by A. L. Wood
I need to hide though I do not want Steele spotting me in the audience. The first place he would look is in the way back. So I hide, right in plain sight, in the pit. Promising myself I won’t linger too long. I pull my hood up on my sweatshirt to hide myself from view, to blend in. I missed the opening acts. It wasn't as crowded as now. Thinking it was best for me to join when everyone was mashed into one another.
As the lights dim down, one by one the guys take place on the stage. I've spent the better part of today with them, from what I've seen Steele is the leader, and there’s no question as to why or how that came to be. The man is demanding and domineering, from my experiences to date he is like that in every aspect of his life.
I see Ryan take hold of the microphone and say his intro, causing everyone in my area to start jumping up and down, some asshole spilling quite a bit of his beer on me before snapping it back upright in his hand. I can’t even hear what he’s saying because everyone is screaming back, mostly obscenities even including some sexual offers.
I slide out of the spot I was in, not wanting to take a chance on drenching myself in alcohol even further. While pushing through other concert goers they start their first song, one I haven’t heard before. I end up in between a woman who’s jumping up and down, and pulling her arm back and forth. Her elbow coming pretty damn close to my face each time. And behind me is a guy, with the body of a defensive linebacker, let’s hope he decides not to mosh, it certainly wouldn’t end well.
When the woman isn't jumping around like a god damn kangaroo on crack, I end up with a pretty decent view of the stage. Taking Layla up on her advice, to opening my mind, taking advantage of the opportunity that was forced upon me. I listen, I close my eyes and just take it all in. Allowing Steele's voice to take me to the emotions, the place that he is singing about. His song, it must be his. Singing with such strong conviction, about loneliness, desperation, hate. Such contradiction, I wonder what situation he was writing about in his life to have written this, doubtful that anyone but him wrote this. No one can sing a song with such raging passion, if they didn't own it. And owning this song is exactly what he was doing on that stage when I opened my eyes.
Wrong. I was wrong about him. I do not have to be a fan of his music to appreciate his artistry. Writing lyrics is an art, an extremely hard one, you bear your soul, allowing strangers in, allowing them to understand what you have felt at some point in your life. If the song wasn't yours, everyone would see past the facade. It won’t sound real, a fan cannot connect to something unreal. Disconnecting myself from his words, from his soul weakening voice, I untangle myself form the crown and run back to the tour bus.
Rather than be around when they get back from the meet and greet I decide to hide in my bunk. Steele will know when he sees me that I heard. Once I was told my eyes were an open book, try as I might to lock myself into box I am forever failing at concealing my emotions. I need time, time away from his demanding prying eyes. Lifting my pillow up, I lift my iPod out from under my pillow and unravel the earphones, hoping I won’t even hear them come back before I drift off to sleep. Hitting shuffle, the most poetically beautiful voices starts singing, Mumford & Sons.
“You saw my pain washed out in the rain, broken glass saw the blood run from my veins, but you saw no fault no cracks in my heart, and you knelt beside my hope torn apart.
But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view, and well live a long life, so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
Cause oh they gave me such a fright, but I will hold as long as you like, just promise me we’ll be alright”
Wiping tears from my eyes, I hit repeat and let the song play over and over. Until I fall asleep.
Waking up, the earphones must have fallen out, I overhear the guys talking. They must have come in not too long ago. Trying to maintain the appearance that I am still asleep, I overhear them. I recognize Steele's voice but there’s another one. I haven't officially been introduced to him but I know his voice. It’s Zepp.
“I don’t fucking care if she’s sleeping Zepp, let me the fuck through! She could have gotten herself hurt with that childish act she pulled out there.” Steele screams. Shit.
How could he have seen me? I made sure to blend myself in. Only staying for one song.
“Ryan, go calm yourself down. This is something we can discuss in the morning, help her understand why it isn't safe for her to do something like that. Raging at her like a goddamn bull will not help. Come on man, you remember when we would sit at the fucking bar while our opening acts would perform. We had to go with the changes, she’s not used to this.” I hear Zepp argue back.
