Page 39 of Backstage

Luke approaches her and puts his hand on her shoulder. “We’re about to start,” he tells her, and she breaks away from my grip and looks her friend right in the eye.

The lights go down, and the crowd erupts in their initial roar, the one that hits you in the gut and gives you the charge you need to start the concert with a bang. It’s as though the excitement building in the audience during the hours spent waiting pours over you in the form of energy that flows through your veins. That energy lights the spark that triggers the fire you set on stage. It’s an intense connection between the fans and the band that’s fundamental to the show’s success.

Luke is a bit awkward, but he’ll recover. You can see with a bit of training that he’ll become a stage animal. Taylor hides behind his drums; he’s nervous, but in his stage position it doesn’t show too much. Martin is... Martin’s an idiot all the time, so he jumps onto the stage like he was born there. My eyes, however, fix on Lilly, who walks with her head down towards her bass, puts it on, and as soon as the song starts, looks at me and doesn’t let go for a second.

This is their most crucial test: alone, they have to warm up the audience, make them dance to their music, engage the crowd even though they’re here to see a more famous band. It’s a thankless task, challenging in many ways—making the audience like their music when very few have listened to it and it sounds unfamiliar. They have to entertain our fans, stir up their expectations for our performance. And above all, they have to pass the most unfair test: being compared to us. They should be appreciated in their own right for what they’re bringing to the stage, but our hardcore fans, here in the front rows, will be tough to convince.

I can’t take my eyes off Lilly’s. I’m afraid she might go down if I do, like I’m her source of security. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I can see the audience is involved; and from the screams coming from the crowd I can hear they’re into the music.

They don’t move around a lot on stage, but it will take several concerts before they have the confidence to use all the space available. I remember the first few times I went on a stage like this. After only playing in bars, I felt microscopic and short of breath, even just getting closer to Michael or Simon a couple of times. Thomas seemed so far away it felt like he was playing backstage.

People think the hardest thing to prepare for a tour is the music. It’s not. It’s undoubtedly a key component, but not the most important one. The most work is the physical part: building up the strength and stamina to jump, run, play, and sing on stage for two and a half hours without seeming tired. People who come to see us don’t want to see us out of breath after two songs. That’s why I insist on Lilly and her bandmates eating and training all the time. Sure, they could do cocaine, but the effect would wear off halfway through the concert, and they’d have to power through the other half on their own.

“So, you say you’re not taking her to bed.” I hear the smile in Thomas’ voice, but I don’t look at him.

“No,” I reply, focusing my gaze on Lilly.

“Then it’s even worse than I thought,” he laughs and pats me on the back.

I give him a puzzled look and then look back at Lilly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’ve been holding your breath since she went out there, and you haven’t even jerked off before the show,” he says, laughing.

I take a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and think of my friend’s words. It’s true. I’ve been so worried about Lilly and her crisis that I haven’t thought about myself.

“I wanted to make sure she didn’t fuck up the first date of the tour. It would have been a mess if she couldn’t get on stage,” I say, to minimize his point.

The conversation ends there, but my head starts to process so many questions my brain can’t contain them all. Thomas stands next to me, smiling with the awareness of someone who understands everything, and it bothers me.

*

The opening set is over, and I’m at least as excited as the guys coming offstage. They did their damn thing, didn’t mess it up, and they were fantastic. After the first song, the audience started to respond, and even starting jumping around to the music towards the end. The first few rows of spectators protested them leaving, wanting to hear more.

Luke surprised me a lot. He managed to interact and make the audience laugh with jokes between songs; it’s not easy to do with such a broad audience—you risk that awful, embarrassing silence if a joke doesn’t land. He dared and it paid off. Joking with each other was also a winning move that you don’t often see in such young and inexperienced bands. Lilly was fantastic, and from mid-concert on, she even managed to break out and have fun like she always does on stage. It’s obvious that music is her whole life.

The hustle and bustle of people backstage always psyches me up for our performance. The crew has to remove their gear and set up ours, which will take at least twenty minutes. In the meantime, the Red Velvet Curtains are coming offstage amidst the audience’s applause, and we all congratulate them. They’ve earned it, big time. Lilly runs the last few yards and, with one jump, throws her arms around my neck. It’s such a sudden gesture that for a moment she’s hanging like a monkey before I have a chance to throw my arms around her and hold her close. When she finally lets go, I put her down and she looks at me with a smile from ear to ear, eyes shining.

