Front Row

by Rebekah N Bryan

  Most of the girls milled around Jacob and Randy, which left me free to approach Gabe. I swallowed, licked my lips, and ran my hand through the bottom of my long hair so that my curls, which were already pretty limp, lay in front of my shoulders. With one last wipe of my right hand on my skirt, I stuck it out to Gabe. "Hi, I'm Rachel."

  He shook it and glanced up at me. "I'm Gabe."

  I giggled. Of course I knew who he was. I handed him my CD cover. "Could you sign this?"

  His long fingers wrapped around my CD, and he signed it with a permanent marker in his right hand. He had a small sore on the cuticle of his right middle finger, maybe from ripping a hangnail off. Being that close, I could see his light freckles covering his face and arms—freckles that were always

  Photoshopped out of the glossy posters of him I ripped out of magazines and hung on my walls. His height was part of what made him most appealing to me. I could've worn my highest heels to stand as tall as him, but I liked feeling short for once in my flip flops. He handed the CD cover back to me.

  In a daze, I thanked him. I wanted to say something else, but some of the other fans had migrated over, and my mind had blanked. Three girls lingered around Randy, so instead I hovered behind the one girl by Jacob and waited my turn. He was the only Towner shorter than me, and only by a couple inches. His brown hair looked as if he had just woken up. As opposed to Gabe's sculpted coif, Jacob's was little longer and more haphazard. As the drummer, the wild hair seemed fitting for him.

  When it was my turn, I squeaked out the only greeting I could muster. "Hi." As his warm, brown eyes made eye contact with mine, I forgot to introduce myself. His wide, welcoming smile with his perfect white teeth made me believe we were already best of friends despite the fact that I couldn't form any words. I handed over the CD cover and willed myself to say something to solidify our best friend status. "Uh, you ready for the show tonight?" Genius. Or totally lame.

  "Yeah definitely. Here ya go." His hand brushed mine when he gave me back my CD, and it felt like electricity went straight from the side of my index finger to my heart. He smiled again, and before I had a chance to keel over and die, another fan jumped in and began talking to him. Keep it together. The hardest part was yet to come.

  For some reason, Randy had always intimidated me. Now as I shuffled a few steps left in his direction, I found myself right at his eye level. His green eyes sparkled as he talked to the last fan standing by him, and his tousled, dark brown hair hung long enough just to brush his eyes. His lovely tan skin came from his half Colombian roots, which I remembered reading about in an interview years ago in one of those teenybopper magazines. At the time, my teenage self didn't even know where Colombia was. I had used an atlas at school to look it up. Randy combed his hand through his hair to get it off of his face, and then he stuck out his hand. "Hi."

  I gave him my CD, but then I realized he was holding out his hand to shake mine. Playing it off like nothing weird had just happened, he asked for my name to write on the CD cover.

  "Uh..." Think! What is my name? Think, idiot! "Rach...Rachel."

  "Cool, excited for the show tonight?"

  "Yeah, totally." Good, something that didn't sound lame coming out of my mouth.

  "Awesome, well enjoy." He handed the CD cover back.

  "Thanks," I mumbled and backed away. I listened for a moment as some girls engaged him in a conversation about touring essentials and life on the bus. Why couldn't I have thought of those questions? Jacob stood near him a couple fans away and piped up with some knowledge as well. I realized then that Gabe was standing right next to me. There was a fan between him and Jacob, but otherwise, it was just him and me standing there apart from everyone else. Together. I racked my brain, trying to think of something interesting to say, but nothing came. Nothing genius, and nothing asinine, which I would've taken at the moment. Just blank. I turned my attention back to Randy, pretending I was listening to the conversation. The whole time, I could just feel Gabe's presence next to me. I had to do something, but before I could, Randy announced that it was time for the group picture and then they had to go.

  I stayed glued to Gabe's side as the rest of the girls assembled around their favorite Towner. A woman wielding a professional-looking camera materialized to take our picture. I gripped Gabe's waist and smiled for the camera. When I released him, I kicked myself for not noticing where his arm was. Had it been around my shoulders, around my waist, or just at his side? I hoped I'd be able to tell once we saw the picture.

