Six Feet Under the Stars

The interview room felt more like a sauna than the average radio booth.

The staff had to repeatedly apologize over the sound of whirring metal fans for the disfunctioning cooling unit. 'Malfunction' and 'terrible timing' were phrases thrown to and fro. Despite what anyone said, the heat in the tiny area was sweltering and inched even higher. A cramped desk sheltered an avalanche of papers and CDs precariously swayed on a row of unorganized shelves.

A gruff radio host with a scruffy goatee stood frantically as the band entered and subtly brushed orange Cheeto crumbs off of his belly. "Hey. Nice to meet you, nice to meet you. The name's Frank. Or at least that's what they tell me."

No one laughed.

The four band members took the primary chairs in front of the host who took refuge behind the radio microphone. He looked content with that position as he flipped a series of switches in sequence. Shuffling in front of the line of occupied chairs to get to one pushed in the corner, I felt like that one annoying movie guest who just has to shimmy their way through the theatre row for a popcorn refill during the climax of the film.

"This is the drill," Frank immediately assumed a serious, authoritative air that was completely unexpected. "You won't be on the air live, we're just taping this to play and stretch thin to keep the listeners tuning back in. See, give them everything at once and they're done. Withold some answers and use a few cliffhangers. Hell, they'll stay with us all night."

Smiling, Zack leaned forward to grab the coffee mug in front of him. "Whatever works."

Tapping the black microphone, a promising fuzz crackled over the line. "I've been doing this for twelve years so I've been around the block a time or two. Just know this is on the record so no bashing Tom Cruise. Well, maybe you can. I was never crazy about Top Gun."

Judging by the frazzled edge of the conversation, Frank's radio personality seemed to be protruding into every aspect of his speaking, like he couldn't separate his work from his actual self. Clearing his throat several times, he pointed an index finger at the band members and gave them a sharp nod as if to say 'You're on! Don't screw this up.'

"Hello, Seattle. It's Frank the Tank on with the band All Time Low. If you don't know anything about them you've probably been under a rock. They have a few albums on their resume and they're here just for you. Give us a moment and we'll jump right into the questions -- some that you submitted to the station."

With a flick of his hand, an orange button dimmed and went off indicating that the tape recording had paused. "Was that it?" Rian asked confused as Frank began to shuffle papers in front of him.

"No, just wondering if that intro is alright. It didn't sound to put-on did it?" Eagerly, the radio host looked to the band for an answer.

"Nope." Jack replied quickly. He was seemingly the picture of innocence with his hands folded respectfully in his lap but I knew better; the guitarist was trying very hard not to show the boredom overtaking him.

In the next second, Alex jumped in, "So what's the first question?"

"Eager to get it over with?" Frank chuckled while raking a hand through his patchy hairline and then patting down his sideburns. In a moment, he had the tape recorder back rolling, "So it seems like your music has shifted a great deal from your first album. How do you keep your original fans engaged while moving in a different music direction?"

"Good hair. That's the key." Jack joked and started to bounce his legs like an overactive spring.

Frank boomed with laughter, "And the humor too. Do you think your fans appreciate that the jokes or want straight answers? I get the feeling you aren't serious much of the time."

"Well," Alex scooted forward in his chair, "the thing is, we take our music very seriously, but we don't take ourselves serious at all."

Jutting his beer belly forward, Frank leaned back and scanned a notecard while he continued, "Some of your lyrics do seem very personal. Especially with the song 'Therapy.' Any personal struggles with that one?"

Faking nonchalance, Alex meerly shrugged, "Must be."

"Oh, sensing some resistance to that one. Must be a hot spot for you. But for the sake of time we'll move on from the drama and focus on some of our fan questions." More shuffled papers. "Dana from Brier asks, 'Zack, will you marry me?' Woah. Proposals already."

The group turned to look at the bassist and Zack laughed seeming to flush ever so slightly, "That's a pretty good offer. So Dana, come find me. But you're paying for the honeymoon to Hawaii."

"Hawaii?" Lips quirking, Jack turned to his bandmate. "Not creative at all."

"Not at all." Alex agreed.

"At all."

"At. All."

The back and forth banter between the two best friends made me laugh and it seemed as if a beacon was shone onto me for the first time. Frank looked at me with the interest of a reporter getting the dirt on a news piece, "And who are you, pretty lady?"

