Stigmata

It was just past noon on a Wednesday; the bright noonday sun glared down on the parade grounds and bathed them in an unforgiving hot light, the kind which caused more sunburns than tans. In this heat, the “roadies” of Avenged Sevenfold toiled, darting to and fro in an attempt to set up their gear in the impossible slip of time set aside between shows for the purpose. Clad in one of countless pairs of jean shorts she owned and a loose-fitting grey V-neck, Vivien perched on a nearby amplifier, with one of Brian’s guitars nestled in her lap and his earpiece dangling over her ear as she tuned the instrument deftly. A motion from Zachy’s guitar tech, Thor, drew her to her feet; she swung the guitar’s strap over her head and pushed the mix into her ear as she strolled to Brian’s stage-left microphone.

“Check, one, two. Check. Cheeeee-yek…” Bored, Viv crossed the stage to where Matt’s microphone stood on the stand he never used, and placed her lips to it as she strummed Brian’s guitar. “Hey Thor, know this one?” Her chords turned into a twanging arpeggio as she stepped lightly on Brian’s wah-wah pedal as a means of testing it out before the song took a more structured form.

“I’m a D-R-U-N-K S.O.B. tonight. Drinkin’ T-E-Q-U-I-L-A, and M-I double-L-E-R’s light…” Thor grinned from across the stage before he crossed it, his chords clashed with hers as he began a song of his own. Usually, to test the gear the techs played one song in the style of Avenged Sevenfold - any song, just like it happened to be an Avenged song. Thor pressed his lips to Zachy’s mic, and while testing its volume in the mix to make sure it was adequate, he began to sing.

“Come out Virginia, don’t let me wait. You Catholic girls start much too late.” It was a little bit before Vivien caught on to the identity of the Billy Joel song, and pitched in her soaring soprano as a harmony on the bridge.

“Only the Good Die Young!” Suddenly, the tone shifted as Johnny’s tech Ryan joined in the mix, and Ronnie - perched high upon Jimmy’s drum kit - began to beat the bass kick with his foot while twirling a drumstick into a beige blur.

“Come on, guys, we could get in trouble for that. Let’s play a little M.I.A., it’s not on the set list today.” Ryan called into the microphone, which prompted Vivien to note that they only had five minutes to complete their sound check and a crowd was gathering before the stage already.

“So what? The boys will interrupt us when they want to start playing.” Off microphone, Thor shrugged as he motioned his head to Vivien, who had pulled her long red hair back into a lengthy ponytail. “You take vocals. Please.”

“Why?”

“My tuberculosis is acting up,” Ryan threw back his head at Thor’s comment as the person in question lit a cigarette.

“Fine. Just don’t go all Slash on me, ok?”

“Done and done.”

With a shrug, Vivien turned the microphone around to face Ryan up in the lofty drum kit, and the guitarist and bassist on her left and right did the same. She began the quiet beginning of the song on Brian’s guitar, playing his part because it seemed the only logical thing to do. Singing and playing was no easy task, but Viv managed to accomplish as well as any talented singer-slash-musician, that was until someone tapped her shoulder with a sharp finger. The tiny redhead turned to face Brian and Matt, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind her and towered over her small frame, her fingers still flowing from position to position in Brian’s solo. She grinned impishly, and completed a stanza before she removed her hand from the neck of the instrument and pulled Brian’s earpiece from her head.

“Sorry…” She shrugged, and began to turn a stunning shade of maroon as Brian took the guitar from her hands with a wry smile.

“Oh, it’s no problem. We just don’t want you to take our jobs, or for you to get a record deal and get taken away from us!” By now, the guitarist had to shout to be heard over the dull roar of the crowd as he accompanied Viv off the left side of the stage; his heavy paw descended atop Vivien’s head and gave her hair a quick ruffle.

“Hey! Not fair!” The redhead looked quite agitated, but could do nothing to avenge her hairdo as the black-haired guitarist walked across the stage, his trademark mischievous grin aimed right at his slight guitar tech. Vivien reduced herself to her normal “watching the set” pose - perched on an amplifier which had been placed between the stage and her (Brian’s) guitar rack. It didn’t take long for the tiny dancer to fall into the music the boys played - currently, The Beast and the Harlot - and soon she rocked back and forth, her Converse-clad toes tapped in time to Jimmy’s bass drum’s kick.

Usually, Vivien was on her own backstage until Brian broke a string and needed a new guitar (which was why the ginger was placed where she was, so that the crowd could not see her, but she could see Brian and his guitar), so when a hand descended on her shoulder during “Burn it Down,” she nearly fell off her amplifier-turned-chair. As it were, she was lucky to catch herself en pointe on the rubber toes of her shoes and was able to turn to face her “assailant,” an unnaturally blonde woman with shining tawny eyes.

“Uh, hello?” Vivien couldn’t help but become lost in the other woman’s sharp, cat-like eyes. The rest of her face, framed by the blond hair which shouldn’t have looked as good on her as it did, was oddly cheerful and sweet, but those eyes… The redhead shook her head once to regain her usual composure. “I don’t see a backstage pass, are you supposed to be here?” She asked, in an attempt to be helpful (a miserable failure, she figured).

