Chapter 6: Fan Addicts

Phone calls with my mother always made me a combination of angry and sad. For the next hour, I laid curled up against my travel pillow and glared at the back door. It was eerie quiet in the car after Mika finished reconstructing the phone I threw. I ran my fingers through my hair and chewed on my lip. I felt zapped of energy and I didn’t want to write anything. I was only dimly aware when we stopped moving and I was only alerted to our reason for stopping when I heard guitar riffs outside. “We’re here,” I sat up.

“Do you want to help move equipment or sign us in?” Mika questioned climbing out the back.

“I’ll sign you guys in,” I shrugged, “You did call ahead so it shouldn’t take long and I’ll have my phone so call me when you know what tent you’ll be performing in.”

“You shouldn’t go on your own,” Neill and Michael both said.

“I’ll go with her,” Deke put his arm over my shoulder, “Let’s hitch our wagon to a brighter star, Emmy.”

 

“What an excellent idea,” I pecked his cheek then once we were far enough away, “Deke, you have to tell the guys; I told you to do it before you guys left town.”

“I know, but I still don’t know how they’ll react,” he fidgeted.

“You’re more nervous than me and I have depression and a generalized anxiety disorder with a hint of social anxiety to top it off,” I took his hand, “You don’t have to be afraid of Mika, or Neill.”

“I am not afraid of them,” he leaned against me, “But the other guys might get overzealous about their opinions, especially if they’re high and Cassia is always making fun of other gay guys; I’d be a stereotype to her.”

“You’re not a stereotype,” I argued, “You’re into men and you don’t act manly to try and hide yourself; you’re just you and I adore you anyways.”

“You are the only girl who can say that without making me want to puke,” he said as we reached the sign-in desk. I put on a smile and I caught the attention of one of the men with the clipboards.

 

“Hi, I am sorry we’re running a little late,” I said politely, “We did call ahead though, we are under the name, Stolen Arrows.”

“You-tube stars,” he said having no idea how much trouble he’d be in if the band was with us. The guys hated You-tube: they were classic artists and worked hard at their music. “You look too pretty to be a groupie,” he leaned across the table, “I have never seen such lips in my lifetime.”

“I have never heard such poetry before,” I said sweetly.

“Honey, are you flirting with other men?” Deke teased.

“Oh, hush,” I laughed, “Can we have our information and three extra passes for the crew to set up?”

“Stolen Arrows,” he went through the passes, “We have you here; I hope your band is does well because I would hate for you to be sad during our drinks afterwards.”

 

“Oh really,” I remarked, “I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Soon,” he kissed my hand and handed me my folder. I nodded then headed off with Deke.

“So you’re going to hide the whole concert with your notebook then avoid him like the plague,” he guessed.

“You are very perceptive,” I commented, “When guys hit on me, you think they could be less cliché.”

“Don’t be mean,” he chuckled, “So are you still wearing science fiction and fantasy?”

“It’s my safe zone,” I reminded him.

“I always liked the stories you made up to help the guys pick up girls,” Deke ran a hand through his dark hair; “You are a classic matchmaker and a talented liar.”

 

“That is a key to writing, according to my teacher and also she was a poetry major who had prejudice against fiction writers,” I crossed my arms, “I couldn’t stand the way she talked in questions. I can imagine her asking me, so you tried to end your life? Why wouldn’t you talk to people? What hope do you have in this field?”

“You’re so harsh, Emmy,” he said, “You need to have fun on this trip, maybe you should go out with that guy.”

“I don’t think he’s my type,” I commented.

“Too predictable; too good looking,” he sighed, “Face it, you’ve only ever thought about one guy.”

“I know Deke, but your orientation has made our relationship doomed from the start,” I said dramatically.

“Not me,” he said, “Remember what I told you after you burnt up his car.”

 

“Don’t even start on him,” I ordered, “Why he’s playing nice I don’t know, but Michael gave the cold shoulder for two years after we broke up.”

“So you won’t even consider it,” he complained.

“I just want my stories and my friends,” I insisted, “I need to fix myself and I have never been good at my own romances; my history isn’t a train wreck like my mom with her six fiancés and two husbands, but a guy who dated me as a prank and Michael broke up with me via napkin.”

“Clearly there’s something wrong with you then,” he sighed.

 

“What about you? I should find you a guy,” I changed the subject.

“I can find my own men,” he said quickly. Too quickly for me, I felt suspicion creep up inside of me.

“Like who?” I questioned.

“His name is Will,” he nodded, but I still wasn’t sure.

