Angie

Angie

A Short Story from the Bad Boy Rock Star Series

by

Candy J. Starr

Copyright Candy J. Starr 2014

All rights reserved

I’d like to thank Anita O’Halloran for her feedback and editing.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental

"It's actually happening!"
There was no point trying to act cool when the excitement bubbled out in my voice.

T
he VIP pass hung around my neck as the finishing touch to my outfit. Seriously, no money in the world could replace
that
as the ultimate fashion accessory in my book. It said, "look at me, I'm one of the important people". Well, I guess literally VERY IMPORTANT people. Not that I thought I was better than anyone else. Just more dedicated and hard working.

“Do I look okay? Are you sure this skirt works?”

Hannah stood by the door, shaking her keys.

“It’s fine.
You look perfect.”

“Good.
Because I want tonight to be perfect.”

See
, a few years ago, I went to a bar to see this totally unknown band play. I’d just moved to the city to start university but I spent every single night going out to see bands – famous band, has-been bands, bands playing their first gig out of their parents’ garage. After growing up in a country town where the only live music was a Country band playing covers at the local pub on a Saturday night, I had years of catching up to do and suddenly, I could see all the bands I liked. Even on a Monday night!

T
his band, this night, well, they hadn’t been so great musically. They were actually rough as guts. But the lead singer, he’d had rock star attitude. You'd have thought he was playing a freakin’ stadium the way he moved onstage – brash and cocky and full of “fuck me” vibes.

I seriously should've
gone up and talked to them after that gig. I should've offered to be their official number one fan. But instead, I hung back at the bar that night like a nervous little freak then spent weeks, months even, raving to everyone I knew about how these guys were hot shit. I raved until everyone said, "shut up, Angie" but that didn’t stop me. And who ended up being right? That would be ME.

I didn't get up the nerve to approach them until they'd gotten bigger.
Still not that big – but big in indie rock terms in this city. By that time, I was just another of the fans. I'd started a Facebook fan group and all that but it wasn't as if we hung out. It wasn't like I could call up Jack Colt on the phone and ask him if he wanted to go out for a drink or he remembered who I was from show to show. Sure, sometimes I got my name on the door for gigs and stuff but it was strictly a fan/band relationship.

Then, this totally fateful night, I
’d hung out around the band room door waiting for a glimpse of them, and this weird-arsed chick, she looked like the biggest stuck up cow you'd ever meet, like she was far too good for anyone and – well, long, long story, short, since this is my story – we're now best friends and she's their manager. I'm the social media manager myself, which is why I had the VIP pass.

And this was no normal gig
– Storm opening for Monkey Bride on the first night of their tour – this was so fucking huge. I’d imagined this from the start. It was going to be the best night of my life and that’s why the normally cool-as-fuck me was acting like a skittish schoolgirl.

"Angie, are you ready?"
Hannah tapped her foot impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.
I think. Are these shoes okay? I’ve got another pair in my bag…”

-o-

As we walked down the hall to our backstage room, I passed one of the guys from Monkey Bride. I nudged Hannah but I don't think she had any idea who he was. This place was seriously big time – it even smelt like ROCK. Well, if you figure ROCK is actually a mix of sweat and sex and duct tape and stale booze seeped into the carpet. We actually had our own backstage room, not some crappy place shared with the other bands.

Storm were on first then some crappy band that banged out shitty generic rock
– I think they were called Zombie Rock Riot – then Monkey Bride. If we were lucky, we'd get about a quarter of the crowd bothering to come early enough to actually catch Storm play, maybe a bit more since we had the home ground advantage for the first six shows. I'd got together a crew to film their performance but for the second night. Not for this show. I had to focus all my efforts on being a FAN!

After
the first week, the guys would hit the road and then Hannah and I would join them mid-tour for a few days then again near the end of the tour. Which really sucked because I wanted to do the whole join the band on tour thing but, when you are the first support band, you don't get that kind of luxury. A budget flight worked out cheaper than hotel rooms for the week and also the van they’d rented barely fit them and their gear.

We walked into the band room.
Jack Colt, lead singer and my first love, now Hannah's boyfriend, sat on a bench in front of the mirror. Shirtless. Not only did I get to have a full on perve at his chest, I got the back view too. I wasn't sure which was best, I mean, that rippling six-pack versus the curving cleft of his back. Maybe the most delicious bit of all was the jut of his hipbone just before it curved into those tight leather pants.

I felt kinda dirty and wrong actually looking at him like that because he was Hannah's but she'd said it was okay.
Every other woman in the crowd would be eye-sexing him so she had to get used to it. Anyway, it wasn't like I wanted him, I just liked looking at him.

"I have a boyfriend women want to
objectivity," she'd said and then laughed. "Which is probably a good thing or I'd be broke."

In case you didn’t know, Hannah said that because she’s Storm’s manager and not because she pimp
ed him out for dirty sex or anything weird like that.

I knew Hannah could get a bit jealous at times but she
tried to handle it. Handling it was pretty much her only alternative because Jack oozed sex out of every pore. But, while my eyes appreciated the body that was Jack Colt, all my feels were wrapped in an Eric-shaped package sitting quietly in the corner. And that was a package I was trying my darnedest not to unwrap.

Eric was as different from Jack as you could get.
For starters, his mum was Korean so that meant he had dark, dark eyes. Not just brown like Jack’s but dark eyes the colour of the richest chocolate, like a bowl of melty chocolate – sweet and warm and embracing. And, next to Jack’s hard, tattoo-covered body, Eric looked lean. Don’t let that fool you into thinking he wasn’t strong though. That body of his was all sleek, long muscles. Not that I looked. Much.