“I’m Valary Dibenedetto, you must be Brian’s new guitar tech. I’ve heard so much about you!” While the blond smiled warmly, Vivien was put off by how that smile did not - or could not - reach the other woman’s cold eyes. The dancer shook the hand that the other girl offered her, and as they shook, Vivien turned her head to see if the telltale sound of a guitar going out of tune was indeed Brian’s string and not Zachy’s. She could see Matt murmuring into Brian’s ear during a guitar solo, the pair both looked in her direction and suddenly, simultaneously, they launched themselves toward where she and the blond conversed.

There was a sharp pain in her exposed neck.

That was the last thing Vivien could remember.

She awoke some time later, laying on “her” couch in the long tour bus. Immediately, the sensation of wakefulness and that of movement (forward locomotion, as they were en route to the next venue) sent the lithe ginger shooting past the eager faces of the men who employed her straight to the bathroom to empty her stomach.

Matthew leaned into Brian‘s shoulder, and whispered in his ear as Vivien blew past the worried group. “A little delicate, isn’t she?” The guitarist had a harsh glare saved for the singer and his blonde girlfriend, and he did not resist the opportunity to utilize it.

“Considering what just happened? No.” Matt’s shoulders sagged at the poignancy of Brian’s words, the singer sank into the armchair which served as a passenger’s seat to the vehicle. Valary followed and placed herself in Matt’s lap, as if she knew that her singing boyfriend was the only shelter she had from Brian’s wrath.

Momentarily, Vivien re-emerged from the bathroom with what appeared to be a wet towel protruding from beneath the loose curls on her ginger head. She gave a quick start as she caught sight of the blond woman - for all the dancer knew, the girl was crazy and had attacked her with no provocation - and managed to hide her person behind Jimmy’s twig-like frame.

“What the hell is she still doing here?” The girl sounded like a caged animal, she spoke in a frightened growl and clutched one of Jimmy’s arms between hands which felt to Jimmy much like two slabs of ice.

“Brian, she’s freezing.” Was all Jimmy had to say on the matter, he stood rigidly in place, unable or unwilling to move away from the little thing which clung to him like a child. With a raised eyebrow, the guitarist in question offered the skittish little redhead (who much reminded him of a frightened fox) his hand for support in the intent to guide her to the back of the bus.

“Come on Viv, let’s go sit in the back,” Haner was surprised at how docile the usually feisty girl was as he drew her to the “back room” of the bus. Vivien threw herself into the massive bank of pillows stationed on the floor beside the couch - a result of the boy’s videogames, there was always a pile of discarded pillows in the back of the bus - Zachy sat opposite Brian on the u-shaped couch, and Jimmy chose to hover in a corner, observing. With a shiver, Vivien drew a blanket over her thin frame.

“Well? You have answers? Because I have questions.” Prompted by her unusually clipped comments, Zachy reached out to stroke her back reassuringly, but Jimmy’s slight shake of the head prompted his hand to fall uselessly to his side. To Vivien, it seemed that the boys were having a conversation without her, and with a sigh she sunk back into the pillows; she allowed them to collapse in a heap over her head, pretending that if she couldn’t see the world, it couldn’t see her. “Helloooo?”

Above her pillow coffin, Brian, Zachy and Jimmy seemed to be locked in a three-way staring match, and no member of the trio had winner’s advantage. Finally, Brian tore his gaze from Jimmy’s face and began to dig gently into the mountain of pillows to find the body which was attached to Vivien’s bare, protruding legs.

“You need to visit Mr. Sunshine, Miss Vivien,” Haner mocked in a southern drawl, gaining a sharp look from Zachary as he did so. The guitarist ignored his fellow musician’s look and pulled Vivien from the floor to the couch by her armpits as if she weighed nothing - which was somewhat true - as she grumbled something to the same effect as the world “likewise,” but with much more profanity involved. “Come now, that’s not suitable language for a young lady,”

“Eat shit, Haner. What the fuck is wrong with that chick!” Vivien’s voice would have been fierce had it been louder and lacked the slight waver she had involuntarily added. With a slight shake of his head, Jimmy vacated the back room before he started laughing - the drummer had a feeling that laughter would piss the little girl off much more than his disappearance.

“Zachy, could ya make a few drinks ?” With her head down and her hair cascading about her face, Vivien missed the poignant look which passed between the two guitarists as Zachy left to prepare the beverages. She found that she didn’t even mind sitting in silence beside Brian while the blue-eyed heathen was gone, the tiny redhead figured she could use the alcohol anyway.

Just as soon as he had left, Zachary slid through the small opening in the magnetic sliding door, holding two solo cups by their rims in his right hand and another in his left, from which he took a strong draught. Vivien took hers in both hands, and drank only after Brian had taken a long draught and Zachy had settled himself at her other side. She raised the cups to her lips - and when she lowered it, it was empty.

“Haner? I think we may have a problem.”