Chapter 5
I miss their first two songs because it takes forever for me to sign in and get the backstage pass. With a pass around my neck, I head down a hallway, passing locker rooms along the way—this arena is usually used for sporting events—until I end up behind the raised stage. The music and the volume of the crowd, along with palpable energy in the air, hit me as I come around one side of the stage. Security guards stand in a line, forming a wall in front of the stage. A few glance over their shoulders at my pass but maintain their impassive faces and crossed arms as I keep moving between them and the stage. The floor beyond the bouncers is packed, yet the seats beyond the floor aren’t even half-filled—unfortunately for Luminescent Juliet, an unknown opening band is good inspiration for a beer run. Except for the diehards standing on the floor. They’re camped out for the duration.
I glance up onstage, still amazed that all four band members were able to get their gear out of the bus and start performing within a half hour of our arrival. Dressed in the worn, baggy shorts, T-shirts, and tennis shoes that they wear to lounge on the bus instead of their usual rocker jeans and boots, they’re definitely sporting the college look tonight, but they still look hot. As their song “Bleak Moon” pounds in my eardrums and rumbles in my chest, I take a closer look at each of them, starting with Romeo. He’s at the corner of the stage, playing a solo. Justin is hanging out near Gabe and the drums. Sam is plucking his bass in the other corner. I walk the length of the front of the stage, between it and the bouncers, overwhelmed at my closeness to the band. I could reach out and touch Romeo’s shoe. For several minutes, I’m caught up in the lights, the music, the roar of the crowd, and my proximity to the band. An excited giddiness rolls through my stomach as I’m immersed in the moment and the intensity of it all. I’ve never been this close to the action at a concert. What makes it even more amazing is that, in a small way, I’m part of it.
The guitar solo ends. Justin jumps to the center of the stage and starts singing. I grab my camera just in time to catch him in another jump. The song is energetic, with a hint of blues. Before I was asked to join the tour, I’d always avoided Luminescent Juliet’s music, mainly because I didn’t want to be reminded of Sam. It took some work, considering how popular their songs have been at our school for the past two years. Once I’d agreed to come, though, I bought their new album and made myself listen to it. I was a bit shocked by how good they sounded. How well they mixed punk, folk, and blues into a rock sound all their own. That talent had strengthened my resolve to come on tour.
Done with “Bleak Moon,” they roll right into another song. I’m aware, after listening in on their last meeting on the bus, that they have thirty-five minutes to perform. It’s smart that they opted to keep playing instead of switching out instruments and going acoustic.
As the rhythm builds, I catch a great photo of Gabe in a drum fill. Then I shoot a picture of Romeo standing before a gathering crowd, the fans lifting their hands to him. Justin raises the microphone stand above his head. The pose makes a unique photo from my angle below. After getting a bunch of good shots of everyone else, I turn my attention to Sam.
He bounces, sings the chorus, and points to the crowd when he’s not plucking on his bass strings. He looks like he’s having a blast, and I’m reminded of the happy-go-lucky Sam I used to know. The Sam who is apparently gone. I lift my camera and catch him winking at a girl in the front. Next I take a picture of him and Justin sharing a microphone as they sing the chorus. When he’s done singing, he steps back and concentrates on playing his bass. The energy and playfulness he shows onstage come across as unconsciously sexy. I’m not sure if that’s a new part of his performance, or if I was too obsessed with Seth or just too young and immature to notice it before.
They end their set with their biggest indie hit, “Inked My Heart.” At the first notes, a murmur of excitement flows through the crowd on the floor. The song is popular enough that some of them must know it, but it also causes a hush because it starts in a slow, dreamy, melodic way that’s distinctly different from the songs they’ve played so far. Justin sings the lyrics with real emotion and I can feel the crowd respond. I let my camera hang from my neck and reach for the notebook in my back pocket. Instead of taking pictures, I jot impressions. The crowd swaying in sync with the melody. The band under the dimmed lights, a haze of stage fog behind them. The perfection of the music and the clearness of Justin’s voice. His sad, somber expression as he sings. The pure concentration Romeo and Sam are giving to their instruments. Gabe’s visible restraint behind the drums. I tend to catch the details better in words when I’m in the moment. I want to use my initial impressions when I write the blog post later. The song ends and the crowd goes wild.
