Rock Candy, page 3
part #1 of Dark Horse Series
My mouth went dry, and I looked around for a place to get away.
Tiffany took my arm, nudging me toward the green room door.
But Jessica was right. Of course she was. I didn't belong here. I used Tiffany's grip on my arm, pulling her back toward the big guard and the door out, where I could escape.
The men's room door opened, blocking our way.
Levi came out into the hall. His face lit up when he saw his girlfriend. Once he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her, he turned to me and Tiffany and smiled. "Glad you made it. Come on, I'll take you to Gunnar." There was nothing fake in Levi’s smile, and there was only kindness in his eyes.
I knew better than to try and clue Levi in. I'd been in high school with a few of these monsters. In front of the guys, they always acted sweet as molasses. In the locker room, they sucker punched you. Put your bra in the toilet. Poured water down your pants.
Thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t trapped in high school anymore, I put on the happiest face I could muster for Levi and pulled Tiffany along with me. "That would be great, Levi. Please do show me the way. Oh, and this is my friend Tiffany. She's using the other pass Gunnar was so nice to leave."
As soon as I said that, I knew how silly it sounded. Of course she was using the other pass Gunnar left. Get a grip, Tracy.
Levi took hold of the green room door and held it open. “I hope you enjoy the show," he said with a genuine smile for all of us.
Tiffany squeezed my arm, letting me know she had this one. "Oh yeah, we’re big fans. We'll be yelling so loud, you’ll hear us up there on stage." She laughed good naturedly as she followed Levi around the room.
It was full of hot girls in short dresses. Three quarters of the dresses were black, but there were also bright pink dresses, bright green ones, and even a neon yellow dress that looked good on the girl who wore it.
My hair was the least fussed over in the whole crowd. No, I take that back. There were a few women in jeans and T-shirts, just kicking back and enjoying themselves with hair in ponytails and very little makeup. They joked with each other and spoke animatedly.
Levi laughed at Tiffany's joke as he expertly guided us through the crowd, smiling, shaking hands, giving thumbs up, and winking at people as he went by with his and Max's girlfriends in front of him.
At least a dozen people with fancy reporter cameras flashed pictures of Levi, Jessica, and Lydia as they passed by.
From studying photos of celebrities, I knew background folks never looked at the camera. But that didn't mean I couldn't strut my stuff. I concentrated on my posture and looked everywhere except at the camera, relaxing my face the way Mom was always begging me to when she took photos. ‘Don't crinkle your forehead so much, Tracy’ she would say. ‘It makes you look worried. It’s unattractive and will give you premature wrinkles.’
Tiffany, on the other hand, smiled radiantly at every camera.
I leaned in and whispered, "You know they won’t publish the pictures with you looking into the camera, right? The only people looking into the camera should be the celebrities themselves. Everyone in the background is to look the other way. It's a thing."
Tiffany was still smiling at anyone and everyone, and she only briefly leaned in to whisper back to me, "I know, but now that we’re hanging out backstage, maybe we’ll be celebrities soon too. Won't these photos be a great find for someone when that happens?"
I rolled my eyes at her, but I couldn't help cracking up. "Wouldn't that be cool?"
She gave me her quick ‘eyebrows up-and-down’ look that meant ‘Wouldn’t it?’
We had made our way around the green room and seen everyone else except Gunnar.
Lydia squealed dutifully and ran over to Jack. The lead singer of Dark Horse held court at the bar in the corner, with a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other. He nodded at me in recognition before he took his girlfriend by the hand and rejoined his conversation.
I caught sight of Zeke, the lead guitarist, talking to a dozen mini-skirted women at the far end of the room and was surprised to share a smile with him.
At last, Levi led us over to a table where Gunnar and Brandon were sitting, studying a handwritten paper. "Gunnar, pull your head out of that new song and say hello to Tracy and Tiffany," Levi told him with exaggerated exuberance. "They came all the way here just to see you." Levi winked at us conspiratorially, then took Jessica over to stand with Lydia and Jack.