“The guys didn’t notice that you have a guy of your own,” I asked. He gave me a look that I didn’t understand then we found the band.

“You took long enough,” Michael said storming over, “What kept you?”

“She got hit on by one of the volunteers,” Deke said proudly.

“My little sister is growing up too fast,” Neill put his hands on my shoulders, “Where did your youth go?”

 

“I am still only nineteen, big brother,” I brushed his hands off, “Here are your passes, let’s get moving.”

“We’re opening with Sparks Align,” Mika told me, “You see anyone tapping us; steal their phones and cameras discreetly.”

“Why are you guys so worried about You-tube?” Cassia handed me one of the smaller speakers.

“Maybe we should put the speaker in steadier hands,” Max observed as my hand started to shake.

“I got it,” I took another small speaker and carried them toward the red tent labelled Tent 22.

 

“You could be opening the stitches,” Cassia followed me closely; “Don’t be silly, okay.”

“I can barely feel it; besides the guys think I am broken and I hate being watched every second as they wait for the other ball to drop,” I shook my head, “They never looked at me like that before.”

“They’ll get over it,” she assured me.

“I hope so,” I headed in through the back entrance and found five other bands tuning their guitars and talking amongst each other.

 

“Have you proven your point yet?” Jed said, “Mika and Deke are planning to leave you in the car if you cannot tone down the tough girl acts.”

“I’ll work on it,” I growled, “I’m still in a mom rage so you boys better watch out.”

“I’ll let them know,” he pecked my cheek then took the speakers, “Go find a seat in the crowd; no hiding backstage.”

“My plan is thwarted,” I complained, “Why not?”

“Because the only way to combat anxiety is to fight your fears,” Mika brushed past me, “I am checking your bandages after our first performance.”

“Drama queen,” I snorted then raised my hand, “High five for good luck.”

 

“What am I five?” he remarked, but gave me anyways and his hand closed over mine, “Try not to think about the mother from hell tonight; focus on Jed and Kyle, if they fall off the stage it’ll be embarrassing.”

“Mr. Townsend, you are the definition of charming,” I told him then headed out front. I found that most of the audience for the performances were female with a few males in the crowd. Deke and Cassia stayed backstage and after the first few performances by pop and heavy metal bands, I was almost put to sleep by a lead singer with an abnormally quiet voice.

“Some people call Aleesa Monroe, a revolutionary,” the girl next to me said then turned so I got a good view of her cropped top, “The real fantasy is the next act.” On the cropped top, there was a picture of Mika’s face on it inside a broken heart.

 

“You’re a fan of Stolen Arrows,” I asked.

“Have you heard their sound before? Mika’s voice is like heaven and the band is like the calling gates to a better world,” she told me, “You’re here to see them too, right.”

“I don’t know; I hear the lead singer and the drummer aren’t that bright?” I chewed on my lip.

“That’s a joke right,” her friend said wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Jed on it, “The bass guitarist has a Greek god sculpture look to his face.”

“I hear he’s crazy about wine,” I muttered then the guys took the stage and many of the girls ran up to stand in front of the stage, but some of the girls, probably the less crazy ones stayed back. The two girls were still seated next to me, but they didn’t even take their phones out. Mika waved once before going up to his microphone.

 

“Hey everyone, I just recently reconnected with an old friend and this is for the girl who never does what she’s told,” Mika said looking right at me, “Hope you learn something here.”

“Is he talking about me?” my neighbour said excitedly, “I knew he would recognize me from all of the LA concerts.”

“He is so hot and his voice…” the girl in front of me moaned. I might be the only one here that actually liked the songs rather than the looks and tones.

 

“Red roses, violets too; I can't stand the thought of you. You’re ready at the edge of red, breaking up and getting to the end. Lost one. Sparks align, but you are gone.What happened to moving on, blue lips, pale face.” I knew what he was getting at before he sang the next part. “It was life you had to waste. Was it so bad? How did it hurt? You made mistakes then they got worse,” he continued, “Can you hear us calling you? Waking you up in the middle of the night? Remember when you would try to fight and seeing you that way would spark a fire; you’d watch it burn.” He sang about the sparks burning and basically made a list of my mistakes, including the car burning and asked me why.

 

I wondered idly why he couldn’t ask me in person and without backup. “This isn’t about me,” my fanning neighbour whined, “What about our connection?”

“He wants a real girl,” the girl in front of me said then the other girl smiled back at her.

 

“Veronica, Corra,” she said calmly and two pig-tailed girls with Mika shirts appeared behind her, “Take that one out back.”

“Oh s**t,” I sunk down in my seat.