The Problem With Crazy (6 page)

The more I thought about it, the more I struggled to breathe. The air was thick, choking my lungs, invading them with a sense of despair I wasn’t sure I could cope with.

I pushed back the hair from my face and clenched my jaw.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I had to get out of there. I grabbed my suitcase from upstairs and clunked it down the hall, two steps at a time, rolling it past the kitchen.

“Bye Mum,” I yelled, as I slammed the door behind me and headed out to the first show of the tour.

The relief I felt as I walked out the front door, the weight lifted off my shoulders, was astronomical. My steps were lighter. The sun was shining out from behind a particularly dark-lined cloud.

There’s something to be said for the art of running away.

After the hour-long drive to Sydney I found an easy park, just around the corner from the club. Stacey and I met out front, arriving what we hoped was fashionably late. Unfortunately, so did the other four thousand fans attending the “intimate” Coal gig that night, meaning four thousand other barely-dressed females stood in line with us, waiting to have their IDs checked and stash their oversized bags, some of which seemed to use more material than their outfits. Apparently, some of the girls attending had taken the term “intimate” as a dress code, not a venue size.

“When are they on?” Stacey checked her watch for what felt like the millionth time. For someone whose boyfriend wasn’t in the band, she sure was keen on seeing the start of the show.

“How come? Are you worried you’ll miss seeing hundreds of girls screaming at Michael?” I teased, nudging her with my shoulder. Stacey coloured, just the tiniest bit.

“Oh, Kate. Stop looking at me like that.” Stacey laughed, and fished around in her handbag for some lip gloss. She found it and reapplied, even though her lips already flashed with the sheen of glossy perfection.

“Well, you know, it is a little odd.” I took the proffered gloss from her hand and quickly swiped it over my own lips. “Usually you ignore Michael, or pretend to vomit if he so much as accidentally brushes your shoulder.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I miss the attention?” Stacey looked out at me from wide blue eyes as we shuffled forward in the queue.

“Stace, don’t toy with him. I know he acts all goofy, but I’m fairly certain he actually does have a heart.”

“Tickets and ID,” the burly security guard instructed, and I handed them over, noting the tribal tattoos on his incredibly thick arm.

I wondered if he’d have much work to do tonight, shielding Coal and their incredibly hot lead singer, Lee Collins. Then I wondered if he’d have to protect Dave and the band from all the scantily-clad, super boozy girls strutting around the place. The band had played a few gigs lately, and Dave sure seemed to get a lot of attention from the girls.
Would he prefer to be with one of them, and have a no-doubt Huntington’s-free lifestyle?

I shook the thought from my head, grabbed my card and ticket stub back from the security detail and walked inside the club, lifting my feet with extra effort as they stuck to the thin, dirty carpet.

The room was brightly lit with a red-painted bar in the corner, next to the doorway that led to the room with the stage in it. All around us people were hanging out, draped over railings, slumped against chairs, or milling in the drinks line.

We joined the queue and slipped through the gaps, trying hard to avoid touching other fans and covering ourselves in their sweat.

The main room was more packed than the foyer, people crammed in together near the front of the stage where I could see the familiar amps and drum kit of Dave & the Glories. The ratio of girls to boys was about 70:30. The chance of my toes being trod on through my flat sandals by a girl in stilettos was dangerously high.

“So, did you see your dad after graduation?” Stacey cupped her hand around her mouth to yell at me.

Huh. You could say that.

“Yeah,” I yelled back.

“Did he apologise? What was his problem?” A girl dressed in a black, shiny miniskirt rammed into my back, sending me reeling forward till I crashed into someone else’s arm. This venue was hardly the ideal location to share my family’s deep, dark secret.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said, and she left it at that.

“Do you want to stand near the front?” Stacey leaned close to me, and I smelled a hint of beer on her breath. She’d been in Sydney all day. Clearly she was ready to party.

“It’s okay. It might be a little lame.” I didn’t like being front and centre when Dave played. It made me embarrassed, which I knew was silly. After all, if he played football I wouldn’t have any hesitation standing on the sidelines to watch him at our local clubhouse.

But your local clubhouse doesn’t have a 70:30 ratio of girls to boys, Kate
.

And the girlfriends at football games attend these outdoor events during winter. They’re definitely wearing more clothing than the ones in attendance tonight.

The noise became deafening as the lights dimmed. Stacey gripped my wrist in excitement, flashing me a huge grin. This was it. The moment had come. The boys were going to go on stage.

Dave strode out first, followed by Michael, then Benny, and Nick, the newest member to the group. The girls screamed and squealed, and I saw the flashes of hundreds of cameras go off, highlighting the boys’ frames against the backdrop. My heart started to beat faster. That was my boyfriend people were cheering for.

