Getting Real

42. Cupcakes and Come Downs



“Reedy, she’s just arrived,” said Tef.

“Can you bring her in? I’ll meet you over on the grassed area.”

Tef took off with a smile. Mum was one groupie the guys would be happy to see and not because she was willing to put out for a backstage pass. Her put out was universally shared, free of obligation and all sugar—literally.

There was already a huddle of roadies when Jake arrived with Glen and Bodge. His mum was somewhere in the middle of it. They could hear her laughing. She was Wendy Darling with all the lost boys clamouring for her attention.

Jake waited until the crowd thinned; roadies going past him with strawberry, lemon and chocolate iced cupcakes in their hands and smiles on their faces.

Lizard said, “Your mum’s a top bird, Reedy,” as he sauntered past, licking crumbs from his fingers.

“Hello darling,” she called when she saw him. “Oh, is that Bodge with you?”

“Yes Mrs Reedy, it’s me,” said Bodge, stepping forward. “Got any cake left for this old soldier?”

“Saved one for you especially,” said Trish, with a cheeky grin.

“Mum!” said Jake, calling her on the flirting.

“Well, I did,” she said, a wide-eyed Wendy.

On stage, Rand peered at the roadie huddle. “What’s going on?” he said, to no one in particular.

Lizard, passing said, “It’s Jake’s mum. She always brings us cake when we’re in Sydney.”

“For real?” said Rand, to no one again.

A few minutes later, Rielle asked the same question. “What’s going on down there?” Standing with Rand, she could see various roadies trouping back towards the stage area laughing and talking. Jake was standing at the outer edge of a cluster of black shirts.

“Jake’s mum brings cake.”

She looked at Rand with her mouth open. “No! Seriously?”

“Cool, huh.”

“Yeah!”

Rand put his big hand over Rielle’s forehead and eyes. “Hmm, not hot.”

She squirmed away. “What’re you doing?”

“You didn’t say anything mean about Jake’s mum. You’ve gotta be coming down with something.”

“I met Jake’s mum and dad last night.”

“You went to dinner?”

“Yep. Home cooked chicken and vegetables with apricot pie and whipped cream.”

“Yum. Was it weird?”

“Only at first. It was a nice night,” she said, with a shrug that probably told Rand more than her words about how surprised she was by that.

He slapped his hand back on her forehead. “You’re definitely coming down with something.”


Just because she wasn’t sick didn’t stop Rielle throwing up. That night as seventy-five thousand fans streamed into the stadium, she was braced over the toilet bowl in her dressing room, dry retching.

This was Sydney, this was the hometown crowd at last. This was the hardcore beginning of the world tour and the next six months of her life.

Rand handed her a bottle of water when she emerged. “I feel like crap too. But at least I look better than you.”

Rielle sipped the water. “At least I can fix how I look. God, we made it. Do you want to know how many times I almost booked a plane ride home before tonight?”

“No!” Rand rolled his eyes back in his head. “Did you really?”

“Yeah.”

“F*cking fantastic. I’m glad I didn’t know that. What stopped you?”

There was a thump on the door and Teflon called, “Ten minutes.”

“You, the guys.” Rielle peered in the dressing room mirror, adjusted the green and silver stands she’d added to her hair. “Jake.”

“So, he was able to help you?”

She nodded, lipstick brush in hand. “Just knowing he was there for me, in my corner. It helped.”

Rand grinned, stood beside her at the mirror and finger combed his hair. “So what happens in that corner now?”

“We rock Sydney.” She pouted at the mirror and tried to ignore his pointed look.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know that’s not what you meant, but what do you want me to say? You told me to get it together and to let Jake help me. He did, and here we are, ready to face seventy-five thousand screaming Sydney fans.”

Rand stepped back from the mirror, frowning. “You cannot be that evil, Rie.”

“He knew what he was getting into.”

“Pin me with those purple eyes and tell me you don’t feel something for Jake like what I feel for Harry?”

“Five minutes,” said Teflon outside the door. Then it burst open and Stu came in. “I just barfed,” he said, a look of surprise plastered on his face. “Shit, I’m nervous.”

Rand laughed and clapped Stu on the shoulder. “Must be a Sydney thing.” He looked back at Rielle, and she knew he was seeing through her. He grinned. “It’s gonna be a great show.”

In the backstage tunnel they passed the members of Problem Children coming off stage. They could hear the roar of the crowd as their own show’s opening music and video presentation began.

Rielle felt the sound vibrate through her body and hugged Rand, Stu and Roley who were first up on stage. The nausea had gone; what remained was an energy that made her feel weightless and all-powerful. She stood alone in the backstage area, feeling the music pound in her veins and visualising her entrance off the trapeze. Composed and steady, she waited for Bodge to clip her safety harness on. When she lifted her arms to give him access to the belt at her waist, it was Jake who snapped the harness in place.

Jake wanted to see her before she went on stage, but he didn’t want to break her concentration. He slid the safety harness into place and stepped away, just as Bodge would’ve done, without otherwise disturbing Rielle. There was no reason for her to know it wasn’t Bodge, but she snatched his hand and turned to face him, her head snapping up to look at him. What he saw made him blink in surprise, made his heart skip, but the look was gone in an instant as she re-focussed and the trapeze lifted her into the rigging.

He’d seen desire and something more. From anyone else he’d have called it love, but from Rielle? Jake shook his head as the roar from the stadium accompanied her entrance on stage and her voice lifted in song. Probably unfair to surprise her—unfair to interrupt her pre-performance routine. He hadn’t meant to do that, but that look—had it been one of irritation it would’ve made more sense, but that wasn’t annoyance in her eyes, in the lift of her lips, or in the way she grasped his hand.

He moved back to get out of the pathway of the stage support team and found himself standing beside Jonathan, who was drenched in sweat, shirtless, a towel around his neck, slugging from a bottle of water.

They watched as the show unfolded, from the opening number, through the initial patter with the audience that made the crowd scream their excitement and appreciation, and into the second song, where Rielle and Rand’s vocals came together in a exhilarating mix of soaring notes and passionate expression.

Two songs later, Rielle left the stage for her first costume change. Half blind from the stage lighting and now in relative darkness, she had Teflon at her side to guide her through the backstage area. Handing her an open water bottle, Tef steered her past Jonathan and Jake towards the offstage change area. When she drew level with Jake, she broke her stride, put her hand to the back of his head and pulled him in close for a quick, hot, sweaty kiss. Then she was gone, leaving him with a lip splitting grin. He wiped the red lipstick away.

Jonathan exploded. “I’m f*cking amazed she chose you,” he yelled.

“What?” Jake shouted, the smile leaving his face. Through his earplugs, he’d heard aggression but not the words.

Jonathan turned to face him, spittle flying. “She’s a superstar. You’re a f*cking roadie.”

Jonathan was hyped-up with adrenaline and resentment. Jake knew he should step back and let it go, but something in the tall singer’s sense of entitlement to a stronger claim on Rielle made anger curl in his muscles.

“Back the f*ck off. She makes her own choices.”

Jonathan loomed over him. “Hah, you’re right.” He stabbed a finger at Jake’s chest. “When she’s finished playing with you she’ll choose someone who fits her talents better, like me, mate. So you hang on for all you’re worth Reedy ‘cause the come down is gonna to be f*cking brutal.”