Page 43 of Backstage

“Maybe it’s time to reconsider your position,” he says, getting up and taking his beer with him to go sit with the others.

I look up at Lilly and my stomach tightens. Typically, I wouldn’t give a damn about her and her feelings. I’d try to get into her pants and if I couldn’t I’d change course in two seconds. I’ve always used a new girl to forget the previous one, and it works. Like every other tour, I don’t want to miss out on opportunities, but this time I don’t even want to try to replace her with someone else.

It’s been like that since those two big green eyes and that mouth, those pouty lips, came into my life. I worry about her, about what she thinks of me. I want to gravitate around her all the time like a fucking satellite, and I want to smash the face of any man who goes near her.

Luke, for example. Right now, I’d like to rip his arm off because I know he’s touching her, his arm resting across the bench behind her back. These feelings scare the hell out of me. I need to find a way out without my head and heart getting all tangled up together. My brain tells me fuck her and get over it; my heart tells me to wait until she’s ready. My heart, that asshole, doesn’t understand the concept of moving on to the next girl. It doesn’t give a fuck about what my brain is screaming.

I’m gonna finish my beer, get out of this club and go hole up on the bus, killing myself with fantasies like I’ve been doing since this tour started.

*

This morning’s wintry shower wakes me up and regenerates me for the new day. Today we’ll be on the road all day, and tonight we don’t have a show, but we’ll have to spend the whole damn time inside this bus with the Red Velvet Curtains, setting up the schedule for the upcoming festival in North Carolina. It will be the tour’s first outdoor concert, with hundreds of thousands of people, and we have to plan their debut with such a big audience flawlessly.

A festival is different from a regular show. There are a lot of bands with long careers behind them, and industry insiders who judge every move with a critical eye. It usually takes years to get on one of those stages, and they’re still too inexperienced to plan such an important show. We need to help them avoid any naive mistakes that could cost them their careers. They’re experiencing huge success as our opener, and Evan has been killing us with all this extra work because he wants to sign them to our record company. To get bigger gigs and a more significant percentage of ticket sales, they have to crush it in North Carolina—a festival of hundreds of thousands of potential fans.

Coming out of the bathroom, I hear Thomas and Simon’s voices and join them for coffee before heading upstairs to get dressed. Glancing around the living area with only a towel at my waist and my hair dripping, I freeze when I find myself in front of everyone, including Lilly. She’s looking at me with bright eyes and her mouth slightly open. Maybe coffee can wait, even if seeing her so enthralled makes my blood flow downwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you were all here already. I’m going to get dressed,” I mumble without too much conviction as I turn around and start up the stairs.

“Lilly, shut your mouth…and your legs too,” chuckles Luke, and I can’t help smiling. Luckily, she can’t see the satisfaction on my face at hearing her friend confirm my suspicions: she wants me as much as I want her.

I go back downstairs after putting on a pair of sweatpants and a white short-sleeved T-shirt. If I’m gonna be cooped up in here all day, I want to at least be comfortable. I realize I made the right choice when I find Lilly downstairs with a cup of coffee in her hands, her hair tied up in a messy bun, a pair of shorts that cling to her butt, and a worn-out white tank top through which you can see her black bra. She’s bent over with her elbows resting on the table, reading something Simon is writing on a notepad. They’re all in that position, more or less, but Lilly makes the blood in my veins rush. She turns as if she can feel my eyes on her and looks at me with that pouty mouth opened in a half-smile and those sexy glasses that short-circuit my synapses. I look away but not without seductively gazing at her lips, and licking mine, before I go to pour myself a cup of coffee.

I sit on the couch and keep an eye on what they’re writing. “Are you working on the setlist yet?” I ask, intrigued.

“No, I was showing them how the festival stages will be laid out,” our bassist says, wrinkling his forehead.

“Since when did you become the organizer of the event?” I ask, approaching.

“Since we have to wait for you to get a move on,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

I make him move over by sitting right next to him, and in front of Lilly: wrong move, her boobs are right in my line of sight. It’s going to be a very long day.

“You’ll be on stage just before us,” I explain to the group. “What do you say we do a couple of songs together, and then you get off stage? Other than ‘Jude,’ which songs of ours do you know? We rehearsed your song ‘Velvet’ the other night. How about we finish with that, and then we do our own?”

We’ve already talked to Evan about this possibility. Using our reputation to launch them would be a good publicity move for both of us. They seem to light up.

“Did you really learn ‘Velvet?’” questions Luke in disbelief.

“Of course, we learned it. We’ve listened to all your songs...” I wrinkle my forehead and look at him like it’s obvious.

“We really like the rhythm, and the lyrics are intense too. Did you all write it together?” Thomas asks.

When listened to it, we wondered if they had help because all their songs have a finished, produced quality to them.

“Luke and Lilly wrote it...like all our songs,” explains Martin.

I had no doubt Lilly had a hand in that song, especially the lyrics, but the rhythm part also has a particular flavor that says a lot about her, about her intelligence.

You leave the room, and the air goes out. You leave me here to die with my heart in a velvet box.

A jealousy grip tightens my stomach. I wish I was the one writing songs with her instead of Luke—a thought so intense and scary that I bully it out of my mind. Writing a song together requires an intimate connection with a person, a bond that goes beyond the physical relationship. It’s a process that lays bare the two souls involved, and I will never be ready to show mine to a woman, not even Lilly.

“So, let’s see this goddamn setlist? I’d like to relax a little today since we have a day off,” I say with a forced smile.

Everyone seems to sigh with relief when I pick up the notebook. I roll my eyes. Yes, I’m picky and devote perhaps too much time to work, but I’m not a slave driver. I give the people who work with me some rest.

The morning passes quickly, and we come to a decent conclusion before stopping for lunch when everyone will get off to eat and then back on their respective buses. Lilly stays behind, and as I’m about to step out of the bus, she grabs me by the arm.

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