So, now that you're all caught up...
"Stop it!" I hissed, planting my feet firmly on the ground in the hopes of stopping Jess from going any further. She froze for a minute, looking back at me like there was something wrong with me. "We're gonna get caught!"
She grasped my wrist tighter in her own, and led me forward, down the long corridor. "Yeah, if you don't shut up we are," she replied.
I continued to trudge along behind my older sister, scared out of my mind. I've never done anything 'bad' before. Does sneaking 'backstage' count as something bad?
I've decided sneaking backstage does, as a matter of fact, count as bad.
Suddenly we stopped short. Jess was hissing in my ear, "Don't say a word. Act like you belong here."
I had an out-of-body experience as I walked past Cub Koda from Brownsville Station. I could smell him. Oh my God. "C'mon!" she hissed, dragging me along. He nodded in my general direction with a smile. I waved stupidly.
"Jess..." I breathed. "Cub Koda just winked at me."
"Great," she said, not really listening. We continued walking until we came to a series of doors. The backstage area was surprisingly empty. It was weird being in a dark, empty high-school. The long, white-brick hallways were a bit ominous and scary, but I was glad there weren't any more people. Until I heard the click of footsteps and laughter, that is. Jess heard them too. "Shit," she said. I wonder if she regrets her decision.
She scanned the many doors, debating which to choose. The first one she tried was locked, as was the second and third. "C'mon," she hoped, turning the handle to the fourth. It slid open with ease. Jess sighed in relief and rushed inside. "Charlie! Get in here!" she whispered. I was frozen. There he was. There they were. Aerosmith.
Jess apparently didn’t realize I wasn’t following her, and that I was literally frozen in my tracks. She shut the door behind her, and I heard a little gasp as she realized too late that she was alone and I was locked out.
I’m so dead.
I flattened myself against the wall, trying the handle a few times. It didn’t move. Shit. Maybe if I stay close enough to the wall they won't notice me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if I couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see me. Act like you belong. Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible.
“Yeah, I’ll be in in a minute,” said a raspy voice. I didn’t open my eyes. I felt the whoosh of air as they walked past. But someone stopped. Right next to me. I peeked through my right eye at who it was.
Oh my God. It’s the lead. He tries the door handle, either ignoring me or not noticing me.
No, he sees me. He’s looking at me. Oh God help me. He stopped trying the handle, muttering a swear word under his breath.
My terror on my face was apparent. He looked at me straight on. “Hello,” he said slowly, unsure.
I couldn’t breathe. I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it! I glance at the door, hoping Jess will come save me. She doesn’t. Looks like I gotta do this one myself, then. I try to say ‘hi,’ but a rush of air comes out.
He’s only a person, dummy. Speak! “Don’t you talk?” he asks, trying the door handle again. Another rush of air. “Well, no need,” he says, taking the towel from around his neck and wiping his face. I am the luckiest person in the whole United States of America. He knocks on the door. “Goddammit,” he mutters. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He paces away, to another door. He goes in, returning moments later with a tight black shirt advertising the Yardbirds. He likes the Yardbirds? He leans against the wall, studying me. “The band is that way,” he says, taking a drag from a joint he brought with him. He points behind him with his thumb over his shoulder, not looking away from me.
“Okay.” I spoke! Yes! One thing you should know: when I’m nervous or feeling awkward or something a get really, really sardonic. It’s gotten me in trouble quite a few times, actually.
“So... Shouldn’t you be over there?” he asks.
I blink. Who does he think I am?
The handle turns. Jess. Thank God. She heard him ask shouldn’t you be over there? apparently. He took a step back with a grin when he saw Jess, probably thinking, Now that’s more like it!
Jess smiles. “What do you mean?” she asks. Jess was wearing a hot-pink tube-top with the sinfamous (like my word-play?) high-waisted, short black skirt.
“Where’d you come from?” he asks, blowing some smoke from his lips. At least he had the courtesy to blow it away from me. The stench still made me gag, though.
Jess smiles. “Around.” She’s such a flirt. Can’t I have just one?
The guy nods slowly. I roll my eyes, feeling better now that my sister was by my side. “I mean, we say that all girls go to the band’s room, not hang around the hallways. Did they tell you guys the wrong number or am I just that lucky?”
