by Faith Starr
Camilla reamed me for not calling the authorities, ranting on and on about how I had put both mine and Dani’s safety at risk by behaving so naively. I guess a part of me remained in denial about the band’s newfound stardom.
Camilla also wanted me to stop giving people the benefit of the doubt, saying as the band gained more recognition and steam—no pun intended—shit like this would happen more often than not, and I had to get my head out of my ass. Needless to say, she gave me a crash course in stalking.
I still gave people the benefit of the doubt. My little secret.
The result of that event was that Camilla increased security behind the scenes. Fans now went through intense safety checks before getting backstage to meet the band. We also had staff on hand in case things got ugly.
From that surprise fan experience, I learned two things. The first was that Dani and I had to move into an apartment building with better security. The second was that the guys and I had to stop being so open about our personal lives on social media.
I fluffed my pillow under my head and sank into its plush memory foam.
It felt as though I had just fallen asleep when a dirty sock smacked me in the face. The guys and I had developed this stupid ritual over the last several months on tour of waking each other up in the most obnoxious ways possible.
“What the fuck?” I peered out of one eye, the other still closed.
Trevor stood behind Logan, both of them entertained over the stupid move.
“It’s time to get up, Sleeping Beauty,” Logan advised.
I took the stinky sock, balled it up, and chucked it at his head. He caught it.
“Fuck, I think it’s time for me to send my clothes out for laundering.” He scrunched his nose and shoved the smelly white sock into his pocket.
Trevor patted him on the back. “Sounds like a good idea, bro. I didn’t want to say anything, but now that you’ve mentioned it…”
“Fuck you. I don’t hear the ladies complaining night after night when they’re sucking me off.”
On that note, I climbed out of bed. I pushed past them and headed toward the bathroom to wash up, leaving them to duke it out.
A banging on the door disrupted me. Luckily, I didn’t cut myself shaving.
“What do you want?” I called through the thin door paneling.
“We need to get ready too. Your beauty routine takes as long as a fucking woman’s!”
Just for Logan’s annoying comment, I decided to take an extra-long time finishing up. He could whine and holler outside the door all he wanted while I, on the other hand, smiled and wrapped up shaving in slow motion.
Do de do…
3
Teva
My shift ended at seven. Fortunately, one of my coworkers had agreed to come in two hours early to cover for me. I had agreed to do the same for her during our next shift together. It still only gave me about half an hour to shower and dress for the concert, so I moved at top speed.
When I exited the elevator on the floor of my apartment, a Steam song blasted in the hallway, getting louder as I approached my door. It was a wonder the neighbors weren’t complaining.
I unlocked the door and covered my ears. Anyone listening would think Lily had hearing issues. I rushed over to the Bluetooth speaker housed on the kitchen counter and lowered the volume.
“Hey, why are you turning it down? It sounded phenomenal.” Lily stepped into the living room, brush in hand, smoothing out her long brown hair.
“Because I could hear it as soon the elevator door opened.” I set my purse next to the speaker. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Well, please hurry up.” She checked out the clock on the cable box. “We have to leave in about twenty minutes. The meet and greet is before the concert.”
“I know. I know. I’ll be ready.” I strolled past her to the bathroom so I could get the show on the road.
True to my word, I finished getting dressed with two minutes to spare. I went out to the living room to see Lily wearing a Steam T-shirt about two sizes too small, low-rise short shorts that revealed her toned legs, and her prized black Converse.
She looked smoking hot, a bit slutty for my taste but sexy nonetheless. If I was a guy or swung both ways, I’d do her.
I usually wasn’t one to put my body on display. For tonight, I’d borrowed one of her Steam T-shirts, one that fit appropriately, since I didn’t own one. I had paired it with skinny jeans and black Converse too, comfortable concert-going attire.
“Let’s go! Trevor is waiting for me!” She clapped her hands excitedly, retrieved her crossbody bag, and slung it over her head, where it settled against her hip.
I pulled my keys out of my purse, figuring I would drive, since her mental state had become noticeably impaired due to her preoccupation with meeting the band’s drummer, Trevor Stone.
As soon as we got in the car, she took charge of the music situation, playing Steam’s latest download at decibels not meant for human ears.
“Please, Lily, you’re going to blow my speakers. Soon enough you’ll hear the guys live.”
“Buzzkill.”
“I get the enthusiasm, but take it down a notch.”
She behaved like an ADHD child in need of meds. She made me crazy with all her fidgeting, changing of songs during the middle of them, amplifying the volume only to lower it shortly afterward, and playing with the air-conditioning. I’d be in need of meds if she kept up this hyperactive behavior. A tranquilizer, perchance? But for me or her, I wasn’t sure.
“You are not a true fan.” She reluctantly lowered the volume.
“Obviously not. But if you want to meet Trevor in person, you’ve got to take a chill pill, so I can focus on the road and get us there safely.”
She stared out the passenger window. I had to smile. She became so sensitive when it came to this type of stuff.
