ll see you later, King.”
“Sounds good, bro,” I replied, turning my full attention back to the hallway, contemplating if it was time to go find them. While Miranda was my primary responsibility, Carmen didn’t really need to be wandering about alone, either.
A moment later, I saw only one sister turn the corner, not both. And it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have eyes on.
“Where’s Miranda?” I asked her, practically snapping.
“Settle down, Romeo, she’s right behind me,” she bit back.
As I turned my attention from Carmen to the empty hallway behind her, then back again, I gave her a questioning stare. As in, where the fuck is Miranda, because she’s not right behind you. She looked back at me, and then behind her as well.
“Oh my God. Would you two just fuck already and get it over with?” she exclaimed, tossing her hands in the air hopelessly. “Ugh. She’s probably around the corner. She had some stuff to think about. Go get her so we can get the fuck out of here. We’re leaving for Chicago as soon as Travis brings her guitars. It’s a four-hour drive, and we’re all sweaty and tired.”
Completely ignoring the question she’d tossed out, I just replied as calmly as possible, “I’ll go get her.” We parted ways, and I walked quickly around the corner, fear racing through my veins that she wouldn’t be there, but she was. She looked tired and confused, with a crinkled forehead, like she was trying to solve complex math problems or something.
Fucking relieved, I abruptly stopped in front of her, catching her by surprise. “Oh, Ryan! What are you doing here? What did you think of the show?” She was pretending nothing was wrong, but I could see the emotion in her rigid shoulders and insincere smile.
“Are you okay?” I ignored her questions completely.
“Huh? Yeah, of course I am. What would make you think otherwise?” She gave me a tight-lipped smile.
“Well, you did mention you’ve got a stalker today, so it doesn’t seem like a very good idea for you to be alone,” I replied. I had all kinds of things I’d lecture her about if she knew who I really was.
“Oh, I’m just walking down the hallway. I’m fine,” she stated, brushing off what I said.
Not wanting to make her mad, I decided to let it go for now, and move on from the fact she got left alone in the first place. It wouldn’t be happening again. I rubbed the hairs of my beard th
at were forming, and softened my disposition. “Alright, well how about if I stick with you on the way back,” I suggested, pretending to give her a choice in the matter.
Smiling more sincerely now, she replied, “That would be lovely, Ryan.” Stepping toward me, she nudged my shoulder. “So, did you enjoy the show?” she asked softly as we meandered down the hall together.
“I did, very much,” I replied, thinking about how much I loved watching her perform tonight. “You sounded amazing,” I added.
She gently leaned into me again as we walked, and said, “You don’t have to say that, but I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”
“I did. You looked amazing too,” I murmured, regretting it immediately. Fuck, Ryan. What are you doing?
“Thank you,” she whispered as we got to the dressing room.
“I’ll wait out here. I heard we’re going straight to Chicago tonight?”
“Yeah, it’s just easier than getting up super early and driving then,” she replied, standing in the doorway. She looked less upset than when I found her, and it seemed as though whatever she and her sister had been arguing about was passing. “I just need to make sure we didn’t forget anything,” she added as she poked around the dressing room.
“No worries, I’m on your schedule,” I chuckled.
“Yea, I guess you are,” she lightly laughed back. “Okay, they got everything. We can head out.” She shuddered slightly, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Are you cold?” I reached out and gently rubbed her shoulder, immediately regretting it, now knowing what her skin felt like under my fingers. Her soft, tattooed shoulder was freezing cold, and yet I felt my own body temperature rise the moment I touched her.
“No, no, I’m okay. Let’s just get out of here,” she said as I took my flannel off I’d been wearing over my t-shirt.
As I handed it to her, she feigned like she wasn’t going to take it, and I simply shook my head at her. “Just put it on, Miranda, don’t fight with me,” I said softly. I saw her watching my lips as I spoke, which caused hers to move along with mine just a bit. Seeing that lower lip of hers rise and fall by just millimeters churned my desire.
