How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Eight: The Python

"Ah, there you are," a voice said above me. I looked up to see Bon holding another drink in his hand, his hair a crazy mess. I was starting to think he just didn't own any shirts. Again I almost started crying at the sight of him. Not only did I have limited time in the past (probably), but I had limited time with Bon. After this I'd probably never see him again. And there he stood with his childlike grin and sparkling eyes. The real mischief man. "Writin' a lot, I hope?"

I flipped through the pages I had filled so far. Not a lot, but plenty for one day. Bon nodded approvingly. "Most of it is about Australia," I said. "But I've got some stuff about you too."

"Good, might read it sometime," he winked. I grinned. "You got in through there?" he pointed toward the door. I nodded. "That's the door the party goes through. Band," he pointed at himself. "Groupies," he pointed at me. "Dealers too, sometimes." He drank a bit. I tried to pretend like I knew all about that. Dealers? Psh. Of course I've met my fair share of them. I was all about the rock and roll scene. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, right? Bon narrowed his eyes at me. "You don't mess with drugs, do ya'?"

"No," I admitted. Unless you counted popping pills for cramps or allergies...

He smiled. "I didn't think ya' did. That's alright, jus' tell 'em to bug off, ya' know?" That's easy for you to say, Mr. Man... "They're not usually too persistent...most of the time."

Lovely.

"Listen, I've got some things to take care of so I'll be gone for a bit, yeah?" he asked. "Make yourself at home, have a snack, have a drink. There's water an' Coke over there since ya' don't like booze." He smiled. "Make some friends, open up!" With a wink of his eye he left the room. 

Making friends was not my forte. 

I wasn't exactly what you'd call "friendly". Not that I was mean or bitchy or anything. But I didn't bend over backwards to be nice either. Not something I loved about myself but I did shit to change it. I scribbled more notes down and kept an eye out for any other band members. Just the road crew and groupies. 

Would joining the road crew be a step up from groupies? Road crew gets paid. Groupies get...well, they pay for it, let's leave it at that. I was getting a bit thirsty again so I stood up to look for a drink of water. 

"Have as much as you want," a man said carrying two guitar cases under his arms. "Most people here want the harder stuff, hardly anybody's touched the water." I smiled politely and cracked the bottle open. It wasn't the coldest anymore but it still tasted good. The man set his things down and took a good look at me. "Have I seen you somewhere?" he asked. "Are you one of the regulars?"

"Sort of," I shrugged. I had been around once before, hadn't I? He wiped the sweat from his brow. 

"You look familiar. Must be one of those faces, I guess." I nodded. I wasn't sure whether to leave or keep standing there. It looked like he wasn't going anywhere. "Most of the ladies here only come for a few shows, a few of them are at every single one." 

"I'm new," I said. His face lit up.

"Great, good to see a new face around here. Things get drab on the road, ya' know? See the same old faces every night." That's not all you see, is it, sir? "What's your name?"

I seriously considered giving out a fake name again. Maybe I trusted Bon and the band with my real name but I didn't know this man. Surely the group only hired the best? The most honest and hardworking, trustworthy fellows a band could ask for?

I quickly blurted put the first thing that came to mind. "Gemini," I said, hoping it didn't sound stupid. The man looked at me with curiosity. 

"Gemini," he repeated. "That your sign?"