Though I’ve heard from the other band members that Justin can sometimes ramble behind the microphone, he wraps up perfectly this time. He simply leans forward and says, “Thank you.” The band clears the stage, and takes the energy hanging in the air with them.
As the lights come on, I tuck my notebook in a pocket and move to a roped-off area on the side of the floor where backstage ticket holders sit. Some guy comes by with a box strapped around his neck that’s stocked with beer. Crazy thirsty after the exhilaration of the performance, I buy one and start sipping as I wait for the next band. While my main reason for coming was to get experience as a journalist, seeing rock bands for free—in the backstage area no less—is a huge, awesome-ass perk.
Griff, one of the bands on the tour, opens with a loud, rowdy song that gets the crowd going again. Their sound is more heavy alternative rock, whereas Brookfield, the last band to play and the one with the biggest name, is more folky. Style-wise, Luminescent Juliet is kind of between the two, and suddenly I realize why the tour manager wanted them even though they had recently hit the big time by rising up the indie charts. Of course, I’m a fan of both of the other bands, and many of their songs are on my playlists.
I’m swaying to the music when Justin appears at the entrance of the gated area. Spotting me in the back, he waves for me to come over. I silently laugh as the girls around me give me cold, envious looks, thinking I’m about to hook up with a super-hot lead singer. Not. Once I get to him, he starts striding down the long hall.
“Come on. Romeo sent me to get you. We’re in a suite on the top floor.”
Dang. I almost stop and turn around. I was enjoying the concert, the close proximity to the stage, yet I’m here to chronicle Luminescent Juliet and do a job. So I force myself to follow Justin to the elevator. A security guard simply nods to us as we go inside.
On the top floor, we head down another hall and enter a dimly lit room full of people lounging on couches and sitting at long tables. Gabe and Sam sit with a bunch of girls in one corner. Justin points to a counter with buffet trays and leans close when he speaks so I can hear him over the music of the concert, which is loud even up here.
“Grab something to eat, then come watch the show.” He gestures across the roomful of people to rows of seats in front of a glass wall. Beyond the glass, a shadowy sea of people’s heads provides a stark contrast to the brightly lit stage at the bottom of the arena. He also points out the door leading to a private bathroom in the back of the room.
I slowly realize that we’re in one of the glassed-in suites at the top of the arena.
Justin heads to an empty seat next to Romeo while I reach for a plate. As the scent of meatballs, cheese-filled potato skins, and chicken wings hits my nose, my stomach grumbles. I’d been so entranced by the music, I forgot I hadn’t eaten a thing since my peanut butter sandwich at lunch. I take a little something from each tray, then fill the rest of my plate with raw veggies. Dieting like a madwoman on and off for almost two years sucked. I now concentrate on being healthy in order to stay in size six jeans instead of obsessing over calorie counts.
Once my plate is full, I notice the only spot open is at Sam’s table. I’m hit by a wave of anxiety. Irritated by my own reaction, I move toward the empty seat anyway. I need to be fearless when it comes to Sam, for my own mental health. Otherwise, it feels like I’m not over the past, and I am, dammit.
I sit at the far end of the table. One of the girls scans me dismissively and Sam smiles coldly at me. “How’d we do?”
He knows they’re good, and I’m not about to lie just because we don’t like each other. “Great. If I didn’t know, I would have never guessed you’re a college band.”
His cold smile turns into a sneer. “Just a college band, huh?”
My mouth twists. I grumble, “Quit, Sam. I didn’t mean it like that. Everything I say to you isn’t calculated to come out bitchy.”
We stare at each other, firing eyeball missiles, and a hush comes over the table.
Out of the corner of my vision, I notice Gabe watching us.
Sam must notice too, because he leans back. “Touchy,” he says, then turns to the girl on his right. He twists her long hair, gives it a slight tug, and whispers something in her ear that elicits a loud laugh. Sam grins cockily.
