That Blue Gibson: Another Round

thirty-seven

Every time the door opened, Dave looked up. 

Guitar techs, drum techs, venue staff, some drunk girl in an Iron Maiden shirt... and then finally Rami and Josie stumbled in, drunker than he'd ever seen them and headed straight for the tiny bathroom just off the green room.

"Well... fuck," he muttered, tossing his pack of cigarettes to the table. That was the only room he knew of that had a study enough lock.

The door flew open again and she strode in arm and arm with Brody, that fucking bottle of whiskey still clutched in her hand.

"And that's my cue," Josh said excitedly, shoving himself out of the chair and bulldozing into a giggling Brody while tossing her over his shoulder and stomping out of the room.

Liz seemed disoriented now that she was alone, looking everywhere but at him before deciding to move to the bar. So Dave waited. He'd done some shots with Josh after ripping up the drums and was feeling more than a little buzzy, blatantly checking out the girl with the red hair and leather jacket that was popping open a beer.

He didn't notice the drum tech that was inching his way closer, shoving sticks into his pocket in an attempt to impress her and when Dave finally did notice, it was too late to interrupt so he settled back into the wooden chair to watch them. 

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the guy seemed harmless and she was smiling so he let it ride, watching out of the corner of his eye. 

*

"Need a drink?"

Liz looked up from her fresh beer at the unfamiliar man beside her with the endearingly nervous smile and held up the bottle. "Just grabbed one, thanks though."

"That was a pretty great show, right? Did you watch?"

"Yeah, I managed a rail spot for the first half," her smile faltered when he crowded into her side, but she stood firm on the stained carpet.

"Did you see Dave Grohl is here? Dave fucking Grohl! I got to be his drum tech!"

Liz bit her lip hard to keep from laughing and dutifully tried to appear as impressed as possible, "Oh my god, I love him! I'm such a big fan!" She set her beer on the table and angled her hip toward him, pulling her shirt and jeans aside to show off her tattoo. "Do you think he's back here? I wonder if he's as nice as they say he is."

"Shhhh!" his eyes went wide as he shushed her, anxiously glancing over her shoulder, "He's right behind you! Oh shit, here he comes."

"'Scuse me," that voice and his large hand on the dip of her back made her melt just a little as she shuffled aside so he could reach the bottle of Wild Turkey she'd left there.

"Hey, man," the tech chirped eagerly, "I'm such a huge fan. Ever since I was a kid, you've been..."

Liz stepped back a bit, removing herself from the conversation as inconspicuously as possible, but Dave's palm fell on her back again, his fingers digging in just enough to hold her in place while maintaining full attention on the gushing drum tech.

"Well, it's great to see you, man," Dave told him with an outstretched hand. "The kit felt great and I'll look you up if my guy ever finally decides he's sick of me."

Liz watched in amazement as the tech practically inflated with pride, vigorously shaking Dave's hand with an almost tearful thank you.

"That was very nice of you," she whispered as Dave led her away.

"The snares were loose, but that's no reason to call him out in front of the girl he's trying to fuck, Nikki."

"He wasn't-" Liz glanced back just in time to see the tech's face go from elated to confused when he realized Dave had walked off with the girl he'd just been talking to. "... oh."