Rocked Down & Out (Rocked #11) (5 page)

"Wow, thanks." I fussed with the hem of my t-shirt. "You've been working so hard, I feel bad for spending most of the last day asleep."

"Don't worry about it. It's not any extra work for me. Besides, I'm happy to do it." She got up and walked around the table, then dropped into the chair next to me. "Listen, Ellie. I like you and I like working with you. It wasn't that long ago that I was an outsider here, too. It's hard, but keep doing what you're doing, being honest and being yourself. I'm confident everything will work out."

I was so touched I couldn't think of anything to say. I'd pretty much made this girl's life way more difficult and she was consoling me? Damn, she was good at her job. I could see why the guys trusted her so much, and how they could depend on her to go above and beyond the job. And, I thought, she'd have done the same even if she wasn't in love with Dex. This faithfulness and kind efficiency was part of who she was.

"Um, thank you, Becca." I patted her hand awkwardly. "Thanks a lot."

She smiled. "Don't thank me yet. We've got a really boring conference call to look forward to. You might be cursing me in a few minutes."

We shared a laugh and then got to work.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of conversations. Some of it mind-numbingly boring, just as Becca had promised, but all of it productive. By the time I got off the phone with my bosses at
HSTV
I was yearning to head to the stadium to talk to the band. Even Rick's glares sounded like fun. Anything was better than sitting in a windowless room talking into a speakerphone.

The doctor who came to my hotel room was miraculously quick and nice. She checked my vitals, wrote a prescription refill and gave me her business card after assuring me that I was, in fact, fine and cleared to work. With a promise to send that information to everyone who needed it, she left me alone.

I took a few spare minutes to pack up my stuff, since we'd be leaving town right after the show. According to Becca's magic schedule, I was riding to the next city on one of the crew buses, which I didn't mind at all. Without Steven to trade off driving and navigation duty, I wasn't looking forward to hitting the road in the middle of the night in a state I'd never been to before.

Once I had everything ready, I headed downstairs to grab a cab over to the stadium, since everyone else was already there for soundcheck. Matthew had sent me two sweet text messages and I re-read them while I waited for the one of the hotel's bellhops to hail me a ride.

By the time I got to the stadium and checked in, soundcheck was underway. I waved to some of the crew and hurried down to the front of the stage. Standing where there'd be a mob of screaming fans in a few hours, I settled my camera into its small tripod. If Steven had been with me he'd be adjusting and figuring out the perfect angle to create a "mood," but I was just happy to get the whole band in the shot.

The stage itself was massive, even in the giant void of the stadium. Lighting rigs, platforms and speakers you could climb like mountains surrounded the open center. There were huge screens covering the entire back that would alternate between pre-recorded videos and live shots of the performers. Currently the screen were showing some kind of flame-lightning combo that I thought looked more like a screensaver than a background for a rock concert, but no one asked me.

Each of the guys had their own designated area on the stage, but except for Rick at the drums, they moved around a lot. Joe liked to stalk down the extension off the front of the stage as he sang, a sort of shallow ramp that allowed him to stand within but above the crowd. For the moment they were all in their normal places, running through a hard driving song while a new kaleidoscope-like lighting effect I didn't remember seeing before played across the stage in time with the music. Or, almost with the music. Something was a little off and the guys clearly noticed.

Joe had stopped singing and was conferring with Dex and the control room about something I couldn't hear. Rick was tapping out an impatient beat on his drums while Matthew fiddled with the strings of his guitar. He had a strange expression on his face, almost like he was trying to hide pain, but it passed quickly and I reminded myself I was working. It wasn't the time to be obsessing over him. Whatever was happening between us was wonderful, but I couldn't let it affect my job. Especially now.

I grabbed my notebook and jotted down something I could use as voiceover for this footage. My bosses had agreed that I should keep it simple while I was without a camera operator, and still getting back in the good graces of the band. Or at least trying to.

After a few seconds a voice came over the loudspeaker and everyone stopped what they were doing. All four members of the band headed to the right side of the stage and a man I didn't recognize joined them. They talked animatedly for a while and I noted down that the creative process never stopped, even right before the show. I'd say something about how the band worked their asses off to make sure their fans got the best show possible. Of course, I had no idea what their little meeting was actually about. For all I knew the stranger was getting beer and pizza orders. But regardless, the script I was writing was true. For all the drama around and between the men of Dream Defiled, on stage they were perfection. In perfect harmony with each other musically. It was part of the secret of their success. That and their ability to write awesome party rock songs that felt anthemic from the first time you heard them. That each member was smoking hot in their own different way and they tended to play shirtless didn't hurt either.

After the stage chat broke up, the guys headed back to their positions and finished running through the setlist for the show. They didn't play all of every song, just the beginnings, endings, transitions and sections that had to sync up with the pyrotechnics and some moving set pieces.

When they finished, the four of them stood together in the center of the stage and talked some more. I shut off my camera and headed around to go backstage. It was the normal controlled chaos back there with assistants rushing around carrying drinks and food, wardrobe people lining up extra shirts, pants and towels on racks labeled with each guy's name. I dimly recalled Dex mentioning that he split his pants in the middle of a show once and had to back offstage to keep from mooning the whole club. I made a note to ask him to tell me the story on camera, knowing it would be gold for the viewers. Because it was relatable, rockstars are just like us but rich, talented and ridiculously good looking, and
any
mention of his bare ass would certainly excite a large section of their fans.

Smiling to myself, I kept shooting while trying not to get in anyone's way. The guys came offstage, engaged in some kind of heated conversation about laser lights. I turned off my camera again and went in search of Becca, giving them time to wind down.