I roll my eyes and reach for a chicken wing. Luckily, the band performing beyond the glass gives me something to look at, so it’s easy to ignore him.
After I finish eating, I sip a bottle of beer until I realize this is a great time to grab my camera and take pictures covertly. I snap a few of Justin and Romeo concentrating on the concert. Gabe and Sam never glance up as I capture them sitting with a tableful of chicks. I’m careful not to get the girls’ faces, which isn’t easy since two of them are sitting on Gabe’s lap. Unless I get them to sign waivers since they’re not in the crowd, it could be a problem to post their photos, so it’s best to avoid the issue. Gabe is clearly having fun. So much for the blonde “girlfriend” wearing the Daisy Dukes on the day we left town. Sam also looks relaxed. His mood appears so flirty and light, it’s almost hard to believe he’s the same guy who is usually such a dick to me. Seeing him act so pleasant, talking and laughing with three women, I’m suddenly pissed that he can’t let the past go. He is clearly determined to be a jerkwad to me.
The members of Griff come in, and I notice that the stage is being changed over. I put down my camera and go lean against the far wall, watching the band members as they start to unwind.
Surprisingly, the members of Griff don’t seem much different than Gabe or Sam. They stand around drinking beer and talking. Though they’re sweaty and flushed, girls hang on them. A bottle of whiskey makes a round. I’m kind of let down. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe something more wild and crazy? Other than the plethora of black clothes and rocker hair, this suite resembles a fraternity party. A boring one at that.
I pick up the camera again and take some more pictures, but when Sam and the girl move to a couch, irritation boils inside of me. I let my camera hang from my neck and get a second bottled beer. Leaning against a chair behind Romeo and Justin, I gulp half of it down. Sam was right. This isn’t going to be an easy six weeks.
I concentrate on watching Brookfield, the best-known band on the tour, and by the time a guy leans on the chair next to mine, my anger is pretty much under control.
“Hello there,” he says. His sultry tone is impossible to miss.
“Hi,” I say slowly, trying to place him because he looks familiar.
“Couldn’t help but notice you over here all alone.” His smile is warm yet somehow sly.
The black jeans and buttoned-up shirt have me guessing he is from Griff. I search his long face with its slightly crooked nose. He has that thin, sexy rocker look that dismisses good-looking. Finally, I put the pieces together and recognize his black, wild hair. He’s the guitarist for Griff.
He brushes a silver-ringed finger on my arm. “You the shy type?”
I lightly tap the camera around my neck. “No. I’m the at-work type.”
His head tilts in a question.
“I’m with Luminescent Juliet. Kind of their personal promoter.”
“Really?” His dark eyes travel the length of me, pausing at the slice of naked midriff. He inches closer. The tips of his black boots brush my flip-flops. “You’re going to be with us the whole tour, kitten?”
Leaning away from him and the kitten reference, I nod. Like the others in Griff, he appears to be in his late twenties, but his pervy comment makes him sound older. Even too old to be in Brookfield. Those guys are actually in their late thirties.
He takes a long draw from his bottled beer, then frowns. “You with one of them?”
I shake my head. “I have a boyfriend at home.”
His thin lips curl into a satisfied smile. “At home, huh?”
“Yeah, we’ve been together for almost a year,” I say, exaggerating my relationship with Bryce, hoping this guy will back off.
“Ah, but he’s not here.” He puts out a hand. “Name’s Rick. Guitarist of Griff.”
His egotistical tone implies my panties should drop now that he has announced who he is, but I keep a straight face. “Yeah, I saw the concert,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’m Peyton. Your set was great but I should get going. Long day of travel tomorrow, you know?” I step back, unexpectedly longing for the couch at the back of the bus, but he doesn’t release my hand.
He tugs on it. “Where you going? It’s early, not yet midnight, Peyton.” His voice purrs over my name.
“Lots of work to do tomorrow,” I say, trying to pull my hand from his grip. He’s about to find out that this kitten sometimes has claws.
He tugs me closer. “How about one more beer?”
