Page 21 of Love on Tour
“My name’s not really Ralph.”
“Then why do they call you that?” Christine asked.
“’Cause he’s always ralphing up something: farts, burps, and God knows what else. He’s a one-man show,” Matt said.
“I see. Nice to meet you,” Christine said, thinking it really wasn’t.
Ralph wiggled his way between Cat and Matt, causing them to groan. The movie resumed, getting more disgusting with each segment.
When her gag reflex could no longer handle it, Christine stretched her arms, gave a fake yawn, and announced that she was going to bed. She briefly stopped in the bathroom, only went number one, brushed her teeth, and climbed into her upper bunk. She was still getting settled when Matt came in.
“You have everything you need, Christine?” His voice gave her chill bumps.
She peered out from the bunk to see him standing below her. Crazy thoughts of him jumping into the bunk with her flashed through her brain. Where had that come from? She shook her head to clear it and return to reality.
“I’m good. Feeling a little awkward, but I have everything I need.”
“I’d feel uncomfortable on a bus full of women, although they probably wouldn’t be watchingJackassmovies.”
“No. We’d be knee-deep inLove Actually,” she said.
“True confession? I love that movie. Hell, I love chick flicks. But don’t tell the guys.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
He bid her good night, and she watched him walk out the door.
The lights were off, the door was closed, and the room was pitch black. And it was cold. Christine snuggled down in the comforter, and with the road passing underneath the wheels and the bus gently rolling, she fell into a peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Christine woke and sat up, hit her head on the ceiling, and fell back to the pillow. “This is like being in a coffin,” she said to herself. She hit the overhead switch and turned on a small light, found her purse, rummaged through it, and did her best to apply a little makeup. She wasn’t a vain person in general but didn’t want raccoon eyes if she was going to run into guys first thing in the morning.
She climbed out of her bunk and joined the parade of half-awake bodies heading out of the bus. The tour buses and trucks were parked in a gated lot behind the venue. The gate had a security shack and two guards were already posted. The lot was a mini concrete city with a basketball net in one corner and a kiddie pool in the other. One of the crew guys had already set up a workout area with benches and weights. She saw two women on mats doing yoga outside one of the buses. She envied their energy and vowed, once again, to find a fitness regimen she could enjoy.
She found Matt at the security check-in. Austin was still sound asleep, so Matt led her to the “touring ladies’ dressing room.”
“You’re lucky Jackson’s tour sets aside a separate room just for the ladies. Not all of them do.”
“Then where do the women go?”
“Unisex bathrooms.”
“Ugh. No offense, but most of you guys can’t aim at all. You leave the floor filthy.”
“Yep. Guilty as charged.”
She waited for her turn to get a shower and use the facilities. One glance in the mirror told her that her makeshift makeup application had been a failure. She tried to hurry, knowing others needed to clean up, but the hot water cascading down her back and through her hair made her want to stay. She lingered a few extra minutes before drying off and dressing. Next came the hair. First, the anti-frizz gel, followed by twenty minutes with a blow dryer and fifteen minutes with a flat iron. And then a quick prayer for clear skies and low humidity. Forty-five minutes later, she emerged.
The backstage area was large and confusing. A sign said “EVERYTHING” with a finger pointing to the right. Matt had told her to meet him in Jackson Williams’s production room. If she didn’t want to get accosted by security guards, she needed credentials to walk around backstage.
After making a few wrong turns, she found it. Matt motioned with his hand for her to come in. Two long tables faced each other and six people sat around them typing on computers. Starbucks cups sat by their computers along with remnants of other vices from cigarettes to gum to Skoal. Matt introduced her to the various members of Jackson’s production staff, including the tour manager, tour coordinator, Live Nation rep, production manager, and security guards. They all looked up and greeted her with a smile.
“If there’s anything else you need, let me know. I assume Matt showed you where the ladies’ dressing room is,” Rachel, the tour coordinator, said.
“He did. Thank you. I had a nice shower.”
“It’s a perk having a ladies-only room. Anytime you need it, or anything else, please feel welcome.”
