Second Chance

We made it to Matt's birthday without too much issue.

We were back in Germany, the guys headlining their own shows again. Half an hour before the show, and both Jimmy and Johnny were a little more tipsy than they probably should have been. I bit off a laugh as I watched Johnny stumble into the wall; Jimmy outright laughed at him, drawing the attention of the guitarists and the singer. Johnny grinned at them sheepishly. Matt merely shook his head.

"You two better not pass out on stage."

"Yes, boss." Jimmy saluted him. "No passing out on the stage."

I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Matt, having to watch out for his friends on his own birthday, when he should have been the one drinking and having fun. But he didn't seem to mind - he was all smiles and amusement as he watched them.

I changed the batteries in Zacky's camera, knowing that tonight I was going to be pushing the shutter button a whole lot more than I usually would. I had already glimpsed the crowd briefly, and wasn't surprised to find that there was an abundance of, "Happy Birthday, Matt!" signs out there, among other things. It only took that single moment to know that this show was special. I wanted to capture as much of it as possible.

I slipped out into the crowd as it grew closer and closer to kick off time. By now, I was well and truly used to being recognised by people who were both happy to see me and those who clearly wished that I didn't exist. I took it all in stride, Jimmy's words of wisdom always on my mind. I had learned to ignore the nastiest of the groups. Sometimes I even managed to turn a bad opinion good.

It had taken a little while, but over the weeks I'd discovered that Zacky's little digital camera had video capabilities. There hadn't been much use for it in the past - especially given that the guys' sound would play over anything that I recorded - but I used it now to pan the crowd, taking in signs, home-made t-shirts, drowned out birthday wishes and blown kisses. The sound would have to be fixed up at a later time.

Either the show went on longer than usual, or I was getting better at navigating my way around the venues; by the time the guys went off stage right before their encore, I had been everywhere. Satisfied, I descended the stairs and headed for the door, leaving the fans to watch the encore in peace.

If I'd known Larry was going to be waiting for me in the dressing room, I would have stayed with the fans.

It took all of two seconds for me to realise he was there and chose to ignore him. Eight minutes. That was how long it would be before the guys returned to the room. I could endure eight minutes. I set the camera down. I heard his footsteps coming toward me and turned in surprise, jumping back when I realised that he was now right in front of me. I winced as I hit the counter, but it was the least of my worries. His hands came up and grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me forward until his face was inches from mine. I shoved back in an attempt to get away from him, but he held tight.

"This is your last chance," were his chosen words. "You can either go to Matt and tell him that you want to go home - that you need to go home - or I'll be dealing with you in another way. Are we clear?"

I was stunned to the point of being speechless. Taking it as an act of defiance, he shoved me back and struck me across the face.

I cried out, more out of surprise than anything else. It had been almost three months since anybody had lashed out at me in such a way - so long that I'd began to believe that I had made it through the abuse. A number of reactions ran through my mind - should I be afraid? Should I be angry? Should I fight back?

None of it mattered in the end, because somebody was fighting for me.

I'd been too caught off guard, too stunned, to realise that after I had cried out Larry had backed off, preoccupied by the fact that Brian had lunged at him. He hit the opposite wall hard, Brian's hands inches away from being around his throat.

"Did I just see you hit her?" the guitarist demanded. "The fuck, man?!"

"What do you care, huh? I know you were itching to get your hands around her throat when she first came along."

Once upon a time I would have been highly offended by this, but I already knew of Brian's blunt hatred of me in the earlier times, so the admission doesn't come as a surprise to me. As if concerned that it may have, the guitarist spared me a quick glance before returning his rage to the manager.

"That doesn't matter. I'd never actually lay a hand on her! Nothing gives you the right to do that! Nothing!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Haner." Larry shoved him off before straightening up his shirt. "She's been around long enough. Over-stayed her welcome. It's time to put her on a plane and send her home."

"She isn't getting in the way."

"The longer she stays, the harder it will be on Zacky."

He looked satisfied by these words, as if he were certain that they'd get Brian to see things his way. Put an end to the arguing. Get me on a plane home. But his mood was shot down quickly when Brian snorted and gave him a short but firm response.

"We'll be the judge of that, Jacobson. Now get the hell out of my sight."

He turned his back on the manager, locking his eyes onto mine. I stared right back at him, giving myself something to do so that I wouldn't have to watch while Larry exited the room, looking none too pleased about being ordered around by somebody he was supposed to be in charge of. I listened carefully to the sound of his footsteps as they faded down the corridor; I was certain that Brian had been doing the same, because he didn't speak again until the corridor was silent.

"You alright, kid?"

"Fine," I assured him as I peeled myself away from the counter behind me. My back ached from where it had hit. "Thanks for...rescuing me, for want of better words. I didn't expect to see anybody until the encore was over."

"Any other night that would be true. But I came back to get the cake for Matt. Best way to end a show. Good thing too, by the look of things. Fuckin' Larry. Zack'll have his head for this."

"Don't," I said at once, surprising myself as much as I had clearly surprised him. "Just...don't tell anybody, okay? It's Matt's birthday. It's supposed to be a day for celebration. I don't want to cause any trouble. Please."

"Is that the first time he's hit you?"

"Yes."

Brian seemed to consider for a moment, but didn't say anything as he retrieved the cake that he had originally come for. For a moment I feared that maybe he would bring it up with his friends after all, that there was trouble brewing just around the corner. But then:

"I'll keep my mouth shut. For now. But not forever. And this conversation isn't over, young lady." And with that, his serious nature evaporated to be replaced by a wide grin. "Now come watch us throw this shit in Matt's face."

I made sure I grabbed the camera before following him out of the room.