“That dress is going to be fun to peel off of you,” he breathes. I pant instantly. I run my hands along his bare arms. The door opens and all of the police officers and big men are back, standing in front of the car and making a line to the steel door a few feet from us. Jeremy hops out and pulls me with him just as quickly, and we run as fast as my 6 inch heels will allow us into the green hallway.
Immediately, Jeremy is caught in a storm of stage hands and men in business suits. They are all talking at the same time as we walk towards the stage area. There is a younger guy who walks behind me, about Jeremy’s age, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wonder who he could possibly be as we almost make it to the stage. Instead of going through the steel door that leads to the floor in front of the stage, we make a left and go up a small flight of black stairs and through a wooden do or that leads to the stage’s right wing.
Most of the stagehands scatter when we reach the stage area. The 3 men in business suits take seats in the way back of the curtain area and try to have a conversation over the deafening scream of the fans. Jeremy leans over and says into my ear, “I’ll be right back. Have a seat,” he motions towards a chair set up in the wings.
I sit in my chair but peer over my shoulder at him. He walks into a room in the very back next to where the men in the business suits are sitting . It looks like it’s probably a quick change dressing room. He’s followed by the boy in the jeans that I noticed earlier in the hallway. I already don’t like that kid. There’s something about him- he reminds me of a weasel. Maybe it’s because he’s short and has a tiny pinched face- but he seems sneaky all the same. They shut the door behind them and are in there for at least 10 minutes. When Jeremy comes out, he’s smiling and holding a beer. The boy follows out behind him, carrying a little grocery store plastic bag that’s tied at the top.
He waves to the boy and the boy turns and leaves. He makes eye contact with me and struts over to me. The fans are going wild, chanting for him and screaming. It’s almost show time and they are getting antsy. I want to ask him about the boy, but I’m still getting to know him and we’re only just dating, so I figure it’s none of my business and decide to let it go. He squats next to my chair. “You ready for this?” he yells and smiles.
I smile and nod, noting that his eyes look different. The blue looks darker somehow, and they are- what’s the word- teary? Almost like he’s going to cry, but he doesn’t seem sad. “Is everything okay?” I say, concerned.
He takes a swig from his can, downing the rest of the liquid before crumpling it in his hand. He looks down, almost guiltily. “Just nervous!” he yells, looking quickly back up at me. I chuckle but I don’t think he can hear me. I hope he doesn’t expect me to believe that a man performing since before he could talk is nervous.
A stage hand walks over with the guitar, and Jeremy stands up to receive it. He grabs gently, like it’s precious or fragile. He throws the strap over his head, letting the guitar hang in front of his exposed chest. A woman is suddenly standing behind him, trying to comb through his long hair. I look up at him, looking at the guitar shimmer in the faint light. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The woman behind him steps away, satisfied with his orderly yet messy hair. He peers down at me and gives me a wry smile. I melt.
As h e still stands next to me behind the curtain, he raises his hand and strums hard on his guitar. The sound is loud- even louder than the crowd. It makes everyone jump backstage. The crowd goes silent at first, and then collectively begins to scream. Jeremy closes his eyes again, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. He begins to strum fast on his guitar, moving his fingers along the neck extremely quickly, up and down. The sound is sultry; it sends
Immediately, Jeremy is caught in a storm of stage hands and men in business suits. They are all talking at the same time as we walk towards the stage area. There is a younger guy who walks behind me, about Jeremy’s age, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wonder who he could possibly be as we almost make it to the stage. Instead of going through the steel door that leads to the floor in front of the stage, we make a left and go up a small flight of black stairs and through a wooden do or that leads to the stage’s right wing.
Most of the stagehands scatter when we reach the stage area. The 3 men in business suits take seats in the way back of the curtain area and try to have a conversation over the deafening scream of the fans. Jeremy leans over and says into my ear, “I’ll be right back. Have a seat,” he motions towards a chair set up in the wings.
I sit in my chair but peer over my shoulder at him. He walks into a room in the very back next to where the men in the business suits are sitting . It looks like it’s probably a quick change dressing room. He’s followed by the boy in the jeans that I noticed earlier in the hallway. I already don’t like that kid. There’s something about him- he reminds me of a weasel. Maybe it’s because he’s short and has a tiny pinched face- but he seems sneaky all the same. They shut the door behind them and are in there for at least 10 minutes. When Jeremy comes out, he’s smiling and holding a beer. The boy follows out behind him, carrying a little grocery store plastic bag that’s tied at the top.
He waves to the boy and the boy turns and leaves. He makes eye contact with me and struts over to me. The fans are going wild, chanting for him and screaming. It’s almost show time and they are getting antsy. I want to ask him about the boy, but I’m still getting to know him and we’re only just dating, so I figure it’s none of my business and decide to let it go. He squats next to my chair. “You ready for this?” he yells and smiles.
I smile and nod, noting that his eyes look different. The blue looks darker somehow, and they are- what’s the word- teary? Almost like he’s going to cry, but he doesn’t seem sad. “Is everything okay?” I say, concerned.
He takes a swig from his can, downing the rest of the liquid before crumpling it in his hand. He looks down, almost guiltily. “Just nervous!” he yells, looking quickly back up at me. I chuckle but I don’t think he can hear me. I hope he doesn’t expect me to believe that a man performing since before he could talk is nervous.
A stage hand walks over with the guitar, and Jeremy stands up to receive it. He grabs gently, like it’s precious or fragile. He throws the strap over his head, letting the guitar hang in front of his exposed chest. A woman is suddenly standing behind him, trying to comb through his long hair. I look up at him, looking at the guitar shimmer in the faint light. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The woman behind him steps away, satisfied with his orderly yet messy hair. He peers down at me and gives me a wry smile. I melt.
As h e still stands next to me behind the curtain, he raises his hand and strums hard on his guitar. The sound is loud- even louder than the crowd. It makes everyone jump backstage. The crowd goes silent at first, and then collectively begins to scream. Jeremy closes his eyes again, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. He begins to strum fast on his guitar, moving his fingers along the neck extremely quickly, up and down. The sound is sultry; it sends
Similar Books