  We fans all waved and said a chorus of goodbyes to the guys, and then they were gone. After that, we were told that we could go right to the stage area since the other fans were going to be let in. The room was smaller than I expected, and some of the church-like elements of the outside carried over into the concert hall in the form of a balcony that probably once held a choir. I hurried to Gabe's area right in the center between Randy's grand piano on the right and Jacob's drum set on the left. Once my spot was secured, I got on the phone to call my friends outside and give them the details about my meet-n-greet. Although I was so lucky to have just had that opportunity, I couldn't help but want more. Things could've gone better in there. I was a total loser with all three of them. I wanted another chance to not sound like the most awkward person alive.

  I heard some commotion from the back. They had opened the doors. Girls streamed in and power-walked to their desired spot. I, along with the other meet-n-greeters, braced myself and clutched the barricade in front of me. Elbows wedged between us in the front row, trying to steal our spots. I widened my stance and held my ground while I peeked over the fans' heads in search of my friends. It helped to be one of the tallest people in the crowd. I saw them claim a spot about three people back on Randy's side. When I tried to wave, a girl squeezed in on my left so that I now had to stand sideways as I held the barricade in a death grip. The show had not even started, and I was getting hot. I put my hair up in a ponytail while sticking my foot in between the bars of the barricade to hold my spot, and then I fanned myself with my hand as I shifted my weight to the other foot.

  A half hour later, the lights went down, the crowd shrieked, and the opening act walked onto stage with his head down and picked up an acoustic guitar. He spoke with an accent and seemed a little shy and not prepared for our craziness. His soothing voice and beautiful melodies appealed to me the moment he opened his mouth, but the girls around me were not quite as receptive as they became restless and gabbed to each other. I leaned against the barricade and was just thankful for some entertainment to distract me from my aching legs and overheating body. When the singer, whose name was Bjorn, announced his last song, the crowd cheered in appreciation. I glared at everyone and shot him an apologetic look that he didn't see.

  When his set ended, the crowd grew even more antsy than before. My throat was parched, my head was spinning, and I needed water; but I knew that if I left, there was no way I was getting back to my spot. I had to stick it out, at least for The Out of Towners' first song. I knelt down to give my legs a break and bumped into the girl behind me in the process. "Sorry," I called over my shoulder. I straightened back up and fanned myself again. Hoping to find a piece of gum, I dug in my purse, trying not to elbow anyone in the face in the process. I found a stray piece at the bottom and stuck it in my mouth. I checked my phone, but it was no longer getting any service.

  An excruciating hour later, the house lights dimmed again, and the crowd screamed. The guys walked out on stage from Randy's side, and I grinned in spite of my discomfort. When the rest of the crowd saw the guys, the people in back pressed up against the ones in front. I now felt the chest of the girl behind me pressed up into the middle of my back, and the smell of someone's body odor was making me nauseous. I tried to focus on Gabe, who had taken his seat on a stool and cradled his acoustic guitar on his lap. I sang along with the first song, but in the middle of it, my eyes glazed over and focused right on the front of Gabe's pants. I blinked and averted my eyes to
Jacob and Randy. To distract myself from the atmosphere down there in the pit, I tried to make eye contact with my idols, whom I had just met. Gabe didn't seem to look up as often as the other guys, but when he did, he looked right at the girl who had squeezed in to my left. When he looked away, a shove from the girl next to me almost knocked me off my feet if it hadn't been for the sardine-like quality of the crowd. Regaining my balance while apologizing for the "stupid fans" to the girl I had fallen into, I decided I had had enough. I loved these guys, but I loved living more. I pushed through the crowd, making sure my shoulder made rough contact with the pretty, short-haired blonde next to me, and got out in the open. From there, I headed straight to the bar to get myself some water.

  The cold, icy liquid had never tasted so good in my life. I felt the cold travel all the way down to my stomach. I held the cup against my forehead to cool my face down. I checked my phone and saw that I had one bar of signal, so I texted the girls to let them know I was in the back. I leaned my back against the bar and chugged the rest of my water, which wasn't much considering the cup was filled to the top with ice.