“I—”
“What’s going on, Peyton?” Sam asks, suddenly appearing next to us.
Rick releases my hand and stares at Sam with narrowed eyes. Sam stares back with a tight jaw.
Testosterone hangs in the air between them. I force a relaxed expression. “Nothing much, just heading back to the bus.”
Sam tilts his head toward the exit. “Let me walk you there.” He is not asking. He is commanding me. Yet my desire to get away from Rick overrides the irritation from Sam giving me orders.
“All right,” I say, taking in Rick’s frown. “Nice meeting you. See you around.”
Watching me with a gleam in his gaze, he nods, lifting his beer as a good-bye.
In the hallway, Sam asks in a furious tone, “Was that jerk hitting on you?”
Not wanting to start anything, I shrug. “He just wanted to have a beer with me.”
“Yeah, that’s all he wanted,” Sam says as we step onto the elevator. He pulls the striped beanie out of his back pocket and yanks it on.
I cross my arms in front of me and lean against the back wall. “I can take care of myself, Sam.”
His hand grips the elevator rail. “Did you want to have a beer with him? Should I walk you back up?”
Ah, how quickly my savior returns to being a dick. I will not lose my temper. I will not lose my temper. I. Will. Not. Lose. My. Temper. “Yeah, you ruined everything, couldn’t you tell I was playing hard to get?”
I glare at him as the elevator doors open. “He’s so famous, I’d do anything to sleep with him, even forget about my boyfriend.” I breeze past him into the hall.
“You do have a past with the whole band thing,” he says, catching up to me.
Keeping calm. “Sure, I dated a singer. I liked him.” Actually, I thought the sun rose and set on his stupid ass, and believed I was in love. Teenagers are dumb. “There’s a bit of difference.”
We step out into the cool night. Apparently, high altitudes allow for hot days that turn chilly after sunset, and I shiver as we talk under the glow of the lights in the parking lot. With Sam following a few steps behind, I march past the other bands’ buses—they each have two—then the roadies’ buses. Of course, because we arrived so late, our bus is the last in the long line.
“So, what about me?” Sam asks.
I keep moving, don’t turn around to look at him. “What about you?”
“Why did you sleep with me?”
I nearly trip as my body seizes up from a mix of anger and embarrassment, but I force myself to keep my cool. I will not let Sam get to me.
“I told you never to bring that up again. It was a mistake. We both know it.” I reach for the little flap of a door handle. “Alcohol and heartbreak were to blame.” Fuck! The handle doesn’t move, which means the bus is locked. I give the door a quick rap with my knuckles.
Sam grabs my hand to stop my knocking and presses both of our hands against the fiberglass door as he leans forward, his body shadowing mine, so close I can feel his warmth. Although he’s behind me, I catch the scent of whiskey. “So you used me?” he says harshly. His mouth is inches from my ear.
“What are you talking about?” My voice breaks on the last word. I’m nervous about his closeness.
“You and Seth broke up, then you used me to get over him.”
“What?” I gasp and half turn, forcing him to step back a little. “No. It just happened. You know that. Or were you that wasted?”
He releases my hand and moves away. “I know you never considered me as anything more than a friend before that.”
I rap on the door again, and say over my shoulder, “You still can’t be pissed at me about that night.”
“Pissed? No. Aware of what kind of person you are, yes.”
“And what kind of person am I?” I ask, my teeth clenched.
“Self-centered. Bitchy. Stuck up.” His tone is laced with spite.
“Because you think I used you?” I bark, turning to face him. “You are a hypocrite. We go to the same college, asshole. How many coeds have you been with? Even I know some of the girls you’ve slept with.” My tone is spiteful too when I add, “Or shall we say used?”
He glares down at me, his lips tight. “They know what they’re getting into.”
“And you knew how I felt about Seth!” I roar, and start pounding on the door.
At last, the lock rattles from the inside and the door opens. Gary is already going back up the stairs as I step up into the bus. From the bit of interaction I’ve had with him, it has become apparent that he doesn’t consider socializing part of his job.
I turn around. “Good night, Sam,” I say snottily. Then I shut the door in his face.