The parking lot filled quickly inside the arena gates. I searched for a spot, the closest one about a mile away from the entrance. Okay, an exaggeration, but the front doors did look pretty damn far from where we parked.
“You can’t stop me now. We’re here!” She jumped out of the car, barely giving me a chance to turn off the ignition.
Rolling my eyes, I climbed out and locked the doors. She rushed to the driver’s side of the car and stood next to me, speaking a mile a minute. Shit, come to think of it, maybe I should’ve taken a Xanax or two. Her nervous energy filled me with my own, and my only reason for being at the concert in the first place was to offer her support. Not that I didn’t appreciate Steam’s music, but please, her preteen behavior required an intervention.
“We’re supposed to meet a girl named Angela in front of Section 102. She’ll be holding a sign. When I picked up the tickets at the radio station, those were the exact instructions given to me. She’ll be escorting all the winners backstage to the meet and greet.” Lily tugged my hand, walking hurriedly as she spoke.
I patted myself on the back over my decision to wear sneakers because Lily booked it to the arena entrance. I’m talking at a sprint pace. I kept up, though, panting by the time we gave our tickets to the check-in clerk. Then we had to wait in line for a purse inspection.
Once through all the security checkpoints, we zigzagged through swarms of fans in search of Section 102.
Gross! Sweaty people bumped into me left and right. Yuck. A major reason why I hated attending overcrowded events.
Almost everyone wore Steam attire of some sort: T-shirts, rubber bracelets, necklaces with charms, beanies, the whole shebang.
An immense sense of relief washed over me when we finally spotted Angela. I was getting tired of people pushing and shoving to enter the stadium. I didn’t get the mass rush to get inside, we still had plenty of time before the show even started.
Angela stood off to a corner, holding a 95.5 radio station sign. Lots of fans were bombarding her with questions, asking how they could get backstage with us. It made me feel kind of special. I never wo
n contests, and yet here Lily and I stood, waiting to check-in, along with the other overzealous winners for the sole purpose of getting the green light so we could go backstage to meet the members of a top-selling alternative band.
Angela gave me and Lily lanyards with passes attached to them. Now I really felt like a VIP, so cool.
A smaller group of gung-ho fans remained huddled around Angela, chatting animatedly and asking tons of questions. She kept reiterating that she didn’t personally know the guys of Steam, so she had no answers for them. Not that it stopped Lily from joining in on their conversations.
I leaned against a wall and checked e-mails on my phone. I hadn’t had time all day because my shift had been nonstop. I was lucky I had a fifteen-minute break for lunch. Speaking of which, hopefully I’d be able to get a bite to eat. And I wasn’t referring to the nachos or popcorn usually sold as these venues. My stomach gurgled for real food.
A beefy guy approached us, and a handsome one to boot. He spoke with Angela in private, then stood next to her.
“Okay, Steamers, are you ready to go backstage?” Angela beamed as she spoke. Maybe she too was a Steam fan.
I assumed Steamers was the name given to the band’s cult followers, me being temporarily one of them.
The small group clustered together and screamed. I squinted at their high-pitched squeals and covered my ears. Damn, the show hadn’t even started yet and the girls already went wild. I assumed this would be one of those one-hell-of-an-experience moments I’d have in my lifetime.
Eager to proceed, I stuffed my phone inside my purse.
Lily slipped her hand in mine, her palm clammy. I smiled, happy for her. I knew how much she adored Trevor Stone.
We followed Angela and the buff bouncer to a side door manned by a few security guards. Angela showed them her pass. We were all instructed to do the same. I figured the high detail was to prevent stragglers from trying to sneak in with the group.
Once inside, I breathed a sigh of relief, savoring the quiet, a total contradiction to the busy and loud arena on the other side of the metal door.
The hallway she and the he-man led us into reminded me of the hospital where I worked: white walls, somewhat of a sterile atmosphere, with the main difference being this place smelled more like sweat than antiseptic. I could almost guarantee the germ count would probably be as toxic as the odor, if not more.
Bouncer dude took the lead. A few right and left turns later, and the atmosphere changed entirely. Roadies and others were busily moving about, some engaged in loud discussions, others gathered together around equipment, playing with wires and such.
We stopped in front of a door. I became so preoccupied with the goings-on around me that I bumped into the woman standing in front of me. She spun around and glowered at me.
Jeez, take it easy, lady. It was an accident.
I put my hand up in an apologetic gesture.
Angela signaled for us to come in close and quiet down.
“I’m going to take all of you inside now. There’s a waiting room where you’ll hang out until you’re called in by name. Each pair of winners will meet the band separately. There will be absolutely no flash photography or recording of any kind permitted. The band’s photographer will take your picture with the band and post it on their website, where you’ll be able to download it in about a week’s time. If any of the band’s staff members or security team catch anyone breaking these rules, you will not only be asked to delete the photo or video, but you will also be asked to leave the arena without seeing the performance. All photos taken behind the scenes are the sole property of Steam. The band has agreed to do these meet and greets for their fans. We ask that you please respect them and their wishes.”
There were a few grunts from the crowd. Some of the fans shoved their phones inside their purses with scowls.
