Still livid, I move out of the way of everyone hustling backstage and lean against the wall. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and rest my head against the concrete. Almost done. A few more shows and I’ll be on my way home to my girl.
“That’s Chaser!” Someone shrieks. “That’s him!”
The eager voices invade my moment and the corners of my mouth tip up.
I set my fury over the shitty show aside and search for the source of the chatter. A cluster of fans jump and wave from behind a short metal barricade.
The security guard who works for the venue holds one beefy arm out, keeping the fans at bay as I approach.
“Ease up. I want to say hello.”
“It’s on you, man,” he grumbles and steps back a few feet.
“I love you, Chaser!” A girl thrusts a little white notebook with pink pages in my hand. Better than the underwear I was asked to sign earlier but still kind of odd.
“Thank you for coming to see us.” I hand her the notebook and move to the next person. Quite a few people turned out for Kickstart; I spend the next twenty or so minutes signing everything from T-shirts to ticket stubs.
“You were amazing! I love you!” A girl screams in my face when I finally reach the end of the line.
“Thanks, sweetheart. What’s your name?” I ask as I scribble my signature on the liner notes from our first cassette.
“Brenda.”
“Well, Brenda, sorry the sound was so bad tonight.”
The crowd eager to see me has thinned out, most of the people moving back into the main part of the club to catch Revolver’s set. Not this one. She’s intensely focused on me.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m so happy I got to see you in person. This is just the ultimate…”
Her voice trails off and the color drains from her face. Fuck, I’m not exactly skilled in CPR if she passes out.
“Calm down. You all right?”
She nods, but her skin’s still chalky and her hands shaky. “I never expected to meet you.”
“You want to meet Jacob, too?” Girls always want to meet that little jackass.
Her hands flutter in front of her chest, drawing my attention to the Kickstart T-shirt she’s sporting. Something about it lifts the gloom the last couple days have left on me. There has always been a reason I love music that goes beyond pussy, booze, and partying.
“Can my friend Melissa come with me? She was too nervous to say hello to you.”
I flash what I’ve been told is a charming smile. “Am I that terrifying, Brenda?”
She blushes. “I don’t think so.”
I try to remain as calm and normal as possible when her friend shyly walks over, so she doesn’t freak the fuck out too.
“Enjoy the show?”
She nods.
“Looking forward to seeing Bloody Revolver, Melissa?” Yeah, Davey’s scum of the earth, but the fans don’t need to know about our personal beef.
She shakes her head. “No, we only came to see you,” she answers in a soft voice. These two don’t look like our usual fans. They’re certainly not groupies. Way too quiet and over-dressed. Probably still in high school. But they’re sweet and genuine as I talk to them about their favorite Kickstart songs.
“‘Cry it Out’ is my favorite,” the shier one says.
That’s one I wrote most of the lyrics for and I’m surprised she mentions it since we never play it live.
“I wrote that about a girl I knew in high school.” It’s basically an anti-suicide ballad. We recorded it before big power ballads were all the rage, and the suits have been after us to revamp it and re-record it, so they can exploit the shit out of it—something that pisses me off every time they float the suggestion.
She nods. “I know. I read it in an interview you did.”
Shit, that must’ve been a while ago.
Brenda takes her friend’s hand and squeezes. A dozen unspoken words seem to pass between the girls.
“I listen to it a lot,” Melissa says softly.
The undercurrent of what Melissa’s saying hits me in the gut, and I reach out to awkwardly pat her on the back.
“I’m really glad you’re here. Talking to you has been the best part of my day so far.” I’m not lying either. Everything about today sucked. Saying goodbye to Mallory. Listening to Jacob’s bullshit. Behaving myself when I want to punch Davey in the face a couple dozen more times. The craptacular show.
This moment puts it all in perspective.
The girls beam mega-watt smiles at me.
Maybe letting the suits exploit that very personal song isn’t so bad if it means it reaches more people. If it can make more girls like Melissa feel less alone.
“So, do you want to meet the rest of the guys?” I ask.
Brenda bounces on her toes and clasps her hands in front of her face in a worshipful pose. “Yes, please. Thank you so much. That would be so totally awesome.”