Page 51 of Backstage

“Are we going back to the hotel? I’ve booked the venue on the 15th floor so you can relax,” Evan announces, leading us to the rear of the stage from where we then reach the backstage exit.

“Did you just say you rented a club to make us feel comfortable?” asks Taylor.

“I did,” says the manager with a grin.

“Get used to it. Sometimes you’ll regret not being able to live your life with the freedom to go and have a beer with friends without being assaulted,” Simon explains without too much bitterness in his voice.

“You can invite whoever you want, just don’t tweet to the whole continent,” Evan says. We’re watching him with awe, at least my band and me are.

“Evan, the only friends we have, are here, and our relatives think we play in a little orchestra. It’s not like we’re popular with our peers in Brooklyn. We started playing together because we were the losers in the neighborhood,” I explain to him, and the others just burst out laughing.

“Okay, I get it. It’s gonna be intimate.”

“Can we at least call the girls?” asks Martin with a smile from ear to ear.

Now Evan bursts out laughing. “Yeah, just don’t get caught by the press, or they’ll crucify you on the spot.”

“So? What am I supposed to do?” he asks, worried.

“Wait until you figure out how this world works and maybe don’t fuck up your career right from the start,” I suggest while everyone else giggles. “How the hell did you even find girls anyway? We’ve been here less than six hours!”

Martin puts his arm around me and looks at me, knowingly. “Honey, two sweet little words and mentioning the Jailbirds are enough to open doors for the whole female gender.”

“Martin, you need both of your hands,” says Simon, worried.

I take one look at Damian and see he’s looking at our guitarist like he wants to rip his arms off. I give him a sharp look: could he quit glaring at everyone who comes near me? This is getting ridiculous. I decide to torture him a bit; I pass one arm around Martin’s waist and the other around Thomas’, next to me.

“Have you decided to kill us both?” snickers the drummer from the Jailbirds.

“I don’t seem to have ‘private property’ written on me, so I don’t see what the problem is.” I smile naively.

Everyone’s laughing except Damian, who’s picking up the pace and getting on the bus like a madman.

“You’re gonna freak him out,” Thomas whispers in my ear.

I shrug my shoulders and grimace, showing fake indifference. “It’s not like he can put a chastity belt on me just because he doesn’t like anyone around me.”

The guy nods and smiles then pushes me towards my bus. “He’s finally found someone who gives him a hard time. I’ve never seen him so into a woman.”

I wish I was as sure as he is. I thought I made it very clear to him that I’m interested in him and that I’m not going from one bed to the next. This constant marking his territory all the time is excessive. Stopping me from touching my friends is ridiculous!

*

“I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll join you,” I tell the boys and take the elevator next to theirs, alone.

I haven’t even pressed the button for my floor when a male hand stops the doors and Damian enters, passing his card on the magnetic display. He grabs my wrist and pulls me close, almost making me crash into his chest.

“I gotta go take a shower,” I say.

“I have a bathroom, too.”

“I need some clean clothes.”

“I’ll lend you mine.”

I make a face and cross my arms. It’s not very mature, I know, but he’s messing me up.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who provoked me.”

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