Page 31 of Backstage

“Anyway, yes, it’s mine. Or at least one of the companies that I own,” I explain as she sits on the floor next to the table and starts pouring wine with ease. I like that straightforwardness of hers.

“You have a company?” She seems impressed, and it leaves me feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Some. You need them when you have my name, and you need to buy something the public doesn’t know about.”

She nods like it’s the most familiar explanation in the world, and I appreciate her not sticking her nose in. I sit next to her, grab the glass of wine she poured me, and take a sip, pushing the cheeseboard over to her, hoping she’ll eat some. I get the impression I’m going to spend half the weekend convincing her to eat and the other half dragging her out of the gym.

“The tour starts in a few days. Journalists will turn their attention to that, leaving us alone. We won’t have to be locked in here for eternity,” I promise, winking at her.

“This house is a palace. I could spend the next four years in here and not live in the same room for more than a week. I don’t think I’ll be bored for a while in this luxury.”

I laugh out loud at her disarming honesty. “Do you think you can handle this life?” I’m intrigued by her casual, detached attitude about certain aspects of being famous.

She smiles and puts a cracker smeared with cheese and jam in her mouth and shrugs. “I’m not famous so I don’t have to worry about these things. Now, the attention is on me because you’re here. After the tour, we’ll go back to our lives, and they’ll forget about me in a week,” she says with conviction.

I smile and nod. I can partly understand her perplexity. I too, was incredulous at first in the face of such notoriety. “After the tour, this will become your life. You will no longer be a stranger who won a competition. Thousands of people will know who you are, and whether you like it or not, this will become your normal life,” I try to explain.

She thinks about it for a few seconds biting into another cheese cracker and licking her fingers. A gesture that doesn’t escape me, makes me sweat, and fills my mind with dirty thoughts.

“Do you really think we have enough talent to sustain this career? I’ve never seriously thought about what could happen next. I try not to delude myself, keep in touch with reality. At the end of the day, my fame is due to your apparent boner in a video, not exactly material to sign with a record company.”

It’s disarming to see how much this girl has her head on straight. Most of her peers I’ve met wanted to sneak into my bed and then get a selfie and post it on Instagram to gain some fame. She’s the exact opposite, she doesn’t give a damn about my status, let alone my money, and she certainly doesn’t have much faith in her abilities.

“I know it may seem a little confusing right now because you’ve never done a concert by yourself, so it’s hard to tell who’s coming to see you. But trust me, Evan doesn’t go out of his way with just anyone. I’ve seen a lot of bands he’s launched over the years, but I’ve never seen him invest as much energy as he does with your band.”

She shrugs her shoulders and takes a sip of wine, apparently untouched by my statement.

“When did you start playing?” I ask, changing the subject a bit.

She eats another cracker and seems to ponder the answer. “I was fifteen years old; it was a bad time, and I was home a lot. Luke brought me a guitar one day, so I wouldn’t get bored, and that’s when I started. First, the guitar and then the bass, I practiced until my fingers bled every day. I was not one of those who magically becomes a perfect musician. I’m extremely stubborn. What I can do is the result of methodical commitment and dedication. That’s why I told you earlier that I don’t know how this is going to end. As much as I can work in this environment, you also need a stroke of luck, and, until now, I’ve only had one that could potentially change my life: winning your competition. So no, I don’t know how it will end.” She smiles at me and puts the glass down, and I have to make a considerable effort not to put my lips on hers. “What about you? When did you start playing?”

The question makes my stomach tighten up, and I take a sip of wine to ease the tension a little bit. “About the same age as you. I had...nothing else to do, and when the chance came up, I jumped at it.” I finish my glass and pour another one, topping up Lilly’s.

She seems to study me for a few seconds, maybe to understand if I’m lying to her, or perhaps my paranoia is more noticeable than usual. “Have you always played with the same guys, or have you had changes in the band?”

I take a deep breath in and close my eyes. That’s why I’ve never wanted a relationship with a woman: eventually, the questions end up in your past. “Always the four of us messing around! What about you, guys?”

Lilly sips and stares at me for a few moments. “We were the losers at school. No one else wanted to be around us, so yeah, always us,” she says, amused. “Apart from a couple of weeks of Jessica coming to the rehearsal room to ‘be a choir girl’ until we found out she had her eye on Martin and wanted to use a different microphone.”

I laugh, nearly spitting out my wine. “Really? And did she finally succeed?”

Lilly bursts out laughing. “Yeah. He didn’t particularly like her, but when a girl offers you your first experience with oral sex at eighteen, you’re not so picky. We spent a month with Martin in a state of constant oblivion,” she says, laughing, as we both empty our glasses of red.

“Look, if you say blowjob, I won’t yell at you,” I tease her and have fun watching her blush as I get up and go to the cellar for another bottle of Zinfandel. They call it “meditation” wine, and it helps a little with forgetting my problems, especially if I break the rules and, instead of sipping it calmly, drain one glass after another.

“I know you’re vulgar, and you don’t get upset about things like that.”

“It’s not a matter of being vulgar. It’s just that I like to call things by their names. When you approach a girl, you don’t ask her if she’d give you fellatio. You ask her for a blowjob.” I’m pouring her glass while she’s giggling, having a good time.

“When you put it like that, it makes sense. Do you have to ask that a lot?” She raises an eyebrow with a mixture of curiosity and shame. I don’t think she’s used to talking about stuff like this.

“Honestly, no. They’re usually the ones who offer it.” I hide a smile behind the glass and enjoy her big, mesmerizing eyes.

“Like what? They just come up to you and ask if they can give you a blowjob? What an incredulous question!”

I burst out laughing in the face of her embarrassment. It’s all too easy to make her blush. “No, they usually get down on their knees and unzip. It’s not like there are many conversations in those situations.”

She covers her flaming red face with one hand and holds the glass with the other. She opens his eyes again and takes a sip. “I’ll have to get used to the idea of girls doing the same thing with my bandmates, won’t I?” she asks me with a mixture of resignation and fun.

---