by Emma Lea
Jace was practically mobbed. The girls and young women in the crowd all wanted a piece of him. He looked a little stunned at first but it didn’t take long for him to find that smooth groove that all cocky male stars had. He even swaggered a little as he walked and it made Stevie smile. Jace was the last person she would have ever expected to be affected by a little fan adoration. He was nothing like Nate. Nate lapped up attention like a man starved, but Jace had never been like that. For Jace, it was all about the music. It seemed though that it only took a few flashes of bare breasts and whispered promises for Jace to morph into the stereotypical rock star.
Nadine and Vanessa had their own special crowd of male groupies. It had been the same at the Apple Orchard Festival and yet it still seemed weird to Stevie. Groupies, in her mind, referred to women, but there couldn’t be another word for the young men who crowded around the sisters. The girls lapped it up and it reminded Stevie that they would need to have a band meeting to firm up some rules about bringing company on the bus. The last thing Stevie wanted was to wake up and find strangers in her personal space. They wouldn’t have much privacy on this tour and Stevie was determined to jealously guard as much of it as possible.
As for Stevie, she had her own fans. A nice mix of men and women. She was probably the most conservative of the group, although she had always pegged Jace as the grown-up. After seeing the way he came alive under the attention of his fans, Stevie suddenly felt old and like she was now the grown-up and that was reflected in the people who clamored for her attention. Sure, she got slips of paper with names and cell phone numbers scrawled on them from the men who asked for her autograph or picture, but it was the young girls who drew most of her attention. They looked at her like some sort of goddess who could give them the secrets of the universe. These were young girls who dreamed of being singers just like her, and Stevie remembered her own days of hero worship. Rather than hyping her up like it did to the other members of her band, it made her all too aware of the influence - good or bad - she could have on these impressionable young minds. It was sobering. She tried to speak to as many of them as possible and encourage them in their pursuit of their dreams. It was important to her that she keep her humanity and never forget that it was the fans that made her job possible. Without them she would be nothing. She did not want to turn into some aloof and pretentious celebrity that disdained the fans who had made her successful.
Wow. That was a really arrogant thing to think. Stevie shook her head at herself. The band had one hit, that was it so far, and here she was thinking that she was some megastar. Maybe she wasn’t so unaffected by the adoring attention of her fans as she thought. This could be nothing but a flash in the pan. They were number one today, but it didn’t mean they would be number one forever. She just had to look at Nate and what happened to his career to know that it wasn’t as easy as having a few good hits. She had to look at the long game. They had a good, solid album that would do well, but they couldn’t get caught up in the short-term success. They needed to keep writing. When this tour was finished they would need to get back into the studio and start recording again. This was not the time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labor. That would come later. Much later.
Marci arrived with a couple of the burly security guards from the venue and the crowd started to disperse. Stevie felt exhausted and all she wanted to do was crawl back into her bunk for a couple of hours of shut-eye. Unfortunately she was the only one. The girls and Jace seemed energized by all the people and she knew they had a long afternoon of rehearsals. At least she would be able to sleep tonight and she would be far too busy to think of Nate and wonder what he was doing. He had just had his first number one song in a couple of years, how would he celebrate?
She closed her eyes and forced the thought out of her mind. She didn’t want to know. She could imagine and in her imagination it involved a bevy of beauties. With a growl she turned her thoughts to something else. The last thing she wanted to do was think about Nate fucking a gaggle of only-too-eager groupies as a way to celebrate his being back on top. And just like that, her good mood evaporated. It was just like that saying; when you tell yourself not to think of an elephant, what do you do? Think of a fucking elephant. The vision of Nate being ridden by an enthusiastic bimbo was now firmly lodged in her brain and she would be lucky to think of anything else. Shit.
Chapter Thirteen
“Holy shit, Mabel!” Nate yelled. “What the fuck was that?”
Nate had been mobbed before, plenty of times, but it had never felt like that. He was seriously wondering how he managed to get through the pack of fans without losing an appendage that was dear to him. So many grasping hands, with sharp nails to boot, had left him feeling a little shaken.
“That,” Mabel said triumphantly, “was you being back on top! ‘No Good for Me’ is at number one for the second week running. How does it feel to be a star again?” She wiggled her ass as she pranced around like she was the champion of the world.
Nate growled and looked around for Wade. The man stood silently by, his arms crossed over his chest but his normal affable expression was gone and in its place was a thundercloud.
“You are endangering my client,” he said to Mabel.
Nate had never heard him use that tone of voice before and obviously neither had Mabel. She stopped her happy dance and stared at him like she didn’t know who he was.
“It was just a few fans,” she said. “Nate’s used to it.”
“Look at him!” Wade said taking a step closer and letting his arms fall to his sides. “His t-shirt is ripped and he has scratches on his face.”
Mabel turned to look at Nate and her eyes widened. “They did that?”
“Yeah,” Nate said and then lifted the tattered remains of his shirt to show her the damage on his chest and back. “And this.”