Impossibly nervous now, I regretfully waved at Levi’s retreat. Not only was I wearing the wrong dress, but Gunnar hadn't even been looking for me to come in the door. He left tickets for girls all the time. Why had I come? I was only setting myself up for disappointment. Maybe I should just go.
Gunnar’s wonderful voice boomed into my consciousness, parting all the clouds of doubt. "Tracy, Tiffany! You came!" He got up and pulled out the two other leather chairs at the table, pausing behind the second one. "Have a seat. You can help with our new song."
"Really?" Tiffany gushed as she sat down. "I love all your songs. Getting to see a new one before anybody else? Priceless!" She was so excited that she held up her hand as if Gunnar were gonna slap it.
Surprising me, Gunnar did, leaning over to reach her from where he still stood behind the empty chair. Then he turned to smile at me as I sat down, and like the perfect gentleman I'd only seen in 1940s movies, he pushed my chair in gently and with great strength.
No one had pushed my chair in for me since I was a little kid. It made me feel cherished and protected…
I can get ahead of myself. He has girls backstage with him all the time. Ever since the tour started, he’s been a celebrity, someone who belongs to everyone.
But it was hard to keep that in mind when I could feel him behind me for a moment after he pushed my chair in, hovering there. He smelled woodsy from a body wash that was just perfect for him. Masculine but not overbearing. Subtle. Sturdy. Comforting.
"Do you think that's a good idea, Tracy?" Tiffany was asking me with an edge to her voice.
"What? I asked her with irritation
She and Brandon both laughed.
Gunnar’s muscles bulged as he moved around the table to sit in the chair opposite mine. "Is what a good idea?" he asked Brandon with genuine curiosity.
Brandon gave Gunnar a knowing smile. "I was just saying to Tiffany that she and Tracy should read what we have so far and see if they have any suggestions for how we should continue."
Gunnar nodded enthusiastically, making all his gorgeous hair bounce. His slender fingers turned the paper around to face me and Tiffany. "Yeah, give it a read and let us know what you think. We don't have quite enough yet for a whole song, only half."
Brandon tsked. "Nah, Bro. This is your song. I'm only giving you feedback, just like the girls. It’s all you."
"Thanks, Bro," Gunnar told Brandon with a magnanimous gesture. "I'll help with your next one, okay?"
"Okay. Now let the ladies read. Give them a few minutes."
"You're right.” Gunnar turned his yummy blue eyes on me. “Go ahead, ladies. We’ll keep quiet.”
Brandon drummed a few beats on the table.
Gunnar scrunched down under it and tapped Brandon with his foot.
Brandon yelped, then stopped drumming and laughed. “We’ll try, anyway."
Gunnar shared a smile with Brandon, then met my eyes again and gestured round and round for us to read the paper.
I could've just stared at him all day, the man was that gorgeous.
But he was begging me to read his song, so I gave Gunnar a break. I tore my gaze away from those sincere eyes and that warm smile and looked at the lyrics a rockstar was sharing with me. Me first, before everyone else in the world. It was hard to read through the surge of absolute joy, but I managed.
The song was wonderful, all about flapping your wings and flying to freedom.
Before I could think, I asked, "How does the music go?"
He sang in sotto voice, and the three of us hunched toward him across the table so we could hear above everyone else talking and laughing.
Gunnar is the bassist, not the singer. I had heard him singing backup in a few of the songs, but until that moment, I hadn't really heard him.
His singing voice melted my insides into goo, telling me his desire to be carried away to freedom on flapping wings.
I was out of my chair and on his lap hugging him for writing something so beautiful and so moving before the general noise in the room snapped me out of it. This wasn't our private little party.
For his part, he didn’t seem to mind me being in his lap at all. He cradled me there and let me pepper his cheeks with kisses.
I say all this in hindsight, of course, when I know how ridiculous it sounds, a diner waitress in the lap of Gunnar Smith, a rockstar. At the time, I was so caught up in the giddiness of hearing the song, let alone before anyone else got to hear it. How wonderful that song is. I was just in the moment, not thinking at all.