  Bjorn was alone at his merch table near the bar where I sat. After pulling my ponytail out and fluffing my hair, I made my way over. I considered beelining for the bathroom first, but my shiny face would have to do.

  "Hi! Can I get your CD? I loved your music!"

  Bjorn seemed pleased to have a customer. "Yeah, of course. Thank you."

  We exchanged money for the CD, and I unwrapped it right away and handed it back to him. "Could you sign it?"

  "Sure, what's your name?"

  "Rachel." Sure, now I remember my name.

  Bjorn signed my CD and gave it back to me. I thanked him, and with a renewed sense of enthusiasm, I plunged back into the crowd to try to locate my friends. I waded through the sea of girls, not intending to be rude, but not intending to be passive either. The closer I got to the stage, the harder it became to push past people. I reached my long arm across two rows of girls and grabbed Haley's shirt. She half turned, and pulled my arm when she saw it was me.

  "Shouldn't you be in front row?"

  "I should be, but I thought I was going to die." I held up the Bjorn CD. "I met Bjorn, though!"

  "Ah cool." Like most of the crowd, Haley was not as impressed with Bjorn as I was.

  Kim noticed my presence next. "Randy totally smiled and waved at us!"

  I gave her a thumbs up. "That's awesome! I tried to make eye contact with Gabe, but he was having none of it."

  Even though it wasn't front row, being by my friends, dancing, and singing along with them made the rest of the show far more enjoyable. My legs still ached from standing for so long, and the little bit of water couldn't save me from the dehydration headache kicking in, but my cheeks hurt from smiling.

  During the encore song, Alex faced the rest of us with a grave expression and said, "Let's go." Holding onto each other by the shirts, arms, or purses, we weaved through the crowd and out the door toward the tour bus. A dozen or so other girls had the same plan and were already standing there. "OK, so the plan is, when the bus pulls out, we're going to jump in the car and follow them to their hotel." We all nodded. "Rach, you drive."

  "I'm on it."

  Five minutes later, the show let out, and at least fifty girls joined us by the bus, awaiting the guys' exit. It wasn't long after that before all three of them came out one by one with

  Sharpies in their hands. I noticed they had all changed their shirts after the concert. Gabe was down to just a plain white T-shirt; Jacob was wearing an Out of Towners' T-shirt; Randy was in a different white T-shirt with writing on it.

  Since I already had their autographs, I armed myself with my camera and snapped shots as each of the guys made their way over to our area. Jacob signed autographs for all of my friends, and when he moved to the next group of girls, one of them asked for a hug. Darn. Missed opportunity.

  The reddish-brown haired man who led me into the meet-n-greet was standing behind them. He told Randy, who was almost to us, to wrap it up. Randy nodded but kept signing. Gabe shifted to the group of girls to our left. Cameras went off in his face, including mine and Kim's, which happened to have a strobe-like flash before it took the picture.

  "You guys need to stop taking pictures," said Gabe. "I can't see what I'm doing here."

  Just as he finished voicing his request, Kim's blinding flash illuminated his face again.

  Gabe shielded his face with his arm. "Hey, be careful, my angry southern accent may come out. Don't piss the man off, asshole." A couple girls around us giggled, including Kim, but I cowered, not wanting to be the target of his annoyance.

  Before Gabe signed any of my friends' items, he stopped short, waved to the crowd, and headed for the tour bus. I had to wonder whether it was our incessant camera flashes that made him stop where he did. Jacob followed, but Randy signed for all four of my friends and a couple fans standing to the right of our group until the meet and greet man pulled him away.

  "OK, let's go!" I did an about face and sprinted to the car.

  "I lost my shoe!" It was Kim, but I didn't stop to see if she had found it. I beat the girls to the car and plopped into the driver's seat.

  As soon as all five passengers were in the car, but before all the doors were shut, I started the car and took off after the bus. Two other cars had positioned themselves in between the bus and our car.