I cringe inwardly. Closing my eyes hoping Zepp doesn't let him go, only for him to confront me.
I hear the door of the tour bus open then shut with a slam. Suddenly my curtain is slid open. It’s Zepp a hard glint in his eye. “I've held him off as long as I can. When he comes back in here no one else including me will be able to stop him.”
He must have noticed how tight I was clutching the blankets underneath my body, his face softens. “Just stay in here, get some sleep, and Natalie please don’t pull a stunt like that again.” With that he slides my curtain back to close and I hear his footsteps retreat and then the bus door shut gently.
Unlocking my IPod I check to see what time it was, eleven pm, he must have ran right off stage as soon as they closed out the show. Fortunately, the meet and greet was now and from what I've heard they should be gone for quite a few hours. Putting the earphones back in and I drift off to sleep.
I run to the door wondering who would be knocking this late at night. Layla right behind me, I open the door to a police officer, he asks my name, then Layla's. His name is Officer Pettys, he tells us to get our shoes on and to join him outside.
“It’s an emergency.” He states.
Instantly my palms start sweating and my body starts shaking, uncomfortable about the unknown. And right now there is something definitely wrong.
When Layla and I go outside the police car is already pulled up, officer behind the wheel. We just get in, not asking any questions. I can tell he doesn't want to speak. Maybe trying to put off the inevitable, not wanting to irrevocably change our lives. I know that this is a dream. My body still in the sleep haze. I feel like I am a third person looking in from the outside. Watching myself, watching my life about to crumble. Everything I had ever thought I knew about life, was about to change forever.
Body still asleep, my mind still awake, I try to push through this. It’s a dream, a recurring one actually more like a nightmare. I relive this memory quite often, I have lost count of how many times I’ve had this same exact nightmare. Hating that my mind is stuck in limbo, I can hear people around me awaken. I can smell food cooking eggs and bacon. All I want is to wake up fully, so I try to push through the haze of distant memories. Trying to clear my mind, to fly away from this dream and push that tragic night back into my subconscious.
Embarrassing myself, I awake with a scream. My curtain is thrown open and Steele's face is in mine, checking me over. Prying into my personal space. I’m speechless. My body is shaking. From the embarrassment or the churning of my gut I haven't decided yet. I shove Steele out of my way and jump off the bunk running to the bathroom. My body smashes into another body, this one hard. It knocks me on my ass.
I don’t even glance to see who it was, I pick myself up and scurry to the bathroom. Locking the door I lift the toilet seat, pull my hair away from my face and vomit. I vomit until there is nothing left, my abdominal muscles cramping because of the heaving, my eyesight sprinkled with white dots from lack of oxygen.
Sweat dripping down my face, I stand up and turn the faucet on to the sink. Cupping water in both of my hands I splash the water upon my face letting it run down, mixing with my sweat. Looking in the mirror, the stranger I see, the sadness that consumes me, I know she is me. But I do not recognize her, not anymore.
Forcing myself to ignore my re
flection I spy someone’s toothpaste sitting on the small counter, since mine is currently in a zip-lock bag in the back bedroom I squirt a little onto my finger and rub the toothpaste along my teeth and over my tongue. Spitting out the toothpaste, trying to wash away the acidic taste in my mouth. Someone starts pounding on the door.
“Who is it?” I ask. No answer. Pounding resumes.
“What do you want?” No Answer.
Fuck this, I am the only woman on this damn bus the least they can give me is some semblance of privacy.
Whipping the door open, hand still in a fist, pounding ferociously it stops inches from my face.
“What! What is such an emergency, you could not wait until I was done?” I groan.
He doesn't say a word. He shoves me back, far enough back in this cramped bathroom, so that he can fit in here as well. Shutting and locking the door, he’s looking at me, eyes hard with not a trace of his usual smirk.