I found her in what the crew members had taken to calling the "frat house." It was actually a green room, a large space that all of the dressing rooms assigned to Dream Defiled opened into, and where everyone tended to hang out. There were multiple televisions, with one dedicated to a connected videogame console. A fully stocked bar and tons of snacks offered refreshment, and there was enough comfortable seating for everyone to relax on.

What I discovered from listening to the conversation Becca was having with the crew chief, is that almost everything in the room had been supplied for the tour, and was coming with us on the road. Which seemed nuts to me. I was pretty sure every city the tour was visiting had local leather couches, but criticizing the budget was seriously not my job. But as I circled the space I still looked for clues of why this particular furniture was so special. Given how much there was, it had to take up a truck all its own. Resigned to never solving that particular mystery, I got Becca's attention and gestured to her about where I wanted to set up for a little chat with the guys when they were ready. She gave me a thumbs-up signal and went back to her conversation, while occasionally glancing down at her phone. That girl was a multitasking machine.

Once I had everything set, camera on the tripod, lights in what I hoped were the right spots since I was a little rusty on lighting a group, I didn't have anything to do but wait, and I got nervous. Wondering if they'd talk to me. Wondering if my growing feelings for Matthew would make things awkward. Wondering if my bosses would think what I got was boring and decide I wasn't worth giving a second chance. Worrying about how much I was worrying.

It turned out I had no reason to worry. While my confidence was shaken, the guys were pros and fell into their familiar patterns of charm, humor and sweetness. Rick said very little, Matthew said almost nothing. Joe and Dex bantered and dazzled and I just made sure the camera didn't run out of batteries, letting them do their thing.

We talked for about half an hour before they had to go and start preparing for the show and I headed upstairs to find someplace to record some voiceover and upload the footage to my office. When I finally finished, I barely had time to get up to the VIP box before the lights in the stadium went out. As soon as they did, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Even high above the floor, it was intoxicating and I found myself feeling energized and excited for the show. It wasn't a feeling shared by most of the others in the suite. People in suits who were engrossed with the free champagne or their computers were most of my company. And even worse, the only faces I knew were Julia's momager and the publicist who always stared at me like she was trying to control my mind when she thought I wasn't looking. Instead of making terrible small-talk with anyone, I perched on a seat by the glass, able to feel the whole building vibrate as the bass beat of an instrumental track played while the last of the audience settled in place. I blocked out everything else and just enjoyed the show while I could. I was sure hearing the same songs from all three acts would get old soon enough, but for the moment it was amazing, watching all of the chaos and stress come together in an adrenaline-pumping good time. I'd never had the money growing up to attend a show like this and I suddenly understood why people camped out for days to get tickets. No matter how great a recording is, there was nothing like sharing the experience of a live show with thousands of other people. It was a strange combination of overwhelming and intimate, and all three sets were over almost before I knew it.

While the stadium emptied and people headed backstage, I went out to the bus area to make sure my luggage was in the right place. A group of security guards were carrying a bunch of screaming fans away after they'd somehow managed to sneak into the restricted area. I remembered the legend of a groupie in the seventies who'd managed to sneak onto her favorite band's bus and ended up spending the whole tour there. I wondered if it was true, and if she'd had fun. If her family had missed her, had even known where she went. Maybe she'd been running away from nothing, trying anything she could think of to find a connection, a new family of sorts.

"Shit, that's grim," I muttered, shaking my head. I found my designated ride, bus four, and the driver showed me the storage area underneath, where my stuff was clearly labeled, of course, with my name, all access pass sticker with my personalized code, bus number, and cell phone number, presumably in case something got lost, which seemed unlikely given the elaborate organization.

Smiling, I climbed the bus steps and the driver helped me stow my delicate camera gear and computer. The crew bus wasn't as fancy or as big as the one the bands got to ride in, but it was still big and comfortable. There were padded bench seats up front, and then a kitchen and eating area and the bathroom. Behind that was the storage section with cubbies and a pocket door leading to the bunk area. The driver got out to do something and I had the place to myself for a minute, so I went for a wander. Some of the bunks were already decked out with posters, clothing, stickers and other personal items. Behind the set of twelve bunks there was another door that led to a second even smaller bathroom and a small seating area. The whole place was clean and fresh-smelling, but I imagined that would change very quickly.

My good mood from the show was fading, and I began to feel tired. I wasn't looking forward to spending hours and hours on the road with people who didn't know me, but knew each other very well. Like being the new kid in school all over again, but without an escape at the end of the day. I slipped into the back area and slid the door closed behind me, pretending I could stay there forever. I curled up in the corner and shut my eyes, listening to the distant noise from outside, and promptly fell asleep.

*

I was jolted awake by a loud laugh and exclamation, "Found her!"

I blinked a few times at the person standing in the doorway. It was Red, Dream Defiled's gigantic but soft-spoken security chief. "Hey, we been looking for you all over."

I sat up awkwardly, stiff from the weird position I'd been in. "Oh, sorry. Just kind of nodded off."

He laughed and sat down next to me. "No worries. Smart to get some peace and quiet while you can." He pulled out his walkie and pressed a button. "Package located, rear of bus four. Cancel that missing person report and search party."

I gasped and then rolled my eyes when he winked at me.

"Just kidding, kid," he said. "But someone's looking for you, and we're heading out in under thirty."

"Okay." I could see other people milling around up front and felt stupid. Great first impression. But any annoyance I felt disappeared when Matthew's frame filled the doorway. I couldn't control the smile that broke across my face.

"Well," Red said, standing up. "Glad we found you before we called out the dogs. Oh, and I gotta remember to call the National Guard and tell them to stand down."

"Not falling for that again," I chided.

"See you on the flip side." He clapped Matthew on the shoulder and left us alone.

Matthew closed the door and joined me, his thigh against mine. "Hey. I thought you ran out on me."