  As we approached a yellow light, the girls yelled, "Gun it!"

  I obeyed and blew right through the red light in order to keep up with the procession. At the next stoplight, I was not as lucky. The car in front of me stopped. I craned my neck to try to see in front of the car. "Keep an eye on where the bus goes!" A block ahead of us, the bus took a left. Once the light turned green, I hit the gas and we were on our way, but the slow fan in front delayed our pursuit. "Hurry up!" When we turned, we could still see our target, which was pulling into a hotel parking lot. I parked the car near the hotel entrance, and we all hopped out to stand on the sidewalk and wait.

  A couple members of their crew emerged first, but it took awhile for any of the guys to show themselves. The curtains of the tour bus were open, letting us indulge our voyeuristic tendencies. Gabe walked by the illuminated window holding a bag of what appeared to be M&Ms. Then Randy appeared, grabbed a tweed newsboy cap, and flipped it onto his head. He stomped down the stairs to exit the bus and headed to a side compartment outside of the bus to pull out his suitcase. Slung around his shoulders was a messenger bag, he carried a cell phone in one of his hands, and he dragged a medium-sized rolling suitcase with the other. "Looks like a party," he said as he passed us.

  "A streaking party!" said Kim, referring to a joke made during the concert.

  I waved my hands as if directing an airplane landing. "No, not a streaking party."

  "Which is it?" asked Randy.

  My knees went weak as he made eye contact with me, and I did everything in my power to hold his gaze. "Well, which do you want? Streaking or not streaking?"

  "You guys don't want to see me streak." Wrong, Randy. So wrong.

  A man from their entourage walked toward Randy in an effort to intercept us if we moved. We didn't. "I'll be right back. I gotta put my stuff inside."

  When he was inside and out of sight, I exploded with giddiness. "He's sooooo nice! He was the friendliest one in my meet-n-greet, too."

  "He's so hot, too!" said Kim.

  Alex shushed her, and we all redirected our attention to find Gabe trudging by, dragging a suitcase with his head down. "Hi guys."

  In a moment of boldness, I called after him. "Can I get a hug?"

  "Not tonight." He shook his head as he pushed through the hotel lobby door.

  He hates us. He thinks we're a bunch of Randy fans just standing around giggling and shrieking. And now I'm the annoying girl who couldn't take a hint. I slumped onto the sidewalk. I had a few more shows coming up. I hoped that he either wouldn't remember me, or that I could make
it up to him for being such a dumb fan. Expecting my would-be BFF Jacob to come out of the bus next, I stared at the illuminated window to try and get my mind off of Gabe. To all of our surprise, Randy came back out of the hotel first. The man trailed behind him.

  Randy made polite conversation and signed some autographs for the other fans that were there while the man with him tried to hurry things along. By the time he got to us, he was all but being dragged away. "Can I just shake your hand?" asked Shelly.

  He obliged, and the rest of the four of us jumped in to get a handshake after that. Then he was whisked away. I had a new appreciation for Randy. I clutched my hand. "His hand was so soft."

  "I could see the appreciation in his face when we shook hands," said Shelly. I had to agree. I didn't expect him to be so...sincere.

  With nothing left to entertain ourselves, some of the fans we didn't know approached the bus and started yelling for Jacob. I rolled my eyes. Psychos. When Jacob didn't emerge, the annoying fans got in their car to leave. Soon after, Jacob did come out, not carrying anything. He walked by us with a mischievous grin. "Ladies." Had it been physically possible to melt into a puddle right then and there, we all would've. Instead, we called it a night.

  Chapter 3: Detroit

  Our next show was in Detroit—about a two-and-a-half hour drive from Cleveland. Despite our fatigue, the first hour of driving passed in a flash with each of us reminiscing, reenacting Randy's handshake and planning the logistics for the next couple shows. Until the rain started. At first, it was just a few sprinkles; but a few miles down the road, sheets of water slapped across the windshield. I was driving, but I couldn't see the tail lights of the car ten feet in front of us. I released my white-knuckled grip on the wheel with one of my hands to rub my tired eyes.