Her Song

30 - Shattered

**Kim**

Have I mentioned before how much I hate groupies? If not... I hate groupies.

I may have thought that our couple of weeks on the road in the UK had given me a good idea of what touring with a popular band would be like but I was wrong. So very, very wrong. The first single for Polarstar's new album had been released while we were still touring in the UK and that had generated enough interest that when the album had been released while we were in LA – the launch party had been eye opening - things had gone ballistic. And I hadn't expected it. Not one little bit. After all it wasn't like they were at Afterburn levels of fame. The reaction of fans and critics had me thinking that it wouldn't be long before they reached those peaks. I should have realised but I hadn't. And wasn't hindsight a bitch?

Something I hadn't expected was how exhausted touring would leave me. It was long periods of nothing on the bus followed by a frantic burst of activity when we reached our next destination. I thought that I'd been managing okay, grabbing a nap here and there but today it felt like everything had caught up with me. I didn't feel right in a way that was impossible to explain. Breakfast had held no appeal and I'd have preferred to stay in bed but Van had freaked out so much when I'd even hinted at staying behind that I'd forced myself to get up. I was determined to not give him a reason to worry or Lucy any excuse to say 'I told you so' not that I thought she'd say it to my face but it would be there etched in the lines of concern on her face and in the tone of her voice. I forced myself to order the eggs I had no intention of eating because wasting a plate of waffles would be sacrilegious.

By the time I'd forced myself to endure the first stop on the day's agenda, a radio interview, I had to concede defeat. I'd barely been able to deal with the gushing radio station PR girl without strangling her. She'd spent most of the interview eyeing Van up like a side of beef and her questions about his relationship with me had been borderline inappropriate. I felt so off that it was all I could do not to cry, if I was going to make it through the evening's show there was no way I could face an afternoon of groupies and fan-girls at the record store appearance.

After an afternoon in bed I was feeling marginally better but there was no way, not on your nelly, that I was going to miss the show. I was being paid, well I might add, to show up every night and help Lucy make sure things ran smoothly. Van may have been my boyfriend but I was determined not to just be a useless hanger-on.

Where did that determination leave me? Standing side stage clenching my fists in the futile hope that I wouldn't slap one of the numerous girls who'd managed to somehow score themselves back stage passes. The entire night was shaping up to be one giant cock up. Venue security left a lot to be desired and venue management? Let's just say that they'd have trouble organising a piss up in a brewery. Lucy and I had to be a lot more hands on than we had at any of the other venues and I was exhausted. In truth I'd have loved to do exactly what Lucy and Van had told me and head straight to the hotel and to bed. The exhaustion hadn't hit me so hard before and I couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be the way things were going to be for me for the rest of my pregnancy and if so how was I ever going to cope? And if I couldn't even cope with pregnancy how the hell was I going to cope with a baby?

In the end I couldn't even muster the energy to tell the music blogger who was stridently telling everyone who'd listen that given enough time she'd be riding Van like a bronco. I was all ready to slap her when I realised that my total lack of strength would put about as much force behind my slap as a tap from a kitten. Stubbornly refusing to admit my own weakness by heading to the hotel I made my way to the dressing room. The one room we'd managed to keep strictly off limits to the assorted groupies and hangers on. I gave a sigh of relief knowing that I would be alone.