Radiant Eclipse

I slammed my hand to my face as a voice sang out near by, calling my name in a low bass register vocal. Grumbling to myself, I rolled over as much as the small tour bus bed would allow one to roll, pulling one of my pillows out from in between my legs to hold it over my head. The voice was sweet and lovely, don't get me wrong, but my head pounded and I wanted nothing more than to just sleep the rest of my life away.

"Vickie," whispered Brad into my ear, light streaming through what had to be the now-opened curtain of my cramped personal space, the flesh of my closed eyelids glowing red. I chose to go for the I-can't-hear-you act and staid put to where I was curled up in a ball as cold hands on my lower back caused me to jump and practically knock myself out on the top bunk.

"Damn it, Brad," I groaned unhappily, rolling over to face him and the direction of the sunlight. Rubbing my eyes painfully, I asked, "Why the hell am i awake, now? wake me up when the sun starts to fall and we've got an hour to go on stage.

"You do have an hour to go on stage," Brad laughed as I stared at him blankly. "That's the stage lights you're looking at outside. We're here, in Los Angeles. Just this concert and we can go on home to real beds and real life for a few weeks."

"Fuck my life," I said to myself, rolling out of bed and onto my feet, my red laced bra from the night before as my top, and my bottoms only a pair of black short shorts. Brad, James, Connor, Derek and David have seen me half nude hundreds of times, and they were all happily married, so we didn't have any attraction level whatsoever.

I quickly washed my face before adding foundation to my tan complexion, hair already poofy on top and long and thinned at the bottom, with no need to straighten it. With thick black eyeliner and lengthy eyelashes volumized by mascara, I only adjusted the ring in my eyebrow and decided to roam for something to wear in the back room of the bus where my suitcase lied. I tugged on a skin-tight pair of black spandex pants and knee-length black suede boots. Without changing my bra I pulled on a tight halter leather top, breasts bulging against the seams gracefully and attractively.

Brad handed me my Warlock bass as I stepped off of the tour bus, the lights of the outdoor stadium blocking out the view of the night sky, the air arm with the touch of spring as I whipped around to follow the guys towards the stage.

Brad was the drummer of our band Slaves of Bathory; James the lead guitar; Connor on keyboards; and Derek and David on back up and second lead guitar interchangeably.

They walked along at least ten feet ahead of me as I held my bass by the middle of the neck, the strap securely around my upper body as I walked with my head lowered. I could hear the sounds of the fans, and the hum of excitement that they all brought with them, but I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted to go home to my house in Huntington Beach, lock the doors behind me, crawl into a ball on the bed, and die of starvation.

As I climbed the steps to back stage, Derek wrapped his arm around me, the scent of men's deodorant truly evident as he said, "this is going to be so sweet! Fucking awesome here."

"It'll be sweet when it's over and done with," I disagreed, nudging his arm off of me as we took our placed in a line off stage, the lights suddenly cutting into darkness. I was always saved for last, and as I watched one band member after another run on stage, I kept thinking about running the opposite direction, away from what I got paid to do pretty much three hundred nights of the year. Leave the guys dry and just book it to somewhere far away from here, like New Zealend or Maui. Anywhere I could die alone and no one would be able to find me until I was honestly dead this time.

I walked on stage as I heard fans screaming for us, my wireless bass amplifier picking me up as soon as I clicked it with my pinky forcefully. Brad started our first song off with the heaviest one we have, one that made Slayer look like Sesame Street tunes. As soon as we started, though, the only side left of me that had any idea what it was good for kicked in and took over the rest of the show....

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I got back home at four in the morning, the silence of my large, typical California mansion greeting me warmly as i kicked off my shoes and dropped all of my luggage at the edge of the foyer and living room.

Stripping all of my clothes as I made my way up the stairs towards my bedroom, I ventured into the possibility that tonight would be the night I had courage, and could down the bottle of sleeping pills that still lied unopened on my night stand, dust collecting amongst it from times wussied out.

I slid under the heavy silk and cotton blankets grabbing the bottle and a glass of water without second thought. Ten tablets in hand, I popped one after another with a swig of the water....

I only made it to two.