The Song

Part Forty-Seven

Holding my hand tightly in his own, Aston led me into the club he was performing in. There were a few paparazzi around and I did my best to keep my head down and not give anything away. They still had no idea there was anything wrong with me, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Wanna come back to our dressing room?” Aston asked.

“What? Is the other option you leave me alone in a practically empty club?”
“Yeah.”

“Well then I’m coming!” I squeaked, following him through a door and to the back hallway of the club. There was a little dressing room where the other boys were already sat, chatting away.

“Hey guys,” I said, sitting on the arm of a sofa.

“Hey Jess! Surprised to see you out,” Marvin said.

“I want to see you guys perform,” I grinned, “I haven’t yet… and it’s been months.”

“Wow, really?” JB asked.

“I really haven’t.”

“I guess we haven’t had many gigs lately,” JB shrugged.

I gave him a smile and then took a drink from Aston, who’d been stirring me a cocktail all the while. “Now don’t interpret this as me letting loose or something,” I scolded, “I’m not here to get plastered.”

“Mmm hmm, yup,” Aston replied off-handedly, blatantly disregarding what I said.

Rolling my eyes I slid down into the sofa and watched the boys go through their vocal warm ups, sipping on my drink slowly. The club, meanwhile, was filling up quickly and about twenty minutes before the boys were supposed to go on I was escorted out to their VIP table. It was on a raised tier above the main floor of the club and I had a clear view of the stage, which was perfect because I really didn’t want to be pushing out into the crowd.

I sat and carefully eyed up the crowd, trying to get a feel for the type of people who were at this thing. It was all sorts of people though, no one type in particular.

“Hey! Pretty girl! Why you alone?” a voice called down from the floor.

I ignored it, my eyes trained on the stage.

It wasn’t the only catcall I got that evening, and as the boys went on I was thankful to have something to distract me from the jeers. Were all LA clubs like this? Weird American men…

As the boys performed a few songs I couldn’t help but grin. In my memory I’d never seen them live before, it wasn’t really the type of thing I’d go for, but I liked this. It was energetic and you could tell they were enjoying themselves. And that was all that mattered.

“Pretty girl!” a voice called as soon as the boys went off stage.

“I’m married!!” I shouted back, thankful that I actually was.

“Who cares? Come dance!”

“Leave me alone!”

I finally spotted the guy, he was a burly dude with an unshaven face. Not really my type.

“Come down!!!” he called again, just as the boys slipped out of nowhere and over to the table I was sitting at.

“What’s going on?” Aston asked.

“That guy is shouting at me.”

“Why?”

“I think he thinks he’s hitting on me…” I said, as Aston slid in next to me.

“Do you want me to go beat him up?” Aston teased, his arm going protectively around my shoulders as he looked down at the club floor.

“No, just don’t leave me again tonight… I hate clubs.”