So Close (a James Hetfield story)

Chapter 9

"So who are the other bands, anyone worth checkin' out?" I asked as I took a small sip of beer.

Lars, James and Dave all snorted in disgust, so I had my answer.

"Bunch of fuckin' posers," Lars sneered as he looked to the stage where the first band was getting ready.

I followed his gaze and could see the band was definitely more of the glam metal variety that was so popular in the L.A. area. I didn't understand the girls who swooned for those kind of guys; eye liner and sparkly shirts weren't really my cup of tea, but more importantly, most of the music was gimmicky and unoriginal. Of course, maybe I was a little biased towards the type of guy who didn't try so hard to get noticed, but got it anyway because of his talent. I hid a smile behind my beer as I took another sip and watched the first act get underway.

A few songs in and I had made up my own mind. They were pretty much the way Lars had described, though their lead singer was actually good, even if their original songs were bland and repetitive. I preferred when they stuck to covers, though I could tell James and the rest of the guys were not impressed. Eventually the first group finished their set, and the guys started to head backstage to get their equipment and instruments set up. James waited while I grabbed my beer from the bar and then we followed the rest. He didn't like leaving me by myself during gigs, and since Hugh was helping with their gear during their performance, I was stuck sitting on the wings. I didn't mind really, and it warmed me a little to know that Jamie was concerned for my well-being.

Stepping into the dim interior of the backstage, it took me a moment to process the chaos as the venue's roadies helped pull gear off the stage while simultaneously setting up the equipment for Metallica. I quickly lost track of James and tried my best to stay out from under foot. Stepping back quickly to avoid two guys carrying a large amp, I backed into something solid. 

"Hey, watch where you're..."

I turned to find that I'd bumped into the lead singer of the band I'd just watched, and though he'd seemed irritated at first, the words seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat as he gazed down at me. He was actually pretty good looking up close.

"I'm sorry," I started to apologize, "I wasn't lookin'..."

"No, no, I shouldn't have been so quick to act like an asshole," he interrupted, seemingly eager to excuse me of any wrongdoing. "Of course you didn't mean to bump into me, I'm sure it was probably my fault."

"I doubt that, but thanks for takin' the fall."

I grinned then, surprised at how easily I was flirting; there was hope for me yet.

"Yeah well"—he leaned in closer as his voice dropped down a few octaves—"I'm pretty sure I'd do just about anything to put a smile on that beautiful face."

Ugh, that was a clunker. I didn't let my disappointment show though as I maintained a neutral smile.

"Well, I should go find my friends."

"Do you have to?"

He was giving me his puppy dog eyes but I was surprisingly immune.

"I do. They're goin' on soon and I wanna wish them luck."

"Wait, you're here with Metallica?"

I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing in his eyes.

"Yeah, they're the friends I was talkin' about."

"Friends? Those guys are friends of yours?"

"Yep. I've known James and Ron since we were kids."