“Holy fuck,” she breathed. She looked between them, her face pale, her eyes wide. Then her eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed. “Those stupid little bitches,” she growled and if Nate hadn’t been so pissed off with her he would have laughed at the fierceness in her voice.
“What? You thought they were just caressing me gently while they almost trampled me in the mob?” Nate asked.
She looked at him and shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
Wade shook his head with a hissed curse and Nate glared at her.
“It will look good on the news,” she said sheepishly. “All publicity is good publicity, right?”
“Fuck,” Wade swore again. This was the most upset Nate had ever seen the guy. “We need security for the next gig, Mabel,” he said and his tone brooked no argument. “This gets on the news and every fan will think they can get an up-close-and-personal with Nate. We need to protect him.”
“Frankie,” Nate said. “Frankie was my guy. I don’t know if he worked for Rocksteady or was a freelance type guy, but he was the best. I want Frankie and I don’t care what I have to pay to get him.”
“Do you still have his number?” Wade asked.
Nate fumbled around his trailer until he found his phone and flicked through his contacts. He found Frankie’s number and messaged it to Wade’s phone.
“I’ll get on it,” Wade said, pulling out his phone and leaving the trailer.
When the door opened the fans screamed and then it died when they realized it wasn’t Nate.
“You,” Nate said, pointing a finger at Mabel. “You need to fix that.” He pointed to the fans outside.
“What the hell am I supposed to do about it?”
“Get rid of them,” he said. “I don’t fucking care how.”
“Won’t they just,” she shrugged, “go away by themselves?”
“No they won’t,” Nate said through gritted teeth, “and a couple of them may even try to break in here.”
The words had barely left his mouth when they heard the sound of someone trying to jimmy the lock on the door.
“Fuck,” Mabel breathed, pulling out her phone.
Nate shook his head as he pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it towards the bin - he wouldn’t be wearing that again. That had been brutal. He’d never had to face a pack of ravaging groupies without security before. It was hard to be grateful for the resurgence of his fan base when it meant he would have to face scenes like that. To them he wasn’t a person, he was a talisman. Like the blarney stone or that statue that people travelled miles just so they could touch the feet. They didn’t want to get to know him, they didn’t really want him at all. They just wanted the experience of touching someone famous. He hadn’t realized that the first time around when he shot to stardom from relative obscurity.
He thought all those people wanted to meet him because his music meant something to them, that he had touched their soul in some way. Some of them did feel like that, but the overwhelming majority didn’t give a fuck about the music, they just wanted a piece of him because he was a rock star. He could have been anybody, a faceless, nameless deity, it didn’t matter to them. They just wanted to fuck him and walk away saying they’d screwed a rock star. For a while he was happy to oblige them, but waking up with multiple women in his bed and not even knowing how he ended up there had felt hollow. Now that he had experienced what it was like to be with someone that he loved, he couldn’t go back to that. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it. Being mobbed tonight hadn’t felt good, it hadn’t stroked his ego. He’d felt hemmed in and hunted, like an animal. Now he just wanted to shower and remove the taint that he felt all over his skin from the many women who’d touched him like they had a right to. What he wouldn’t give to have Stevie here so that he could sink into her arms and have her soothe away the hurt.
He sighed. There was no use thinking like that. He had let her go - set her free, as that stupid saying went. But he knew she wouldn’t come back to him. His luck wasn’t that good.
“Frankie,” Nate said later that night.
They did a man-hug with lots of backslapping. Nate was glad to see him. The guy had always looked after him even when he was at his worst.
“I didn’t know whether you’d still be able to work for me,” Nate said when they parted.
“I don’t work for Gina,” he said, “I always worked for you.”
Nate grinned, he couldn’t help it. It was good to see the guy.
Frankie turned serious. “So, tell me what’s going on?”
Nate shrugged as he flopped down on the bench seat. They would be leaving this town in the morning and heading to the next festival. He didn’t even know where this town was or where they were going next. He didn’t need to know, he left that to his team. He just wanted to play. Being back on the circuit, even though he wasn’t playing stadiums, had renewed his love of performing and his stage fright was practically non-existent now. He felt good for the first time in a long time - apart from the gaping hole in his chest from having to walk away from Stevie.
“We had some trouble this afternoon,” Wade said, sitting down with them. Mabel was off somewhere doing god-knows-what. The woman never seemed to sit still.
Nate shrugged. “A few rabid fans. I got a bit pushed around and scratched up. They ruined my favorite t-shirt.”
“They got close enough to get hands on you?” Frankie said, his eyes narrow.
“The venue told us they had security covered and we honestly didn’t think it was going to be a problem,” Wade said.
“And then the new single hit number one,” Nate added. “None of us were prepared for the fallout.”
“Nate, man, you know how dangerous this shit can be. Anybody could have stuck you with a needle filled with fucked up shit.” He paused and Nate watched the muscle in his jaw jump. “Did anyone get inside the trailer?”
