the
house of the arena, and Eddie gets a look at my outfit.
“Goddamn!” he cries, unabashedly, “A far cry from those
scrubs, huh?”
“Well, all my scrubs were dirty. So I had to go with this,”
I say dryly.
“You look great,” Eddie says. “Slade is going to lose his
mind.”
Usually I’d be annoyed with anyone dwelling on my looks for
this long, but the thought of Slade seeing me all dolled up gets me excited.
I’m halfway hoping that we’ll be able to meet up on our own so that we can cut
right to the chase. After that kiss, my body’s gone into Slade withdrawal. I
need my next fix soon, or I don’t know what I’ll do. As excited as I am to see
him play, I’m hoping that the show goes quickly—the sooner we’re alone
together, the better.
“Here we are,” Eddie says, halting just beyond a thick black
curtain, “I think you’ll like the view.”
He draws the curtain back, and the arena opens up before my
eyes. My jaw drops open as I take in the scope of the space from this vantage
point. There are thousands of people out there, milling and seething, waiting
to see Flagrant Disregard play. There’s an electric anticipation in the air, so
charged I can practically see it sparking through the crowd. Crew members rush
about the stage, readying instruments and microphones, making sure that
everything is just right for the band. I turn toward Eddie with an excited
smile on my face.
“This is amazing!” I cry out.
“Just wait until they start playing!” he says back.
“Are you sure it’s OK if I stay here?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says, “You’re a guest of honor tonight.”
That’s funny, considering the very dishonorable things I
plan to do with Slade as soon as he gets off the stage. I try to memorize as
much of what’s going on around me as I can. I know that I’ll want to remember
this night for the rest of my life.
“Eddie!” says a high, wispy voice behind us. I turn around
and see a tall, rail thin blonde woman grinning at the manager. She’s flanked
by two similarly built brunettes, and all three women are ignoring me pointedly.
Their tight dresses are heavily ripped, baring toned arms and flat stomachs.
Tattoos run along their limbs and backs, their hair is perfectly tousled and
messy, and their makeup is bold. They’re absolutely stunning, every single one,
and I can’t help feeling a little intimidated.
“Girls,” Eddie says, throwing his arm around the blonde
woman’s shoulders, “How are you all doing this evening? Ready for the show?”
“Always,” says once of the brunettes, whose pitch black hair
hangs in a perfectly straight wave down her back.
“How long until they start?” asks the woman with chestnut
curls.
“Any minute now,” Eddie says with a smile, “I bet they’ll be
hot tonight—it’s the last show before we officially kick off the tour!”
“Yay!” giggles the blonde woman, clapping her hands together
excitedly. The others follow suit, bopping up and down like toddlers in a
bouncy house. There’s something too perfect about the way they fawn over Eddie,
something that I don’t quite trust.
“This is Julia,” Eddie tells them, gesturing my way, “She
took care of Slade in the hospital.”
“Oh yeah,” says the blonde, “You made us wait in the lobby.”
“It’s hospital rules,” I tell her warily. I suddenly
remember her keening in the waiting room as Slade was whisked back into the
hospital. She had told me rather frankly that Slade was the next Messiah. That
level of adoration made me more than a little nervous.
“Take care of her, will you?” Eddie says to the girls, “I’ve
got to go make some calls. Arrangements for the New York show.”
“Wait—” I say, but Eddie’s already disappeared into the
darkness of the backstage world. It’s just me and the three towering beauties,
alone in the wings. The instant Eddie’s out of sight, their demeanor changes
instantly. The bubbly effervescence dies in a
house of the arena, and Eddie gets a look at my outfit.
“Goddamn!” he cries, unabashedly, “A far cry from those
scrubs, huh?”
“Well, all my scrubs were dirty. So I had to go with this,”
I say dryly.
“You look great,” Eddie says. “Slade is going to lose his
mind.”
Usually I’d be annoyed with anyone dwelling on my looks for
this long, but the thought of Slade seeing me all dolled up gets me excited.
I’m halfway hoping that we’ll be able to meet up on our own so that we can cut
right to the chase. After that kiss, my body’s gone into Slade withdrawal. I
need my next fix soon, or I don’t know what I’ll do. As excited as I am to see
him play, I’m hoping that the show goes quickly—the sooner we’re alone
together, the better.
“Here we are,” Eddie says, halting just beyond a thick black
curtain, “I think you’ll like the view.”
He draws the curtain back, and the arena opens up before my
eyes. My jaw drops open as I take in the scope of the space from this vantage
point. There are thousands of people out there, milling and seething, waiting
to see Flagrant Disregard play. There’s an electric anticipation in the air, so
charged I can practically see it sparking through the crowd. Crew members rush
about the stage, readying instruments and microphones, making sure that
everything is just right for the band. I turn toward Eddie with an excited
smile on my face.
“This is amazing!” I cry out.
“Just wait until they start playing!” he says back.
“Are you sure it’s OK if I stay here?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says, “You’re a guest of honor tonight.”
That’s funny, considering the very dishonorable things I
plan to do with Slade as soon as he gets off the stage. I try to memorize as
much of what’s going on around me as I can. I know that I’ll want to remember
this night for the rest of my life.
“Eddie!” says a high, wispy voice behind us. I turn around
and see a tall, rail thin blonde woman grinning at the manager. She’s flanked
by two similarly built brunettes, and all three women are ignoring me pointedly.
Their tight dresses are heavily ripped, baring toned arms and flat stomachs.
Tattoos run along their limbs and backs, their hair is perfectly tousled and
messy, and their makeup is bold. They’re absolutely stunning, every single one,
and I can’t help feeling a little intimidated.
“Girls,” Eddie says, throwing his arm around the blonde
woman’s shoulders, “How are you all doing this evening? Ready for the show?”
“Always,” says once of the brunettes, whose pitch black hair
hangs in a perfectly straight wave down her back.
“How long until they start?” asks the woman with chestnut
curls.
“Any minute now,” Eddie says with a smile, “I bet they’ll be
hot tonight—it’s the last show before we officially kick off the tour!”
“Yay!” giggles the blonde woman, clapping her hands together
excitedly. The others follow suit, bopping up and down like toddlers in a
bouncy house. There’s something too perfect about the way they fawn over Eddie,
something that I don’t quite trust.
“This is Julia,” Eddie tells them, gesturing my way, “She
took care of Slade in the hospital.”
“Oh yeah,” says the blonde, “You made us wait in the lobby.”
“It’s hospital rules,” I tell her warily. I suddenly
remember her keening in the waiting room as Slade was whisked back into the
hospital. She had told me rather frankly that Slade was the next Messiah. That
level of adoration made me more than a little nervous.
“Take care of her, will you?” Eddie says to the girls, “I’ve
got to go make some calls. Arrangements for the New York show.”
“Wait—” I say, but Eddie’s already disappeared into the
darkness of the backstage world. It’s just me and the three towering beauties,
alone in the wings. The instant Eddie’s out of sight, their demeanor changes
instantly. The bubbly effervescence dies in a
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