“Did you see that? We were great!” She looks like a little girl who just did something good and is looking for reassurance. It softens my heart instantly.

I hug her again and this time it’s me doing it, pulling her aside to stay out of the way of the crew setting up the stage. I should be with my bandmates in the dressing room for our group ritual before every concert, but I can’t get away from her. I drag her into the corner hidden behind the black boxes, push her against the wall and, without thinking twice, I kiss her, sticking my tongue in her mouth and savoring all the sweetness she can give me. At first, she’s caught off guard and stiffens against my chest, but then she kisses me back as if she had been waiting for nothing else. She slips her fingers through my hair and clings to my body while I slide my hands under her shirt, the delicacy of her skin intoxicating me, pushing me almost to the touch of her bra. I can feel her shivering under my fingers and arching her back, resting her soft breasts on my chest. I move down until my hands reach her ass, squeezing firmly and pulling her into my hard-on. I make a Titanic effort not to give in to the desire to rip her pants.

She moans against my lips, and the sound is so sensual that I grab her hair, and, with a decisive gesture, I move her head back so I can have free access to her neck. I savor every inch of her skin, from her jaw to her collarbone, and when I start to suck and bite just below her ear, her fingers cling to my hair and hold me there, still, as she pants with pleasure. I repeat the gesture once, twice, and then her lips rest on my neck, returning the favor. There is nothing left of the initial indecision. She savors my skin as if it were her property, with languid and shameless tongue strokes. When she bites my earlobe, a guttural noise comes out of my mouth. I am an animal that wants to eat its prey. With a decisive gesture, I grab her wrists and push them against the wall behind her, above her head, leaving her defenseless, in need of the contact I’ve just deprived her of. Her excitement shines in her brightly lit eyes as her chest rises and lowers quickly, the nipples poking through her bra and shirt. The sight takes my breath away.

I’m losing my mind. I need to taste her mouth again, to feel her tongue moving sinuously against mine. I want to hear her panting, moaning, and pressing against me as if we were alone in the world. But the sound of a box being moved snaps us back to reality: we’re not alone. I hate to leave her. God, how perfect she is in my arms; I rest my forehead on hers and enjoy seeing her panting. I smile slightly.

“I have to go meet the others,” I whisper reluctantly.

She nods and smiles and then stands up straight and pushes me slightly, lingering for a few moments with her hands on my chest. “Come on, hurry up, before someone thinks you’re the fugitive.”

I laugh out loud and we return to our room, walking side by side, close but never touching. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but that kiss was better than any fuck I’ve ever had before any concert. I look at her out of the corner of my eye and find her smiling. It’s not a sassy gesture, but a slight upward bend of the lips that shows she’s genuinely happy. My chest feels a rush of warmth I’ve never experienced before. Until this moment, the only thing I ever worried about was that women thought I was fantastic in bed. With her, I just need to put a smile on her lips to feel like I’ve conquered heaven.

A Beginning That Promises Fireworks...

Hi, Roadies!

Have you had the chance to attend the first concert of the Jailbirds’ tour? Absolutely spectacular. I really appreciated that they didn’t fill the stage with huge decorative sets but still made sure every detail of the show was seen even from the distant rows with giant screens. I swear, I’ve never seen such big screens, which allowed those who couldn’t afford front-row tickets to enjoy the full show. The strength and energy pulsing from every single song reached everyone in the arena. Then again, I’ve always said the Jailbirds don’t need overblown effects. Put them on stage with just their instruments, and you’ll have a fantastic show.

What about the Red Velvet Curtains? Blessed be the day the Jailbirds held that contest, for I believe they have found their worthy heirs. They were born to be on that stage. Martin, the guitarist, appears to have a special relationship with the audience, who cheered him on nonstop. Luke is the mix of sweet and sexy that every woman dreams of, with that hoarse voice of his that gives you chills. Taylor doesn’t miss a beat behind that drum set, but the real gem is Lilly. Have you heard what she can do with that bass? It’s been a lifetime since I’ve listened to technique like that from a bass player, and when she gets on stage, it’s like she’s got music in her DNA.

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