Nate shook his head. “They tried but venue sent security over to disperse the crowd. I think they got the cops involved too. It was just so unexpected that no one was prepared for it.”
“And that’s why you have me. We won’t be caught out again. I’m going to bring a team with me, you okay with that?”
“It’s just festivals, Frankie,” Nate said.
“Yeah, but you’re not really the ‘just festivals’ kind of performer. It’s better if we nip this in the bud now before it gets too out of hand.”
Nate sighed. This was the bit he hated, but after this afternoon’s debacle he wasn’t willing to risk something like that happening again.
“Fine,” he said.
Frankie nodded and left with Wade, leaving Nate alone. He flicked on the television and Stevie’s face appeared on the screen. Nate sat up and leaned forward, drinking in the sight of her. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes wishing he could be with her, near enough to touch her. He turned up the volume as the picture switched to a wide shot of her and the rest of her band being surrounded by fans. The reporter was saying something about them being mobbed when they arrived at their new venue and how the crowd numbers for the concert had swelled after their song had hit number one. He only had eyes for her and the way she tried to greet every fan. She was surrounded with starry eyed pre-teens and she smiled at them and signed autographs. Nate clenched his fists when he saw the young guys surround her, but nothing bad happened. Jealousy still coursed through him at the thought of them putting their hands on her.
The picture switched again and it showed his own mobbing. God. He hadn’t even known there were reporters there, although it looked to be more like cell-phone footage. He turned the channel to something else and picked up his phone. The need to call Stevie to make sure she was safe was strong. He flicked his phone around in his hand a couple of times trying to decide what he should do.
“Fuck it,” he said.
Nate tapped out a short text message.
Nate: Hey. Just saw you on TV. Things got a bit hairy for you…are you okay?
He stared at the screen for a while and when he didn’t get a response straight away, he tossed his phone and got to his feet. He needed to do something - run or write or fuck. Fucking was out. The only body he wanted near his was Stevie and she was miles away and currently not speaking to him. He didn’t think his body could sit still long enough to write, so running it was. He wandered to his bedroom at the back of the trailer and stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt, pulling on some running shorts and a tank. He grabbed a cap and pulled it low over his head and stuck his earbuds in his ears, tucking his phone in the little inside pocket of his running shorts.
When he stepped out of the trailer, he looked around for Wade and Frankie, but he couldn’t see either of them. He wanted to just take off, but he had learned his lessons about ditching his security and it wasn’t worth it. Instead he pulled out his phone and text them both telling them he was going for a run. He was pretty sure Frankie still had an app on his phone to track Nate, so he wasn’t worried too much.
He set off at an easy pace. He had been running so much lately that his body relaxed into the rhythm and the pounding of his feet on the pavement was somewhat calming. He played Stevie’s album in his ears, letting her sweet voice slide over him, filling all the hollow places that she’d left behind. He missed her more than he could even understand. This whole being in love thing was so new to him. He really didn’t think it would hurt so much, despite the songs he wrote. He’d never really experienced being in love before. Now lust, that was something he could understand. But being in love with Stevie had shown him that lust was like a cubic zirconia. At first glance it looked like the real thing but it wasn’t until you put it next to a real diamond that you could see the difference. Now that he knew the difference, he couldn’t go back.
Stevie stared at the text from Nate, not really sure what to do. She’d seen him get mobbed too and his looked way worse than what had happened to her. She was pretty sure she saw women pulling bits of his hair out and tearing strips off his t-shirt. And he hadn’t looked to be enjoying it.
She sighed and flopped back on her bed. The afternoon had turned to shit after they were mobbed. The rehearsal went badly and Jace and Nadine were at each other’s throats the entire time. Stevie could see that Nadine wanted more. She wanted to be up front more, she wanted to sing more and maybe do some extended solos on her violin. But Jace would have none of it. He didn’t like change. He was meticulous in his planning and although they all thought it was completely anal, their shows always ran smoothly. Nadine’s argument was that sure, the shows ran smoothly, but there was no room for improv or spontaneity. Every show was the same as the last and if they didn’t mix things up a bit, their fans would get bored. Stevie kind of agreed, although she could see both sides of the argument. When she’d tried to find a compromise they had both shouted her down, so she had backed off. Vanessa had looked on sadly but hadn’t tried to intervene.
Things since then had been strained. Everyone had retreated to their respective corners and there was a heavy mood on the bus. Not the ideal way to spend the night before a concert. What Stevie didn’t understand was, why was this happening now? They had been playing together - informally - for a long time and had been together as a real band for a year. None of this had happened before. Jace could be a pain in the ass with his meticulous planning, but Nadine had never challenged him so adamantly before. They argued all the time, but Stevie had always felt it was just normal sibling bickering. This afternoon had been different. Their exchange had been heated and explosive. And there had been no resolution. They still didn’t have a set list and they hadn’t practiced more than one song in the arena. Tomorrow’s sound check was going to be brutal.