Six Feet Under the Stars

“It’s time to meet the band.” My boyfriend Dorian told me as we walked down a stuffy hallway. It was dimly lit and the reverberating sounds of the cheering crowd could be heard through the cement walls.

“I have to?” I asked, trying not to sound whiny.

From what Dorian had told me and from my view of the concert, the band in question, All Time Low, seemed a little stuck up. Maybe cocky was a better word for it. They wore stylish clothing and flat-ironed hair while constantly trying to one-up each other on stage through their antics or rapid-fire jokes.

“It’s probably a good idea.” Dorian, a roadie on tour with the band, said. He laughed, “They’ll just think you’re a stalker following them around otherwise.”

Even I had to admit Dorian was right on that observation. Not even ten minutes ago when the two of us had entered the backstage area, a small group of teenagers were huddling by the door looking eager. They tried to sweet talk their way in with us and even push past our makeshift blockade. Luckily, Dorian had worked as a bodyguard in the city and had experience cooling down these sort of situations.

Anyway, he was built for the job - stocky, and well-muscled. His flare of copper-brown hair stood out from the norm as well. The square line of his jaw was always set sternly and it was rare to ever see a smile on his face. He had once told me I was one of the only people who could ever make him laugh.

Catching my reflection in a cracked mirror on the wall, I sighed. “I don’t think I look like a stalker.”

My large, luminous blue eyes seemed quite innocent as well as the gentle pink curve of my lips. The mess of curly hair falling past my shoulders seemed pretty low-key as well. Not to mention I was sporting skinny jeans, tattered Chuck Taylor’s, and my favorite Iggy Pop shirt, not a mess of All Time Low gear. To be honest, I wasn’t a fan of the band’s music and actually felt more than a little strange being at one of their concerts.

“Melanie, looks can be deceiving.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can’t judge a book by its cover.” I spoke, waving off his words. “I learned those Mary Poppins lessons a long time ago.”

Dorian laughed. It sounded a little choked. “Just try to be nice, okay? Look friendly, smile. These guys are my employers. I was lucky that Barry could set me up with this gig anyway.”

“It was lucky.” I agreed. Barry had not only given Dorian a job, but he also said I could tag along and help out with some microphone equipment. The only downside was I wasn’t getting paid, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Dorian held the stage door open for me as I walked through and his hand slid down my backside as I passed. Shocked, I jumped a little and looked back at him. He was smirking, cockily. Shaking my head, I tried to stay as far apart as was acceptable for a couple. I absolutely hated being groped like that, especially in public. Dorian knew that and did it anyway; I couldn't say anything with a small audience on the other side.

The members of All Time Low stood there, two with straightened hair knocking back drinks already. One of them that I thought was the singer from earlier was talking enthusiastically, waving his arms in the air while balancing his wine. Dorian and I remained unnoticed by the four of them as we entered.

“-- comes up to me and starts to hug me, y’know. And I’m like, ‘What the fuck?’ cause she jumped up on stage. The guards try to get a hold of her, but she has a grip like a fucking python or something. Then she jumped back like this and--.”

The white wine from his glass poured onto the front of my shirt as his body collided with mine. Dorian steadied me with his hand and kept me from falling to the floor from the sudden movement. The boy who had been talking started laughing instead of apologizing, as did the other band members.

“Hey, free drinks all around.” He shouted lifting his now-empty glass up, while climbing off of the ground. Smiling widely, the drinks were obviously already going to his head. “Do you want an autograph? A good ol’ picture with the band?” He questioned, trying not to laugh again.

“No, I want a dry shirt.” I spoke, unamused.

“Shit, take mine.” Another guy from behind said, ripping it off faster than I thought was humanly possible. He tossed the shirt at me, and I caught it without thinking.

“Woah, Jackie. Why don’t you calm down?” Laughed the boy who had spilled his wine on me. His straightened hair stuck out of the bottom of a grey beanie. “No one wants to see your lady lumps.”

“I vote yes for lady lumps.” A third member of the band shouted, with shorter wavy hair.

“Wow, learning new things about you everyday, Zack.”

“I try to keep it fresh.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Does anybody else feel uncomfortable?” The final band member spoke, looking around the group. His shaved head shook back and forth. “Cause I sure as hell do.”

Dorian finally broke the weird atmosphere. “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Melanie.” He swung an arm around my hip pulling me closer. I was still a little pissed about his groping earlier and wanted to move back away from him.

“I’m Alex.” The boy in frony of me introduced, holding out a hand I didn’t grasp. “Tarzan over there is Jack, and there’s Zack and Rian. Those two bite so I’d avoid them at all costs.”

Alex grinned ear to ear at me, finding himself amusing. I looked back at him, the picture of neutrality, feeling the liquid on my shirt fabric soak through to the skin. The smile on Alex’s face dimmed a little when it was clear I wasn’t happy. Seeming to come out of his drunken haze for a moment, he studied me with a strange look in his eyes.

Dorian continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “She’s the one coming on tour with all the other roadie guys so don’t mistake her for a crazed fan.” He was the only one that laughed and quickly carried on, “ I think she’s mostly working on the mic setups.”

“You’ll be seeing a lot of me then.” Winked Alex, putting on his charm.

I groaned internally and hoped he’d catch my sarcasm, “Great. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

More time with Alex? This tour was going to get interesting.