Page 22 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

“Yeah,” Jack said. “We really need amazing people like you to be supporting rock ‘n’ roll, especially with musical styles changing so much over the past few years.” He shook their hands again, thanking them profusely, and we left the room.

As soon as the door shut behind us, I could hear faint giggling. “Wow, those girls certainly like you,” I grinned.

Jack wrapped his arms around me and suddenly kissed me, quickly but scorchingly hot. “I didn’t notice,” he whispered, “I only have eyes for you.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” I said, as he took my hand and lead me to a door marked, ‘Band Dressing Room’.

“I’m sure that I don’t belong in the dressing room,” I said. “Isn’t that private?”

Jack grinned. “Come on, you’ll see.” He led me into a large room was filled with a dozen people, and once again, a table full of snacks, and a cooler full of drinks.

He pointed to the left. “The band has a small private area back there where we can get changed, or have some quiet time if we need it. But really we just hang out here and chill before the show.”

Jack introduced me to Marky Shadoe, the guitarist, who was bouncing around the room chatting to everyone at once. “Hey, it’s Keira, right? Your friend Sherrie is totally cool. Wow – that girl that knows a lot about music.”

“She certainly does,” I agreed. Marky nodded and was already running to the other side of the room to apparently say something important to an older, shaggy man sitting in the corner.

“He’s a little spazzy,” Jack said apologetically.

I grinned. “Those musician types, I guess.”

“That’s his guitar tech, Dan, that he’s talking to. He probably suddenly had an idea for tonight.”

He turned, and another black-clad guy was right behind him. “Hey,” he said, slapping a tall, lanky guy on the back. “This is Noodle.”

He shook my hand very seriously. “Hello. You must be Keira.”

I wondered how everyone already knew who I was, but just said, “Nice to meet you, Noodle. I bet there is a long, weird story about how you got that name.”

“It’s pretty short actually,” he said, then waved his incredibly long, slim arms in the air. They actually looked rubbery, as if they were made of elastic.

I giggled. “I get it.” He winked, then went over to help himself to a beer.

“And here’s our drummer, Tate, stuffing his face as always.” Upon hearing his name, a super fit guy busily cramming a sandwich into his mouth turned around and nodded to us. He waved to me with the carrot sticks he held in his other hand, then turned to Jack, opening his mouth wide, displaying the mush within.

“Dammit, dude, how many times?” Jack said, exasperated. Tate just grinned, puffing out his cheeks.

I tried to ignore the typical behaviour of boys being hyper and silly. “I noticed last night that he’s an amazing drummer. I guess that must take a lot of fuel.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack said, pulling us into the corner of the couch so that I was almost sitting on his lap. “He has to eat twice as much as the rest of us. When we first started touring, his mom called us every day to make sure that we were eating well. She’s a nutritionist, and was terrified that we’d all get scurvy from living on nothing but cheap pizza and burgers.”

“I see. That’s why you have to eat something green every day.”

Jack nodded, with a little grin. “She made us all promise. You can’t break a promise to somebody’s mom.”

“Fair enough.” I looked around the room again. Everyone seemed to have their own little rituals. Tate was both eating and stretching while talking with some friends, Marky was doing finger warm-ups while talking to Dan, and Noodle was sitting quietly with a beer, almost as if he were meditating.

“What’s your pre-show ritual?” I asked Jack.

“I don’t really have one,” he said. “I mean, I try to avoid loud places. It’s hard when we’re playing bars, because I have to talk to so many people, but if I’m talking over loud music it strains my voice. I stretch a little while I do my vocal warm-ups, but that’s pretty much it. I eat early so that I don’t have a full stomach on stage.”

“I guess that would make it harder to run around.”

“No,” he grinned, “Actually, it’s so that I don’t burp into the microphone. I also don’t drink anything carbonated for a few hours before we go on.”

We laughed together, as he slid an arm around me, holding me tight against his shoulder. I felt like every person in the room was very carefully not watching us, while sneaking tiny glances.

I didn’t understand the band dynamic, but I felt like I needed to make sure that these people liked me. For now, I figured I would just stay quiet and out of the way.

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