Clueless as to what I could have done I start attacking “You have no right coming in here, assuming you had permission. Who do you think you are?” There’s nowhere to move. I’m stuck. My back is up against the wall, the shower on my right, toilet on my left. He is near the sink, about a foot away from me and he’s inching closer. I’m stuck, watching his feet and waiting for a reply. I’m doing all I can not to look up.
I don’t want to know what he has to say. With the look he had on his face last it couldn't be anything good. His feet meet mine, and it’s as if I have no control over myself, he does this to me. I look up, into his eyes, no longer filled with anger, but lust? Shooting my eyes back down, to the ground, to our feet, where our toes are meeting. It’s impossible, there is no fucking way he is looking at me like that right now.
My body reacting, I feel goose bumps sprout all over my skin, my breathing picking up and I can barely disguise it. He angles his body even closer, still not touching I feel his breath on my ear.
“You my Minx, would do well remembering that this is my tour bus, so wherever I choose to be, whenever I want to be, I can.”
I shake. Anger replacing the hormonal reaction I was previously having now draining away.
This man must truly believe he is god, the all-fucking-mighty. I'll be damned if I let him think he can walk all over me. Reminding him I am not another piece on his long list of property he can run. “Oh, Steele.” I say, with a flirtatious roll of my eyes, drawing him in. I align my lips with his ear and whisper in “Babe, it really would be best for you to remember, you are the manipulative asshole who forced me to be here. Just because I am here does not mean, in any way shape or form, that I want to be here. That I want you or at any rate I even like you. Just, Leave. Me. Alone.”
He stands still. Still processing what I said. I shimmy against his side and leave the bathroom while he will still let me.
Keeping my emotions in tight rein, I put a smile on my face. The facade always holds people back from asking questions, not that anyone ever truly cares. It’s a show allowing some to put on an air of generosity and faking sincerity in caring what happens to you. No one gives a shit about the fucked up half-life I have lived for the past five years. Truth be told though, I fair pretty well with that.
It could be the guard I have around my heart that only Layla has ice picked her way into. Entering the back bedroom. I lean into the closed door, allowing myself to have a temporary mental breakdown. Tears begging to be released from my eyes, I permit them. Clutching the door like it’s my life raft, keeping me uprooted from falling to the floor in a severe panic attack.
As the shuddering of emotion leaves my body, my tears slowly start forming. I feel pressure against the door. Someone is trying to enter the room. I’m praying it isn't Steele. Not now. He would only stampede over my feelings. He’s not caring of anyone else but himself. I wipe my tears on the sleeve of my shirt just hoping that my eyes aren't as puffy and swollen red as they feel.
I recognize the face that slowly enters the door. Almost with a question as to whether he could enter or not. But as soon as he sees my face he grants himself that permission. Slowly closing the door behind himself he turns around to face me, he’s gorgeous and I laugh out loud at the irony of it all meanwhile I probably sound like a damn fool.
What are the chances, here I am still recovering from an emotional overload, crazily laughing and in walks the angel of sin in all his glory. Showing pity and kindness in his hazy green eyes, he holds out his arms to me offering comfort.
Without thinking, I wrap myself up in him. Relishing in the comfort, normally Layla would be that one, to hold me. But for now he will do. Anchoring me down, with his muscular arms I snuggle my face into his shirt, breathing him in. He smells of cinnamon and warmth. I wrap my arms around him, as far as I can reach and hold him tightly.
We say nothing to one another, an air of understanding interlacing between us, he holds tighter, squeezing me so close I don’t know where I end and he begins. We stand there for a while, giving each other our strength and holding our own weakness. My head lying on Sin's shoulder, the door is thrown open and my eyes interlock with none other than Steele.