A rush of pride enveloped me, and I screamed out with the rest of them. It was a wordless yell, just noise contributing to noise, but it felt good. I’d helped organise the tour and here they were, on the first night. This was really happening.

“Sydney, you are looking good tonight,” Dave said, as if he didn’t live just over an hour’s drive away. He picked up his guitar and extended his arm ninety degrees from his body, sweeping across the audience. “We’re so excited to be here, supporting one of our favourite bands, the awesome Coal!”

If the screams had been loud before, they were deafening once he said the other band’s name. Not waiting for the din to die down, Michael struck his guitar, the drums let out an almighty smash and the band kicked into motion. I lost myself in their music, swaying slightly to the beat. It was one of their newer songs, a high-energy, fun number I’d only heard a few times. Dave sung the lyrics into the microphone, his hips gyrating against the stand as his guitar hung, unused, from his neck.

The chorus started and he grabbed the guitar and strummed it, power emanating from him. The crowd yelled in approval, and I saw Dave bounce back from their energy, giving more and more, playing harder, louder, and faster than I’d ever seen him play before.

“
I’m gonna kiss that girl goodbye
,” he snarled the hook line of the chorus with no backing behind him. When the music roared back in, the cheers started again. The excitement was palpable.

“That’s your boyfriend,” Stacey squealed in my ear, shaking her hands up and down.

Dave launched into a guitar solo, ripping through notes and flinging the neck of his instrument around like it was the most consuming musical break known to man. The crowd loved it. I saw the girls at the front of the stage screaming, their hands in the air, reaching up to try to touch him whenever he’d come dangerously near the stage’s lip.

The solo finished, and Dave let the guitar hang again, then clasped both hands around the microphone as he sung the chorus one final time. The girls down the front screamed appreciatively once more. I could just see their platinum-blonde hair highlighted in the stage spotlights.

“
I’m gonna kiss that girl goodbye.
”

When the last line was sung, I saw Dave make direct eye contact with somebody in the front row. And he winked at them.

Winked!

My boyfriend … He’d winked at someone?

Was I allowed to be upset about this, or not?

Should I be?

The crowd erupted, jumping up and down and applauding for a band that only two months ago was virtually unknown. I pushed the thought from my mind and instead tried to focus as they launched into their next song, a slower number with a driving bass line, one they’d written years ago.

Stacey thrust her hips in time to the music, shimmying with the beat, and soon, a pair of male arms snaked around her waist. I smiled. Trust her to get the attention of what felt like one of only five males in the building.

I turned my attention back to the set, losing myself in the music as the boys played a short collection of songs I knew like my own personal anthems. When Dave let out his final cry—“We are Dave & the Glories, good night!”—my heart swelled with pride. The crowd was screaming. They’d played well. My boyfriend’s first major gig had been a success.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I said to Stacey, who still had her arms wrapped around her new friend’s neck, even though the music had stopped.

After showing the security guard my stamp, I strolled up the stairs, wondering what I’d do to kill time for the next five minutes or so. Of course, once alone, my thoughts flew to Dad.

How much worse would he get?

How long would he have?

And—
shit—
what should I expect from this stupid counselling appointment tomorrow?

A girl in a silver skirt barged my shoulder as she walked past and I stumbled into the wall, catching myself with my blunt nails.

Am I invisible, I wanted to yell.

If I get the disease, will I be?
I knew that kind of disappearing act. It was the kind of invisible people are when they’re publicly drunk, or have a mental illness; everywhere they walk, people turn away, busy their eyes, their hands and their minds.

I turned around and headed back to the foyer. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I searched out Stacey, and found her with her mysterious new suitor, lips locked.

I just couldn’t find the words.

“They’re signing autographs.”

“The opening band?” A girl standing behind me squealed. I pricked up my ears, full eavesdropping-mode kicking in.

“Yeah, Dave and the something-or-others. They’re just inside the doors to the room.”

Treasuring this nugget of information, I made my way back toward the stage area. Talking to Dave, feeling his arms around me, his voice telling me everything would be all right was something I needed to get through the rest of the night.

I scanned the room and found a clump of girls surrounding a small table with some shirts and CDs pinned to the wall above it.

I approached, seeing the boys talking enthusiastically to a group of six girls in front of them. They were all smiling and laughing.

I took a deep breath. Was I jealous that the girls talking to Dave were pretty? Or was I jealous that with them he seemed happy and carefree, whereas his last two interactions with me were all about my family problems?

When I was three feet away, Dave leaned over to the leader, a girl with blonde hair wearing a low-cut black singlet. The girl lifted up her singlet, holding the front over her head so she could see out underneath it … as my boyfriend, Dave from Dave & the Glories, slowly signed her boobs with a black Sharpie marker.

He didn’t use his hands to hold the Sharpie in place.

Instead, he used his lips.