Stigmata

“What do you people expect me to do here?”

Vivien had been tossed into something like an acid-trip flashback to that fateful day she had auditioned to be one of the boys dancers on their upcoming Cities of Evil tour. The boys were arranged at a flat table (minus the fit-throwing Brian, of course), each with a plethora of sharpies - the only difference was that instead of making a replica of Starry Night, Jimmy was signing likenesses of his face. All of the boys were.

“Sit and talk to people, Viv. Be social!” Even Johnny, the least social person she had encountered while on tour, was encouraging the little dancer. With an exaggerated roll of her light eyes, the guitar tech pulled a folding chair between Matt and Zachy, where Brian would usually sit, mindful of the insult it would cause if Brian were to actually show up.

“It’s not like anyone wants me to sign anything…”

As if to prove her wrong, not five minutes later, a small girl with bright pink hair and all-black clothing approached the booth with a collection of Polaroid’s in hand, and made her way down the line beginning at Johnny, the opposite side of the lone woman. Vivien sat still, flicking her unused Sharpie back and forth while she considered exactly what she was going to say to Brian the next time she saw him.

“Could you - uh… could you sign this, Vivien?” Startled out of her reverie, Vivien abruptly found herself looking at the pink-haired girl, who had a Polaroid picture of her shaking her hair back, soloing atop an amplifier.

“Oh my God, would I ever love to! You just made my day!” It was all Viv could do to keep herself from snatching the thing out of the girl’s hands in a very un-ladylike manner. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Grace.” Viv gave the girl a lopsided smile as she wrote on the small white portion of the Polaroid, wrapping the text around the picture, and signed her name at the bottom. She shook it to dry the ink for a moment, making small talk about the show with her newest best friend in the whole wide world Grace; for once, it seemed as if nothing could knock her off her high horse.

“Well that’s a nice picture of you, Viv.” Except for that. Familiar fingers snatched the picture out of her hands, and an even more familiar voice read the words which wrapped around the picture. “’Dear Grace, thanks for making my day! You’re the best! Love, Vivien Hopwood.’”

“That’s a shitty imitation of my voice, Synyster, but while you’re here you could sign a picture for my new friend Grace here. Did you get any of him while he was onstage, Grace?” Vivien didn’t mean to get the girl involved in the middle of a catfight, but she could hardly contain her anger toward the guitarist for abandoning her to the wolves, so to speak. She watched as those tattooed arms reached around her to sign the bottom of the Polaroid, and write around its edges ‘I’ll play the next show, promise! See you soon, stay pink!’ As the little pink-haired girl moved down the line to get Zachy’s signature, Brian made the little redhead move to the side so he could pull up a chair. Vivien could hear the guys criticizing Haner via an open mental line.

You really think you deserve to be here right now, Haner? Vivien was the only person who was surprised that Johnny had led the anti-Brian tirade; the bassist had become very protective of the little redhead.

I think we should fire him. Viv has way more stage presence. The southern twang belonged to Zachy, but Vivien hadn’t ever heard the cutting edge in his voice before.

Now now, guys, we need to be careful with Brian. He’s very delicate at the moment, might throw another hissy fit. Matt’s Italian accent was surprisingly sarcastic and vicious toward one of his closest friends. Vivien smiled, and not just because she was signing her second (GASP!) autograph of the day to another guitar-playing, crazy-haired girl, but because of Matt’s comment and how livid Brian looked.

The berating went on for another twenty minutes or so, until Brian pushed his chair away from the table abruptly and lit up a cigarette. He proceeded to loiter about the back of the tent in a manner of general poutyness as Vivien signed her third (her fan count was becoming more and more ridiculous by the second) autograph of the day. But before she could get neck-deep in a discussion about how face-melting her solo during Bat Country had been with another empowered female fan, harsh words interrupted the dancer’s new fan’s excitement.

“Fuck Avenged Sevenfold! You guys fucking suck!” As if in slow motion, Vivien watched as a sickening glob of mucus and water flew through the air to land on Matt’s temple; it slid down the side of his face in a manner that made her stomach curl. Rather than answer the angry child (who was actually a college aged male) Matt sprang from the table and turned away from the verbal barrage.

“Was that really necessary, you dick?!” The redhead spat angrily, as she knocked her chair over in her haste to stand and get a piece of the kid. He was within arm’s reach, and if she could draw him just one step closer to the tent, she could probably manage to get a good punch or two in before she got arrested…

“Yeah, you guys are fucking pussies!” Opportunity knocks but once - Vivien’s hand shot out to grab the front of the kid’s shirt to drag him closer to the table for a beatin’, just as another hand grabbed a chunk of the kid’s hair. Instead of a swift uppercut to the nose, the ignorant man received double-handed smack down on the tabletop delivered by two angry vampires. Suddenly, there were shouts, and Vivien felt someone taking hold of her arms, and forcing her to stop reeling the kid in over the table so she could more easily send him to the plastic surgeon’s tent halfway down the row.

“Brian! Vivien! Get the fuck out of here, now!” His face bright red, Jimmy practically threw Vivien’s tiny frame into Haner - who was being restrained by Johnny - and pushed them out the back tent flap, past Matt, and off into the fairgrounds, away from the kid they were about to murder.