Chapter 10
Steele
Twenty minutes earlier.... Laying in my bed, humming a tune that has been stuck in my head for days, I am trying to let the lyrics come to me. Song writing is a pretty long progress. How much do you want to reveal your inner struggles to your fans? Making yourself vulnerable to judgment, to people assuming they know what your song is about. You can write about any battle you have had in your life and just dismiss any ideas about it meaning something more with the swipe of your hand and a wink to a fan or reporter.
Many of the songs that my band has performed and laid down in the studio, I have written and every word is from experience. But when asked about the meanings behind the songs I always comeback with some smartass made up lie. Our drummer Jason also inputs songs on the regular. Some we've collaborated on. I can hear every instrument playing in my head but the lyrics just won’t come.
Giving up, I open my curtain and make my way to the ladder located at the end of my bed. I’m three beds high in the air. Even at six-two am not jumping to the ground. Fuck that. I would rather look like a pansy then possibly break a bone. Shits not fun and it hurts. Grabbing ahold of the steps on the ladder, I hear a shrill scream almost causing me to lose my grip and fall. I realize it’s from the Minx's' bunk.
Ripping open her curtain, she’s laying there on her bed sweat beading down her face, body shaking. She’s breathing. That's my main concern the other being what in the fuck had scared her. Not saying a word she shoves me back and jumps from the bed. Walking through Liam like a blockade in her path. She runs to the bathroom.
I’ll give her a few minutes. That is all though. For some reason her scream cut into my gut. I could feel the pure fear she had felt. Wanting to make sure that she will be alright I proceed to the bathroom. Turning the knob it refuses to budge. The Minx locked it.
Screw this. There is no way she is going to lock me out. She had to have known I would go chasing after her. I start pounding on the door repeatedly. Not giving in until she answers.
She yells to me “Who is it?”
Oh my Minx, you know who this is, I say to myself.
“What do you want?” she asks a little more angered now.
I’m not answering her. She’s playing a game. She knows who it is and she knows that I want to check on her.
She whips the door open as I am about to knock again for the hundredth time, I catch my fist right before it hits her in the face. I would never be able to forgive myself if I were to have accidently hit her.
“What! What is such an emergency you could not wait until I was done?” She’s pissed.
Probably because I witnessed a moment of weakness. A weakness that shows how vulnerable she really is. I push her in farther, so as to allow me to close the door. I don’t want everyone overhearing our conversation. I lock the door and turn back to face her. She looks like
a deer caught in the headlights. Frozen. Possibly not expecting me to lock the door, I’m not a God damn pervert. Her virtue is safe with me but she doesn't need to know that just yet.
She goes on the defense. Calling me out. That I don’t have permission to just shove my way into the bathroom, and something about not giving her privacy. I just drown her nonsense rambling out.
I stare at her, fully taking her all in. She’s a spitfire that's for sure. She won’t just take it and sit back down. Testing her limits I step closer and closer. Seeing how far she will let me go, at what point will she set a boundary. She is fucking gorgeous. Such pert little lips, I would love to glide my tongue over. To taste her. At this second, all I want to do is pull her body to mine, feeling her supple curves grinding against me.
I need to get the fuck out of here, leave right now. Before I make a big mistake, a mistake that the guys or I would never let myself live down. This Minx perceives to be an innocent, untouched by men yet completely broken. It’s not a wise or safe choice. But I can’t help wanting to rile her emotions, not retaining any control of myself I lean in as close as I can without touching her.
I whisper in her ear, also a sly move so I can smell her hair. “You my Minx, would do well remembering that this is my tour bus, so wherever I choose to be whenever I want to be I can.”
Fuck. Even I can hear the lust and implications in my voice. The scent of her hair, fruity coconuts is making my mouth water. If I thought she wouldn’t put up a fight I would bury my nose in deep and inhale.
I pull back, risking a glance in her eyes.
I shook her, not enough to crack her. Yet. But shook all the same.
“Oh Steele.” she says, flirtatiously.
I hate that she won’t say my name. Her tone has caught me off guard, did I go too far?