"So
, are you ready?" asked Hannah. She sat down next to Jack, and I whipped out my camera to take a photo: him leaning back with both his hands pressing on the bench behind him, flexing all the muscles of his body, her beside him, leaning in with her blonde hair flowing down. They were an incredibly good-looking couple. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear and she giggled. It seemed strange to see them so relaxed with each other and I wondered how long it would last before they had a tiff. But I looked away, not wanting to be a creeper around them being all intimate.

"Hey, Angie," said Eric, looking up at me with a shy grin.

That grin made my belly flop.

"Metal face!"

And that was the woman who made it flop back into position. The one who made me put the brakes on any feelings I had.

Eric-Mama.
She hated me. She hated my piercings and my multi-coloured hair. She hated the clothes I wore and pretty much my entire existence. She had very old-fashion Korean values and it seemed she didn’t even want to know about my insides because she thought my outsides were all wrong.

I should've
realised she was there because of all the containers of food sitting on the table. The band had been doing a pretty intense sound-checking session for the first night of the gig so she must’ve come in to feed them in their break.

That woman loved to feed people.
And it smelt so good. The smells seemed to waft from the food straight to my nostrils, reminding me it'd been an age since I'd eaten. But I'd rather starve to death than admit I wanted to eat her food. She'd probably snatch the container out of my hand before I got a chance to even sample anything.

I don’t know how she did
it but I stopped functioning like me when she was around. To be honest, she scared me quite a lot. All the fizziness inside me went flat.

She shuffled over to hug Hannah.
Hannah was her ideal person – thin, blonde, unpierced. At least she'd have to give up on the whole Eric-Hannah matchmaking now but that didn't put me any higher up the list of females she wanted to see Eric with.

What was she doing
hanging? I mean, she was Eric's mother so I guess she had a right to be there but I couldn't imagine her being a big fan of the rock.

"Jack, put some clothes on," she said.
"Don't go flaunting your man bumps around these girls!"

I tried not to crack up at that.
I had to admit she could be funny when that mouth wasn’t turned on me.

"I think they've seen it before," he said, but he reached for a t-shirt.
Of all the women in the world, Eric-Mama was the only one he obeyed. And that included Hannah.

There was someone missing from the entourage though.
Well, I wasn't missing him but he was needed for the performance.

"Where's Spud?" I asked.

Eric shrugged.

"I think he's hanging around Monkey Bride's dressing room, hoping to get some cast off groupies."

"Yes, there will be no groupies here." Eric-Mama folded her arms.

From the look on Eric's face, I could tell there was more to the story.
I guess she did have some positive points if she'd been hassling Spud and chasing off groupies.

As if he knew we were talking about him,
Spud came crashing back into the room with a big grin on his face. A grin like he was dying for someone to ask him what he'd been doing. No one asked.

"Okay, let's get a photo before you go on stage," said Eric-Mama.

She bustled everyone together.
I moved to join them.

"Not you, Metal Face," she said.
She thrust her camera at me. "You can take the photo."

Ouch.

-o-

We stood
just off to the side of the stage, waiting for the guys to go on. From there, we could peer out into the crowd. Well, by crowd I mean the four or five rows of faces clustered around the stage. The back of the venue was pretty much still empty. Storm could pull a good crowd at the venues they normally played but this place was on a whole other scale. The screams of a normal Storm crowd wouldn't even echo in this place. The guys couldn't just rely on their fans, they'd have to win over the punters there for the main event too.

I almost felt
as though I could vomit. I wanted it to go right for the guys. I wanted it so much. They'd worked so hard and they deserved to get the rewards for that hard work. If I thought this was the night of
my
life, how much more intense would it be for them?

Hannah stood beside me, clutching my arm with Eric-Mama on the other side of her.
There were industry knobs standing behind us and I noticed a few of the Monkey Bride crew had even come out to watch.

The lights went down and people yelled.

As the guys launched into their first song, my stomach settled. How could anyone not love them? People left the bars and the back of the venue to move to the stage to check them out. The buzz went through the room.

While I enjoyed the exalted position at the side of the stage, I realised it wasn't where I wanted to be.
I needed to be in the middle of it all, being part of that buzz. I was no VIP, just regular, every day Angie.

I let Hannah know what I was doing and ran off to join the
regular folk in front of the stage, singing and waving my arms in the air and joining the sweaty, screaming masses. This was how to enjoy yourself, by immersing yourself in the love, not by standing with your arms folded, looking cool.

After Storm's set, I
squirmed my way back to join Hannah, flashing my VIP tag at the bouncer, and we went to the band room to wait for the guys. Eric-Mama bustled around, packing up. I figured I should help out and started putting a lid on a container for her but she snatched it out of my hands.

“That’s the wrong lid,” she said.

Sheesh, as if it mattered. I didn’t even know why it made my stomach lump up so much when she spoke to me like that instead of just snapping back at her.

Luckily, the guys came off stage then
, so I didn’t have to put up with her laser stare drilling into me.

I moved to hug Eric and congratulate him on the show but she got in before me, wrapping her arms around his waist and saying something to him that I couldn’t hear.
I sat back on the edge of the table, wondering what to do with myself.

She said her goodbyes to the
guys and left with her chiller bag of food.

"We blew it.
We blew it so hard. I totally screwed up." Jack towelled his hair, looking totally dejected. I'd never seen him like that before, as though the arrogance had been wrung out of him. "The timing in the chorus for ‘Love All Night’ was just fucked."