Oh my god. He thinks we’re groupies. Jess, yes. Me, no. I look worriedly back and forth from Jess to the lead singer. His eyes are boring into me.
“I think we got the wrong number,” Jess says sweetly.
“Yeah, okay. C’mon,” he says, leading us to the door he disappeared in to change his shirt a few minutes ago. I noticed each door had a number. The one I was frozen in front of was 105. The band’s was apparently 107.
“What’re you doing?” I breathed into Jess’s ear as he led us down the hall.
“Acting like I belong here,” she whispers back. “and you best do it too unless you want to get arrested!”
“If the cops show up I’m done for either way!” I argue. “I’m seventeen, pretending to be a stripper I guess, and they’re all stoned!”
“Just–”
“Here we are. One-oh-seven, not five,” he says, oblivious to our conversation. He holds the door for us.
Music, the stench of smoke–not cigarette–the smell of alcohol, and the sound of talking and laughter resonates through my brain. Jess steps in, I follow. He shuts the door behind us. I feel kinda bad not knowing his name. Jess didn’t care either way. She just went to concerts to get drunk and meet guys.
An attractive fellow (shit, they’re all attractive) with long black hair offered me a bottle of alcohol. I took it because I was too awestruck to decline. I didn’t drink it though, I merely gave it to Jess.
“We need to leave,” I whispered. “Now.”
Jess took a sip of the crummy beer. Then she smiled. “Don’t be such a drag. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for a little...” She stalked away, over to the one that gave me my drink.
I stood nervously in the doorway, unsure what to do. The frontman seemed to take an interest in me, though I’m not sure why. He came over, sipping at a beer, which I eyed cautiously. “Never seen a beer?” he asked. I try to smile like, what am I, stupid? but it probably made me look even more stupid. “Don’t you want any?” I shook my head timidly, eyes wide. “Just try a little,” he urged. “You’ll love it.”
“I–I can’t,” I managed to say.
“Why not?” he pouted. His pout was irresistible. How old is he? “One sip. You won’t regret it.” He hands the bottle to me, but I don’t take it. “Promise,” he adds.
“I can’t,” I say again.
He laughs. “I know,” he says. Why is he laughing? He pulls me aside with an arm around my waist, and sits down on top of one of the desk tables. I stand uncomfortably next to him. He looks confused. “You can sit, you know.”
I can? Oh, right, yeah, I can. Sit, Charlie. I sit on the table next to him. It just now registered that he said I know.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he says grabbing a Coke out of nowhere. He pops the tab. “I hope you like this...” he mutters, giving it to me.
I smile shyly. I do like Coca Cola. I take a sip, thankful for something to do. He’s watching me expectantly as if awaiting my approval. Oh, he asked me my name. Do they do that? I didn’t know musicians asked for a groupie’s name before they went and slept with them. Either than or they just forget them. I wonder it I should lie, in case this issue gets busted by the cops– Wait! I’m a groupie! I’ve gotta sleep with him! I can’t do that, I can’t! I probably should lie, even though I’m horrible at it.
I think quickly. “Penny,” I say quietly.
“Penny,” he repeats. “I’m the Walrus.” He smiles again. I get lost. What was he saying?
“The Walrus?” I ask stupidly. Is that really his name?
The Walrus chuckles. “I thought we were naming songs,” he finishes. He points to the guy that gave me my first drink. “That’s Joe, over there’s Brad, then Joey, and lastly Tom.” He points behind me to the blond one that played the bass.
The Walrus gets up and motions for me to follow him to the hallway. I do as I’m told, all the while looking for Jess. She was with the man I was told was Joe. I’m not leaving anytime soon. The Walrus closes the door behind him and leans against the wall in the hall, sinking to the floor and bringing his knees to his chest. I do likewise.
“You said Penny?” he asked quietly.
“Ch– Uh, yeah. Penny.”
“Penny.” He smirked. “Do you know a barber, miss Penny?”
“I don’t...” I say, returning the smile, knowing this could mean one of two things: I’m busted and done for, or he’s flirting with me. And because I’m me, it’s highly likely that it is not the latter.
“Is that so?” he asks, still quiet. He scoots closer to me. I want to scoot away but can’t; it’d be rude. “Do you know a banker?”
