Since it was unclear whether I would be able to secure a babysitter in order to see Justin in Massachusetts, he’d sent me a laminated backstage pass that would allow me exclusive access in the event something came through at the last minute. He said he wasn’t sure he’d be available to greet me if and when I arrived. Having the card would be a safer bet in case he was in the middle of a sound check or even in the middle of performing depending on how late I got there.
I wasn’t going to know until the last minute whether I would be able to make it, since my only babysitter option was Susan. She happened to have an important appointment in Boston that day that she couldn’t cancel. Depending on traffic, she wasn’t sure if she’d make it back in time.
It was the day of the concert, and I was getting really antsy. I’d toyed with the idea of driving up there with Bea during the day, but that was no longer an option, since she’d come down with a cold. Taking her out in the freezing weather and to a crowded venue like that was not a good idea; she could catch pneumonia.
By the time evening rolled around, Susan called from the road to say that she’d gotten stuck in traffic and hadn’t even made it out of Boston’s Ted Williams Tunnel yet. At that point, I knew I would miss the start of the show if I were lucky enough to make it at all. I was honestly heartbroken. This was my one chance to see Justin for the entire tour. It didn’t seem fair.
Nevertheless, I had gotten myself dressed up anyway, continuing to hold out hope. Donning a short and tight satin blue dress with black lace accents, I looked more like a lingerie model than a stay-at-home mom. In the event that I got to see him tonight, I wanted to knock his socks off. I was, after all, competing with an entire world of models and groupies vying for his attention. That thought made my stomach turn as I curled my hair into long, loose tendrils and put on my matte plum lipstick. Something told me all of this effort was in vain, but I needed to be prepared to fly out the door if Susan ever made it back here. When the clock struck eight, it became clear I was going to miss his performance no matter what happened.
At eight-forty-five, Justin called right before he had to report to the stage.
“No luck?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry. I wanted to make it work so badly, but she’s not here yet. There’s no way I’ll get there in time tonight.” My voice was shaky, but I refused to cry or else my mascara would have run down my face.
“Fuck, Amelia. I’m not gonna lie. This is a major disappointment. I was looking forward to seeing you so much. It was what got me through this week. Of course, I understand though. Bea comes first. Always. Kiss her for me. I hope she feels better.”
We stayed on the line, the disappointment heard loud through our silence and the long sigh of frustration that escaped him.
I heard a man’s voice before Justin said, “Shit. They’re calling me.”
“Okay. Have a good show.”
“I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”
Before I could respond, the line went dead.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a frantic knock at the door. When I opened it, Susan was panting. “Go. Go, Amelia!”
“It might be too late. The show will be over when I get there.”
“Yes. But you’ll get to see him before they take off, right?”
“I think so. I’m not sure exactly when the bus leaves for the next city.”
“Don’t waste time talking to me. Just tell me where Bea is.”
“She’s sleeping. I left a long note with instructions on the counter.”
“I’ve got it.” She waved me off. “Go get your man, Amelia.”
Blowing her a kiss, I said, “I owe you big time. Thank you for this.”
It had been a while since I last drove on the highway at night. The beginnings of a panic attack started to creep in as I sped up I-95. Trying to focus on seeing Justin and not the cars whizzing past me, I was able to keep the panic from escalating into a full-blown attack. The GPS served as my co-pilot because I had no idea where I was going. This part of Massachusetts was completely foreign to me.
Sweat permeated my body as I got closer. Even though it was cold out, I turned on the air conditioner for circulation to calm myself. What was I doing? The show was over. I hadn’t texted him. I told myself it was because I wanted to surprise him, but a part of me wanted to see what things were like when he wasn’t expecting me.
Parking in the large lot outside of the venue, I wrapped my arms around myself. I’d rushed out of the house so fast, I’d forgotten a coat. Running in my high-heeled boots—the same ones I’d worn with my Catwoman costume—I made my way to a tall chain-link fence which separated the VIP area from the parking lot.
Two black tour buses with tinted windows sat just inside the gate. A guard wearing a headset stood at the entrance. Groups of women gathered nearby, probably hoping for a glimpse of the artists.
My breath was visible in the night air as I flashed my special badge and spoke to the guard. “Is the show over?”
“Almost. Calvin is in the middle of the last set.”
“Where can I find Justin Banks? He gave me this access card.”
“Justin is in Bus Two. That’s the one on the right.”