Page 88 of Stage Dive: Short Stories & Novellas
“Would you happen to have some ID on you, ma’am?”he asked.
I fished out my wallet from my jeans’ pocket.Not easy to do with the heaving mass of sweaty bodies around me, cramming me in on every angle.I produced my license, and he shone a little flashlight on it.“It’s from last year so my hair was a lot longer,” I explained.“And blue.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he gave no other reaction.
Blue hair had been great.From turquoise to indigo and back again.All of my childhood mermaid dreams come to life.Right now, however, it’d been cut to around shoulder blade-length and dyed silver and gray.Very kickass.
Next the security dude pulled out a slick little walkie-talkie and issued a series of orders.Another guy, this one in black jeans and a matching tee, joined him at the gate.Now it was his turn to look me up and down in mild disbelief.But then the gate carefully opened, and they ushered me through.A couple of the fans nearby complained bitterly and offered bribes (of both sexual and monetary nature).But no-go.Only I was permitted into the inner sanctum.Amazing.It had actually worked.I was really going to get to see him again after all this time.Every speech I’d prepared earlier disappeared from my head, and my hands started shaking for reasons I’d rather not ponder.
Up some stairs and into the elusive, exclusive backstage area the bodyguard and I went.A high wall sheltered us from the actual stage and its surrounds.But it soon opened to a larger corridor with people rushing back and forth.The banging vibration of the bass seemed to seep through the walls, the music loud enough to make my ears ring.We made a sharp right turn, and the sort of industrial look gave way to a slick little lounge with a bar and fridge, a large arrangement of white orchids, bottles of water lined up on a side table, a glass bowl full of M&Ms (Adam’s favorite), and an Amazonian woman busy with her cell.Tall, brunette, vaguely terrifying, and wearing a pair of fifties-style Saint Laurent platform heels I’d had wet dreams of owning.Oh, good Lord, those shoes.I could have drooled.A cheap knockoff of them sat at home in my wardrobe.I was still saving them for a special occasion.But not this sort of special occasion.Coming here tonight, doing this, had seemed like more of a combat boot kind of situation.Storming the rock ‘n’ roll castle and all that.
“Thanks, Ziggy,” she said, dismissing the bodyguard before her gaze flicked over me with obvious disinterest.“You’ve got sixty seconds.Talk.”
“And who the hell might you be?”I asked, not so politely, refusing to be cowed.
At this, she smiled.“I’m Martha, Adam’s manager, and you?”
“Jill.Adam’s ex.But I’m sure the bodyguard already told you that.”
The speculative look in her eyes increased some hundred-fold.“So, what do you want, Adam’s ex?”
“To talk to Adam about something he sent me recently.”
She raised her chin.“The check.I didn’t know he’d done that.”
“You know everything he does?”
“Basically,” she said, tone blasé.“You have to understand, rock stars are all big, whiny babies who need someone running their lives, or everything goes to hell in a handbasket.For Adam, I am that someone.Next question.If the check is real, and you are who you say you are, why not just take the money and run?”
I sighed.“I thought about it.That album has been the bane of my existence ever since it came out.I can’t go anywhere without hearing the damn thing.Bars, gas stations, the grocery store…it’s like I’m being musically stalked.”
“The songs aren’t exactly complimentary toward you,” she allowed.
At this, I rolled my eyes.A terrible habit, but I couldn’t help myself.If someone said something breathtakingly obvious, my first impulse was always the silent and deadly,duh.“I’m not getting into that with you.It’s private.Well, it should be private.Though it would be fair to say that Adam’s version of our relationship and mine differ significantly.But the fact is, he’s been working on making it in the music business since long before I met him.It was his dream, and he worked hard and saw it through.Kudos to him.If he’d just sent me his share of the rent and so on for the period we lived together, then I wouldn’t be here right now.Because this check…it’s too much.Way too much.”
“Seven digits is impressive.But he can afford it, if that’s your concern.”
“I’m sure he can, but that’s not the point.”
“You’ve never given any interviews about him.Never sold any photos from when you were together.I’d have been alerted to it if you had.”
“And?”
Her gaze scanned my body, up and down.“Are you pregnant?”
“No.”
“Do you hope to get pregnant?”
“Good Lord.Get your mind out of my uterus.I just want to talk to him about the check.”
For a long moment, the manager chick, Martha, just stared at me.Then she said, “Interesting.Come with me.”
Then she was off, striding in those elegant towering high heels.I bet she could sprint in those suckers.It was like the whole world was her runway and she had places to be.
“Where are we going?”I asked, not quite jogging to keep up.Short legs sucked sometimes.
“You want to talk to Adam?”