The bouncer guy opened the door and led us into a quaint space that resembled a living room. There were two microfiber couches with a few throw pillows as well as chairs scattered about. I wondered if this was where the band came to hang out after finishing their show.
Another Rocky-sized man guarded a different door. I’d almost bet the band stood on the other side of it.
Lily pulled me down next to her on the couch closest to the Rocky guy. She leaned in. “I’m totally freaking out right now.”
I could tell. If she squeezed my hand any tighter, I’d lose all circulation in it. As it was, tingling sensations were beginning to set in and cause numbness.
“They’re just guys. And you know what I always say about famous people?”
“Yeah, yeah. They all eat and shit alike.” She brushed me off with her hand, not wanting to hear any part of my logical reasoning. “And I’ll have you know, the members of Steam are not just guys.”
Ugh, how dare I say something so idiotic? I kept my thoughts about her irrational viewpoint silent but appreciated her passion for the band. I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut and go with the flow. But for some odd reason, I got the feeling I had a bumpy ride ahead of me.
4
Joey
Camilla clapped her hands to get our attention. “Okay, boys, it’s time to rock ‘n’ roll. After the meet and greet, proceed to the stage. On The Fence just finished. The roadies are setting up your equipment as we speak. You ready for this?”
“I’m psyched.” Trevor fist bumped the air.
“Let’s do this.” Logan joined in the enthusiasm by high-fiving Trevor.
I merely smiled. My high came from performing and from one-on-one interactions with fans. Not herding cattle in and out of a room at record speed. That’s what these meet and greets were like to me. And I fucking hated everything about them.
We began our short trek down the private hallway.
Dani caught up with us, almost out of breath. “I wanted to wish you guys a great show.”
“Thanks.” Logan moved avidly with adrenaline.
I couldn’t blame him. Trevor, Logan and I were literally born to be onstage, it was in our DNA to perform.
“Are you going to stick around after the show?”
She beamed at me, hooked her arm through my elbow, and continued to walk with us. “Since it’s our last show before taking a break, I figured I would.”
Trevor’s eyes widened after hearing her response. What the fuck was that about?
“Ready to meet some fans?” Dani’s sarcasm pissed me off. She knew how much distress these fucking meetings caused me. I’m talking high anxiety.
I swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths. No time right now to give Trevor’s sudden preoccupation with my sister any more thought.
“Funny.” I snickered at her.
“Hey, they love you. You’re a lucky guy.” Her tone became serious.
“I am lucky. You know I don’t take any of it for granted.”
“I guess it’s the whole social-anxiety thing screwing with your head, right?”
“You’re quite the comedian tonight, Dani.” I pulled her head into my chest and gave her a noogie. Logan and Trevor laughed. Camilla didn’t appear amused.
“Enough horsing around. Now come on, we’re on a strict time schedule.”
Ah, damn. Camilla sure knew how to suck the fun out of everything.
Yeah, the whole social-anxiety thing Dani mentioned. Sadly, her words held some truth to them. It had taken a toll on my nerves over the years. Crazy that a guy who suffered from panic attacks when faced with a crowd ended up being center stage every night in front of thousands of people, was interviewed by the press in every medium, and met strangers on almost a daily basis.
Back in the day, I had tried taking meds to help fix the problem, but all that did was relax my cock. Like that wasn’t an ego kill or anything. Fuck that shit. So, I swore off the psychiatrist in favor of a more behavioral approach. But no matter how many times I immersed myself in uncomfortable situations, my high level of anxiety never seemed to lessen or change.
Fortunatel
y, the guys didn’t pick up on how much this shit impacted my life. I had become a pretty good actor over the years and kept it well hidden. Dani would joke about it in front of them. I would do the same to her because she had her own anxiety to deal with. They merely took our joking as sibling teasing. But she and I knew differently. Just another reason for why I kept her on tour with me. She was my main sounding board and confidant. Basically, the only one I had.
Logan and Trevor? Sure, I regarded them as brothers. We’d been through a lifetime of events together. But certain things were better left unsaid, this being one of them.
“It’s time.” Tomas, a member of our security team, stepped into the hallway.
We took our places inside the small room where Ginger, our photographer, set up shop, the usual routine.
Dani had the list of winners for the meet and greet. She brought in the first pair, a young couple. Obviously the girl was the fan with her beau tagging along for the ride. While she asked for hugs from me and the guys, her significant other stood by with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Poor guy. I saw his jealously. He needn’t worry. The guys and I had a standing agreement: single women only.
My sister ran a tight ship and moved the rest of the lucky winners in and out with ease. They were the typical fans: best friends, couples, or mother and daughter.
Tears of joy came from a fan out in the hall. Oh Lord, what would Dani bring in next?
The last thing I expected to see walk into the room were two hotties, one a train wreck and the other composed and outwardly unfazed.
The train wreck ran straight to Trevor and wildly threw her arms around his neck. She sobbed against his chest. He jerked in surprise. Tomas intervened to stop the madness, separating the girl from Trevor.