Still stumbling from Jimmy’s violent toss, Vivien managed to fish her sadly crushed pack of cigarettes (or Brian’s, or Zachy’s, or Jimmy’s, their ownership was definitely in question) out of her back pocket, noting that Haner had already done the same. She reached for his light, which he provided begrudgingly, and they puffed along at a heated pace in silence for an entire cigarette before even feigning interest in one another. Surprisingly, it had been Haner who broke the silence first.

“Listen, Viv, I’m sorry about today.” The little redhead looked over at the guitarist, and sighed.

“Yeah, what happened, anyway?”

“I had an… interesting vision this morning. And the mix was off.”

“It was so not, Brian!”

“Was too!”

“Was not!”

The pair could go back and forth in that childish manner, until one of the guys appeared and played mommy. As it were, they went on until Vivien punched the guitarist in the arm.

“Do you want to go back to the table?” Brian asked, as he put out his second cigarette. The Vampires were at the halfway point - they could either proceed through the fence toward the busses, or go back to the signing table and face whatever shenanigans had been going on there during their absence.

“Not particularly. Let’s just… watch a movie or something. I’m hungry anyway.”

“Good call. You pick out the movie, and I’ll fix us dinner?” The dancer rolled her eyes at the brown-eyed guitarist, who was speaking as if ‘fixing dinner’ was a task consisting of more steps than pouring blood into cups.

“Sure.”

After a few minutes of wandering through the maze of tour busses, the duo reached the remote location where they had managed to get their bus in at just 2AM that morning. Haner made his way to the kitchenette in the bus, and poured two tall glasses of Jimmy’s Special Blend before Vivien could even read all of the movie titles - the DVDs were stuffed into a large bin which resided in a neat little pull-out compartment under her couchy bed, and every time Vivien opened the damn thing, she had to wonder just how the men had accumulated so many DVDs - they may have been alive for quite some time, but DVDs hadn’t been around for very long at all.

“What do you want to watch?” She finally asked, after flipping through the cases without finding a single interesting title.

“That’s your job, Viv.”

“I mean, you made me do your job earlier,” Angrily, Brian pushed the redhead out of the way, nearly spilling her drink (a felony offense, especially on the Warped Tour) in the process. “Careful with that, this stuff’s expensive I’m sure,”

“Never send a woman to do a man’s job, eh Viv?” It took the older vampire not two seconds to select a title and present its case to Vivien. “Put that in the back TV.” Viv turned, ready to acquiesce to Haner’s bidding until she read the title.

“Really, Brian, the Lost Boys? You better make me a nice stiff drink for this.” The dancer called as she proceeded to the back of the bus to put the movie on after a moment of discomfort over the subject matter she held in her hands.

“If you had wanted to watch something else, you shoulda picked it out yourself.” Haner called Viv’s bluff as he seated himself next to her Vivien on the wraparound couch which occupied the back “room” of the RV and passed her an alcoholic beverage before he stole one of the throw pillows the petite vampire always surrounded herself with in the back room. Peeved at the loss of one of her precious pillows, Vivien slammed down most of the drink Brian had made for her.

“God, the foreshadowing in this is awful. And the clothes? God I don’t remember looking that awful in the ‘80’s!”

“Jesus Christ woman, can you co anything other than complain?” Like a five-year-old, Vivien stuck her tongue out at the guitarist, not expecting him to catch it between his thumb and forefinger. Very startled and slightly agitated, the redhead struggled against the captor of her tongue, and finally gave herself over to pouting with her hands folded over the top of her solo cup in her lap.

“Leggo!”

“No ma’am, I’m enjoying the movie.”

“Buh ih hurss!” Finally Haner gave in, but left his arm draped casually over Viv’s narrow shoulders. Her eyebrows knotted, the tiny dancer furtively glanced up at the tattooed man.

“Viv, have you developed some new Tourettes tick?” The small girl began to protest every injustice Haner had ever inflicted upon her, but lips atop of hers practically stopped her heart in her chest - if it had been beating at the time. Her empty solo cup fell to the ground her fingers twined themselves through Brian’s hair before she had any realization that she had moved her hands at all.

Her mind went absolutely blank, all she was aware of was the odd buzzing sensation that spread over her body which originated in her lips. Suddenly, all she could think of was how she could finagle him into her bed - and where she would even find a bed… And just as suddenly, she was pushing the tattooed man’s face away from hers, shocked by the images that had just been racing through her mind.

“Brian! Brian, stop it! What the hell are you doing?!” In order to avoiding answering, the guitarist left his face buried in Viv’s long red locks, his arms wrapped around her waist and his mouth closed. Bewildered, Vivien placed her hand atop Haner’s spiky black hair, stroking it gently until it lifted beneath her hands.

“I… I’m not sure. Are you -?”

“No, I am not compulsing you, you asshole!” Vivien scooped up her cup as she finished Haner’s though, and allowed his head to drop to the couch from her shoulder as she stood. She needed a drink, and pronto. Unfortunately, Brian followed her through the bunkbed and bathroom hallway into the kitchenette area, hovering as she poured herself a series of shots - she broke into the Tequila they had picked up from the liquor store that she had stashed for a special occasion. The occasion was certainly special, and certainly required her to get out of her own head, pronto.

During her fifth shot in a row, a pair of fingertips dragged themselves slowly down her bare arm; Vivien smashed her shot glass down on the countertop, shattering it into little bits as she cried out mentally for Jimmy and fled the RV, leaving Brian standing with a hand in the air, dumbfounded.