“I do, actually,” I say smartly. Sarcastic when I’m nervous. Very sarcastic. “But he's quite strange. He doesn’t wear a mack in the rain.”
“What the fuck is a mack?” The Walrus asks.
I giggle with a shrug. “And I also know a fireman.”
The Walrus has a really good British accent (it might’ve given me goosebumps, though I’m not sure why): “And in the middle of the roundabout–you know the place. Yeah. Behind the shelter, right?”
I laugh again.
“Right, so the nurse is selling poppies from a tray.”
“Oh yeah, the shelter,” I reply, making a complete fool of myself by attempting a British accent. It fails miserably, but I don’t seem able to stop. “The nurse is pretty, right?” The Walrus–who looks nothing like a Walrus–laughs at this. “She feels like she’s in a play.”
And at the same time, we sing in our accents (mine sounding more like an Indian man who spent several years in the South eating home-style BBQ), “She is anyway.”
He’s laughing like this is the funniest thing he’s ever done. He grips my upper arm with his hand and places his forehead on my shoulder, nearly dying of laughter.
I figure, what’s the harm, and laugh too. We laugh to the point where The Walrus is wiping tears from his eyes.
Suddenly, some guy is standing in front of us frowning with his arms folded. “It’s midnight. We gotta boogie,” he said.
The Walrus's smile faded. I was blushing a little. “What?” The Walrus asked.
“You guys are gonna trash the joint and they’ll never want us back!” the guy, I’m assuming their manager, said.
The Walrus sighed. “Well, you can tell them that. I’m not gonna be the fuckin’ lightweight that says we gotta book, man.”
The manager sighs and goes into the room.
The Walrus turns back to me with a sigh. “So, Penny,” he says, “how’d you guys get back here?”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re not a groupie,” he states.
I look down in shame, staring at the red can in my hands. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. My sister dragged me back here and she heard you guys coming. She hid, but I was like frozen. And then you saw us and Jess tried to convince you that we were groupies, and well...” I felt the need to explain. “I’m sorry.”
The Walrus smiles, placing a hand under my chin so that I look back up into his eyes. “No need to apologize,” he says sweetly. I blush. “I had a feeling something like that happened.”
I smirk. “What tipped you off?”
He shrugs. “A lot. You’re like eight years old, never had a drink, never done a line, hmm... Oh, I heard your guys’ secret conversation while I was showing you the way.” He grins.
“Seventeen,” I correct.
“So, miss Penny, can I get you anything? Do you need a ride home? Another Coke?”
I asked for another Coke, telling him my sister was gonna take me home. When he returned seconds later with my Coke and one for himself, he sat back down and popped both tabs. Before handing one to me, he said, “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“Uh, no,” I say quietly.
“You’re friend does,” he says with a chuckle. He hands me the Coke. “You can come back with us. That’s probably what your friend’ll do. She’s a bit busy right now, though.”
I try not to be disgusted. “She’s my sister,” I say.
He shakes his head. I really wish I knew his real name. The manager walks out of the room followed by several unhappy looking people. “C’mon,” the manager says. “Let’s head out.”
I walk with The Walrus out to an old van. He opens the door for me. “What about my sister’s car?” I ask.
The Walrus frowns and goes over to his manager. When he returns, he takes my hand and says, “Where’s you car?”
I lead him to Jess’s car, and I get in the passenger seat. I’m a horrible driver. “Steven!” the manager yells across the parking lot. “Just follow us–don’t go anywhere else, yeah?”
“Whatever!” The-Walrus-who-probably-isn’t-really-named-The-Walrus yells back, getting into the drivers' seat. “It’s a short ride,” he explains to me.
“Don’t break my sister’s car,” I warn tiredly, already yawning.
“Okay, Penny,” he says. Not even ten minutes down the road and I’m asleep.
--
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A/N: I'm not really sure why out of all the Beatles songs I picked I Am the Walrus for Steven, but... Yeah, that's about it. I've got a few more parts written for this, but let me know if you guys like it or not. I suppose, yes, this is kind of a typical start for some books–the sneaking and lying and whatnot–but I like it and I hope you like it too. Okay, that's all for now and I will add conflicts very, very soon!