Page 41 of Backstage

*

Sitting at an out-of-the-way table in the little diner where we’ve stopped, I can see why the Jailbirds chose this place: there are mainly truck drivers, and the waitresses are too old to care about getting a selfie or even use a camera phone. We’re laughing and joking at Martin’s jokes, eating scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, a breakfast that’ll get us through the night. In front of me, Luke is gorging himself as if he hasn’t eaten in ages, and on my left, Damian is sipping a black coffee as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

It’s strange how we’re all in tune with each other despite the huge differences between us. We’re the rookies, excited about everything that happens on tour; they’re the jaded veterans who’ve already seen it all and aren’t amused or impressed by any of it. This mix, however, seems to work, and the balance we’ve created is pleasant.

“You mean you didn’t bang the redhead from last night?” Damian asks Martin in disbelief, who’s telling his post-show misadventures.

Martin shakes his head while Damian casually slips his hand under the table and caresses my knee. What the hell is he doing? We’re in a public place, for crying out loud. I try to get out of the way, but his grip is firm, and he won’t let go of me, so I stop fighting him, and stay still. He loosens his grip and keeps stroking me without even looking in my direction—the asshole.

“No, I went to get something at the bar, and when I came back, she was all wrapped up with Steve, the two-hundred-year-old man who takes care of your instruments on stage,” he explains disappointedly, amid the general laughter.

Damian runs his hand along my inner thigh, lighting up parts of me that I didn’t even know were erogenous zones. I think even my kneecaps are wet.

“Steve’s handsy,” Damian says casually. “He’s been with us since the beginning of our career and, I swear to you, I’ve seen him fuck girls half his age. You had tough competition. When he decides he wants to sleep with someone, you can be sure he will.”

How the hell can he talk when he’s practically giving me an orgasm with one hand? His fingers go up my thigh, and when his little finger just grazes between my legs, I’m so sensitive I almost moan and clutch the table. I feel like screaming in pleasure. I drop my fork on the plate and, when he touches me for the second time, my right leg snaps forward and hits Luke’s shin.

“What’s the matter with you?” my friend asks me with big eyes while massaging his leg.

Everyone turns to look at me, including Damian, who looks at me with a half-amused smile on his lips. Asshole. I can feel my face flushing and on fire. I get up, and my plate almost flies off the table.

“Excuse me, I just have to go to the bathroom.”

I didn’t realize until now that I’m sitting on the inside of the bench, the one next to the wall with the window facing the parking lot. So, without moving everyone, I have to climb over the backrest with very little grace and drag myself staggering to the bathroom.

It takes me ten minutes to get back my normal heartbeat, and when I leave the stall, all my work is shattered because Damian is waiting for me with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the sink.

“What the hell are you doing in the ladies’ room?” I hiss between my teeth with my heart bouncing down my throat. I feel a rush of excitement at finding him here, with that sexy smile, and a rush of fear that someone will come in and find out.

“You’re the only woman in this place this morning. No one will complain,” he says in a deep voice that makes my legs shake.

“That’s not the point!” I’m also crossing my arms to my chest, angry or nervous, I’ve yet to figure out which.

“I came to see if you’re okay, you’ve been locked in here for ten minutes,” he says slyly.

“I’m fine!” I shuffle towards him to wash my hands.

Damian turns around, stands behind me, hugs my waist, and pushes his pelvis against my butt; then he lowers himself just enough to whisper in my ear, looking me straight in the mirror. “You’re lucky I’d never fuck you in a diner bathroom because if I did, I’d give you that orgasm right now, that one you didn’t give yourself a few minutes ago under that table.” He kisses my neck gently, just below my ear, and an explosion breaks loose in my chest. My heart is bouncing, pumping blood all over my body.

He disappears from the bathroom, leaving me panting, with an infinite number of questions and no ability to answer them, as my neurons are hostage to my hormones.

*

The show went better than last night. The fact that I didn’t have a panic attack just before going on stage made me enjoy it more than the first one. Even the tension in my stomach was almost pleasant and gave me the right charge. The astonishing thing was that the audience sang the chorus to a couple of our songs, the ones we’ve got videos of on YouTube. It was incredible.

When you’re a novice musician, you dream of the day when a whole stadium will be there to see you and sing what you wrote. Still, experiencing it on stage doesn’t even come close to what you imagined. Every emotion is a thousand times more intense. It was just a couple of choruses in the middle of the concert, but it means that people went looking for our music and listened to it enough to learn it. I admit I’ve often dreamed about that happening, but dismissed it as unfulfillable. At the moment, we still are struggling to understand how much our existence is changing.

We got so pumped during tonight’s show that, for a moment, just before leaving the stage, I thought Martin was going to smash his guitar like a big rock star. When I looked at Luke, I laughed, but his eyes were opened wide and full of terror as he shook his head “no” almost imperceptibly. When our guitarist looked down and realized it was the special guitar Evan gave him, luckily, he came to his senses.

Damian was glued to the side of the stage for the whole concert, and I had a hard time keeping my gaze from wandering in that direction. If I looked at him for too long, I would remember his kiss and the meeting in the bathroom, and I didn’t want my heart bursting out of my chest, thinking of those memories.

“I’m going to get some more bottles of water,” I say, getting up from the couch I’m sitting on in the shared room where the Jailbirds and we are relaxing. We’re waiting for Thomas and Simon to finish showering, then we’ll get back on our bus and hit the road for the next stop.

“I’ll come with you.” Damian gets up out of his chair, and the others giggle while he gives them the finger. I don’t even have the courage to look them in the face. They’ve realized there’s sexual tension between us.

As soon as we leave, he grabs me by the hand and drags me inside the first door he finds open in this maze. These arenas have a myriad of more or less large rooms located all around the main stage area. The one Damian drags me into is a grey concrete room and completely empty, large enough not to give me a panic attack. The light on the ceiling is dim, and I imagine it is used as a storage room of some kind.

I don’t have time to ask him what he’s doing. He has already pushed me against the wall with his body and is kissing me, leaving me breathless.

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