Shocked at being addressed in the middle of a band interview, it took me a second to reply. Even when I did it sounded unsure and unconfident like I didn't know my own name. "Melanie."

"Mellow Yellow." The radio host dubbed me with less frills than knighting a soldier. With a roving finger he pointed down the line at each of the All Time Low members, "Who's girlfriend are you?"

A blush spread to my cheeks. "Uh... No one's."

That was the honest truth. My meaningful fling with Alex didn't really count anymore in the grand scheme of things because of his recent actions. Whatever was starting to blossom between Jack and I was only at the innocent, budding stage too. For the first time in a long while I realized I was independently my own.

Frank chuckled loudly. "Don't be shy, girl. You gonna make us guess? Well, actually that's not such a bad idea. It's only one in four chance I get it right. So it'll be a fun game."

"That's really not--."

"Now, Zack and Dana, our listener, are newlyweds, so I think it's safe to rule him out. Okay, okay. One in three chance now. I'd be great at poker. Maybe we should all hit Las Vegas after this." suggested Frank with his signature ear-shattering laugh.

Quickly, Alex tried to steer the subject away from anything resembling dating relationships, "Maybe we should. Go gambling and hit up the clubs. We were there a while ago and had a great time. I walked out of a casino with nothing, but if you don't lose money in Vegas you haven't really experienced the city."

However, Frank was more keen than to let an opportunity to bust open a Hollywood relationship pass him by, "But really, I'm going to make my guess. Drum roll, please..."

Pounding his fists on the desk in something resembling a rhythm, Frank prolonged the moment for radio suspense. Rian visibly flinched at the host's out-of-time drumming and lack of fluidity. In the mean time, both Alex and Jack shifted awkwardly in their seats probably narrowing down the guessing choices even farther.

Frank spread a grin between everyone, "It's Alex, right? I mean, I saw some of those looks on the way in. And the body language, it's all high school psychology stuff."

Meeting each other's gazes, Alex and I shared a private communication back and forth. It reflected everything we had shared; the laughs, love making, and fights. Good and bad. It was a shared moment of peace and turmoil at the same time. Finally, Alex turned away and replied, "No. I'll say it right now. I'm dating Jack. So, sorry girls out there. You just weren't man enough."

And just like that, the interview was back on track. Frank's bellowed laughter bounced off of the walls getting caught in the humid atmosphere of the station. The band answered more questions about the tour, the new album, and guilty pleasures like the awkward instance had never passed at all. However, I couldn't shake the feeling from me.

If a total stranger thought they saw a connection between Alex and I, was there still some residual feelings present? I already knew the answer; yes. My body and mind was drawn to Alex's smile, the way he tilted his head when he thought, how he twisted his hair around while zoning out during boring stretches of the tour. The lust bubbling between us was trying to work its way back up to a boil.

There were other things to consider besides my libido. Alex had dropped me almost instantly at the passing possibility of getting together with his ex-girlfriend. And still he couldn't decide between the two of us after all the time. He insisted on thinking it through, even going so far as to pay for Caitlyn to fly to Seattle for two days. I gritted my teeth in realizing I was going to have to fake a smile and meet her soon.

Another part of me realized that since Alex had virtually been shunning me from his affection albeit snatched kisses in a steamy bathroom, some other feelings were rising to the surface. Feelings for Jack. Slowly, I was getting to know his inner sensitive side not to mention his care for me. I hadn't forgotten that he was the one who had come back for me amongst the insanity with the fans.

I was never one to make rash decisions. Honestly, having sex with Alex on the forest floor was the first impulsive move I had made in a while. It seemed like the singer was the one always pushing my personal boundaries, to step out of my comfort zone. And I loved that trait about Alex even though it had also been destructive.

Just now I was realizing how destructive those decisions could truly be.

For one, I was juggling intense feelings for Alex that were completely overwhelming me. His subsequent rejection also had my head spinning; did he want me or not? Since he pushed me away, Jack had been emerging in the picture as my personal Superman. The guitarist seemed to be there whenever I needed him.

But perhaps the most pressing issue involving my recent impulsive decision was definitely quantitative involving missed dates and times and numbers. There was too much drama in my life to focus on it as terrible as it may sound. If I looked too closely I was afraid I'd crumble apart like a worn out statue.

So instead of breaking down, I sucked up the distress threatening to lug me under the tide, recrossed my legs, and prepared myself to face the world head on.