He chuckled in his rich melodic voice with me sitting there in his lap resting against his chest. "I guess you really like the song."
"Gunnar,” I said into his chest, “it's the best song I ever heard."
He jumped a little in his seat. "Ever?"
I snuggled back into his chest, nodding. "Ever."
He rested his chin on my head. "The best song anyone ever sang to you in person, or…" His voice trailed off, plainly waiting for me to fill in the blank.
Now he was being silly, and I playfully hit his chest, hurting my hand on his solid pectoral. "The best song anyone ever sang. It's making me cry, it says it so well. That's exactly what it's like."
He leaned back in the chair, where I could see his face. "Exactly what what's like?"
I stuck my chin out at him. "You know."
He wrinkled his brow a moment, but then his face relaxed. "Of course I know. I wrote the song. But I'm curious to know what you think it’s about."
Brandon snorted.
Huh, Tiffany must have made a joke I didn’t hear.
I stopped to formulate a good answer. "What it's like to be stuck in a situation you didn't create, flapping your wings but being too young to fly. To always be dreaming of finding a way out, only you can't help but think that someone else is going to have to help you, because you're so busy just living and breathing and eating and sleeping and making money to make all that possible that you don't have any energy left."
"Wow,” Gunnar said, “I can't say I—"
Brandon cut in. "Yeah Tracy, my man Gunnar here writes some good lyrics, and most people don't understand all that deep stuff in them. But you latched right onto it. I'm impressed."
Tears streamed down my face, and I wiped them with the back of my hand while I clung to Gunnar. I was a puddle of goo, and he was the only thing holding me together.
"Do you have anything to add to that, Tiffany?" Brandon asked my friend while I sat there trying to compose myself and slowly remembered there were other people around.
Tiffany laughed. "How can I add anything to that? Tracy nailed it. Just so you know, that's exactly how I was thinking of the song, too. It's good."
“Well thanks, ladies," Brandon said to us as he got up from the table. "I can tell the two of you have given Gunnar all he needs and more to round out the rest of the lyrics." He pulled out Tiffany's chair and she stood up.
That was the only reason I got out of Gunnar's lap. I had enough sense to know that I came here with Tiffany in the same car and had to take her home.
Gunnar held me steady until I was standing on my own, then got up himself, pushing his chair in after him. "Well," he said to me in his breathy voice, "if I have any questions about how the rest of the song will go, I’ll private message you through Twitter."
I just stood there, stunned. Gunnar Smith was going to PM me?
Tiffany came over and took my arm, lending her vivacious character to my stunned numbness and making me seem less of a zombie. "I'll remind her to check her PMs. She always forgets about them. It would be a shame to keep you waiting, if you were looking for inspiration."
I squeezed Tiffany's arm and told her thanks, grateful for her help making me look like less of a bumbling moron.
A handsome gray-haired man in a sport coat came over. “Gunnar, what’s this paper you’re showing these ladies?”
“Just a song we’re working on,” Gunnar said, holding it out.
The man winced for a moment like he was in pain, but then pulled himself together and took a folded piece of paper out of the breast pocket of his sport coat. “You ladies need to sign this and put your contact info down. It says you won’t tell anyone about this song.”
I looked at Tiffany, who shrugged, then back at the man. “Okay,” we both told him, then signed the paper, putting Marge as our contact, along with the diner’s address.
The man seemed relieved as he put the paper back in his pocket, but then he turned to Gunnar and gestured at the room. “Your guests have paid for the privilege of being here, most of them." He looked at me kindly but with impatience. "You owe it to them to go visit. Let them take some selfies with you. It's part of the job." He raised his eyebrows.
After the man turned around, I whispered to Gunnar, "Is that your dad?"
Gunnar put his hands in his pockets and turned toward the rest of the people in the room, nudging me with his elbow as he did so in a subtle bid for me to stay by his side. "No, Paul's our manager. Sort of our boss."
“Oh, that’s Paul?”
“Yeah.”
I followed Gunnar into the crowd and watched with dawning understanding while he did his best to schmooze with all the strangers. It was plain from his body language that he didn't like social situations any better than I did. I felt an odd kinship with him while I watched this, and I had an urge to give him moral support, never leaving his side.
The reporters hung back and took candid photos of what went on, not making any demands nor telling him to smile or look this way. None of that.
The fans, on the other hand? Well, they were the most demanding people I'd ever seen. At best, they were taking selfies without even asking if they could. But the worst were playing grab arse like the old geezer strangers at the diner did with the waitresses.
"How can you stand it?" I asked him when we were halfway around the room and had stopped at the food table to grab slices of pizza.
He handed me a glass of beer. "It comes with the territory. And it's worth it for all I get out of this. I love performing on stage. When I'm up there and all the audience is out in the stands, they seem like one entity, you know? One giant friend I'm performing for. And when they clap and cheer for us? It's like nothing I've ever felt. A total rush of adrenaline combined with the best hug you ever had, all rolled into one."
I made a face at him over the beer. "You know I’m only 19, right?"
He scoffed. “I won’t tell if you won't."
I gave him a conspiratorial wrinkle of my nose and raised the beer to my lips. After one swallow, I couldn't help gagging and making a face.
He didn't laugh, just took the cup out of my hand and set it down on a tray on top of the stand with a bunch of other dirty glasses. "Maybe Red Bull’s more your speed." He walked me over to a big refrigerator in the corner, then opened it up and gestured for me to pick whatever I wanted.
Grinning at him ironically, I went for a tall Rockstar energy drink. I opened it up and surprised myself how thirsty I was, chugging half of it down in one go.
With a wry smirk, he grabbed a tall Red Bull, popped the tab, and gulped down half, just as I had.
With matching grins on our faces, we made the rounds together. He had an excuse now not to shake hands seeing as how he had a drink in one hand and he was holding my hand with the other. Holding my hand also had a side effect. The women no longer put their hands all over him. And they asked permission now before they took pictures with us.
I thought it a much improved situation.
A sidelong glance told me he agreed.
While he was busy, I looked for Tiffany. Not seeing her and feeling guilty for ignoring her so long, I turned around and around to try and find her so I could go and apologize for leaving her.
In my mind, Tiffany was doing just fine, chatting with a bunch of other miniskirted fans and laughing and talking as if they'd known each other for years. Typical for her. But I couldn't find her anywhere.
With growing panic in my chest, I begged Gunnar, "is there a PA system or something back here we can page Tiffany on? I don't see her."
"Yeah, it's in the office, just down the hall. I'll show you." With a reassuring grip on my hand, he led me toward the door.
Paul blocked his way. "What did I say about staying in the room and schmoozing, Gunnar? You owe it to these people. Literally."
Gunnar gently placed himself between me and Paul. “Tracy's friend is missing."
Paul didn't roll his eyes. He was to old and distinguished for that. But if he hadn't been, that's what he would've done, the look he gave Gunnar was so close to that. "I'll help Tracy find her friend. You stay here and do your job, understand?"
Gunnar put me in Paul's hands. "Paul can do a better job helping you find Tiffany, Tracy. You can trust him. He gave us a break when we were just playing our local bars. We owe all our success to him." He made a move as if to kiss me goodbye, but then thought better of it, probably because Paul was scowling at him.
Darn. I was losing out on a kiss with Gunnar because I'd turned my back on Tiffany. Served me right. Forlornly, I watched Gunnar wander away into the throng of women, who were once more squealing and grabbing at him and taking pictures without asking.
He looked miserable.
I wasn't happy about that.
"Are you sure she didn't just go to the ladies’ room?" Paul asked me with an exasperated look.
Oh yeah, Paul. “No,” I stammered, blinking in my embarrassment. "I didn’t think of that."
He tsked and gestured over to the door. "Down the hall to the right and then it's your second door on the left."
I skulked out the door and down the hall, glad to be alone with my reddening cheeks. How stupid I was being. Of course she was just in the ladies’ room.
