I'll Be There

I swiftly made friends with the nearest males, joking with them and having them go on drink runs for me. My friend and I had shoved our way to the very front and triumphantly held our place against jealous pursuers. After hours of standing and complaining and booing the opening band offstage and listening to a Rob Zombie Album on repeat, the lights finally dimmed. The strange booming intro of Chinese Democracy was playing before the crowd even had a chance to shut up. All at once the complaints and chatter turned to shouts of joy as they heard the lead riff of the song being played, promptly 2 hours late. Then I spotted him. Not 20 feet in front of me, on top of the platform that the drums occupied, stood a figure in decorated stage pants and a stitched hat. “Dj!!!” I screamed before I could help myself. My voice was drowned out in the crowd.
The guitarist continued to play, absently smiling as he heard shouts of his name. He looked out from under his stitched hat, his blue eyes glowing under layers of black eyeliner. Axl had just run onstage and started singing. As soon as the singer had moved out of range, Dj leaped dramatically into the air, knees up, guitar slung to the side, tattoos flashing brilliantly under the stage lights, and landed promptly center stage to place his foot upon an amp. He continued to play his part until his fellow guitarist, Ron “Bumblefoot” Thal, took his position in center stage to continue the solo. Dj moved over to his position on the far left of the stage, and looked over the crowd as he got used to the stage’s layout. He tossed a pick to a random fan, and watched as they caught it and screamed; he went to grab another off of his mic stand.
I yelled loudly as I watched Dj toss a pick to my southeast, jealous of the fan who caught it. I vowed that I must have one by the end of the night, no matter the trouble to get one. Beside me my friend watched over me vigilantly, aware that I would stop at nothing to obtain one of those white delicacies. She loved the band as much as I did, but she wasn’t quite a fan girl to any of the members. This I found both annoying and useful, for it stopped many conflicts both ways. I glanced back up at Dj as Chinese Democracy ended and the crowd roared. He was about 5 feet to my right, I was right between center stage and the far side.
A light trained itself on the guitarist. He obtained a dramatic composure and strummed the first note of Welcome To The Jungle. The crowd roared. He repeated this. Another applaud sounded. He got creative and mixed some notes together to blend into the one dramatic note as a whole. The audience was dying. Axl strutted up beside him and screamed “You know where you are?!” Dj glanced up at his singer, then out to the audience. He saw a flash of red in the light. Curious, he kept glancing that way until his part called for him to focus. The main riff of the song was playing. Dj jumped, then assumed a comfortable stance. He gazed over the crowd once more. He tossed a pick to no one in particular. His eyes darted across heads, hats, signs, some occasional flashes of jewelry, until he saw it again. A bit to his right, the flash of red. Once the lights lit again he noticed that it was hair, someone with black and red hair, even spiked in the back like his was in Sixx:A.M. He couldn’t help but smile. However, he noticed that the person’s face was hidden behind their phone. They must be recording this song. He dipped his head and dramatically pursued the rest of the music beneath his agile fingers.
I squealed and nudged my friend, trying to keep my phone still and hidden from security. “Did you see that? He looked at me!” I yelled. She gave me a sincere look, not believing that it was actually me he was looking to. Then he pranced back up center stage to play the solo. I yelled. “Yeah Dj!!!” I screamed as loud as I could, waving one arm and trying to film with the other. Soon the song ended, and eternal applause was granted to the band. During the course of the next few songs, I gradually noticed that he looked in my direction more and more.
At one point the guitarist looked over to the red haired person, and was able to see them clearly past the security and various tall men in the crowd. It was a girl. A teenager probably, maybe 19 years old. An accidental curve creeped upon his mouth, a teenage fan girl. This may be an interesting show for once. Then suddenly, while he happened to be looking at the girl still, he decided to dance to the song he was playing. The running man is what people liked to call it, and he found it quite fun to do, though most people simply ignore him and make him feel like a fool for doing it in the first place. She laughed. The girl laughed! He couldn’t help but smile. He stood up suddenly and tossed her a pick. She jumped to catch it and immediately closed it in her fist and held her hand to her heart, as if she were afraid it was going to disappear.
I screamed and bounced up and down, still holding my hand like it may fall off. I was screaming incoherently, but was pretty sure it had something to do with Dj noticing me. My friend rolled her eyes and said something about acting stupid. I barely noticed. Several times throughout the show he did the dance again, flashing that perfect smile right at me. Somewhere in my head I knew he must be playing with me, but I was enjoying it so I didn’t really mind. Before I knew it three long hours had passed, my legs were numb, my arms were sore, I was covered in sweat, and the lights were dimming for the last song of the show.
Dj enthusiastically struck the G chord that began the last song of the set, Paradise City. He loved that moment when the band suddenly joined together, so many disorganized sounds fusing coherently to make music. He played his part. Then the drummer chimed in. Bumblefoot and Richard also joined, the bassist following suit. With the other two guitarists filling in well enough, Dj released his grasp on the guitar and clapped his hands above his head. The crowd imitated him. He then resumed playing as the fast part kicked in, and Axl began to sing. He jumped up onto the amp, waved an arm in the air, and began dancing as he played his tune. From under his hat he glanced at the girl, as expected she was laughing and jumping and having an amazing time. Without thinking he stopped short and tossed her another pick. She wasn’t prepared however, and it hit her shoulder and was captured by a blonde woman next to her. Dj laughed as he watched the girl glare at the culprit.
I was furious. How dare she grab my pick? MY Dj Ashba pick?! I soon forgot all about her though and resumed watching the man in front of me. The show would end soon, and I didn’t want to miss one glorious second. Suddenly two cannons exploded in front of me, drowning the place in red and gold confetti. I threw my hands in the air and screamed joyously as I tried to grab bits and pieces and shove it in my pockets. Any souvenir is a good one. Once I had crammed all the paper I could fit into my pockets I took out my phone to try and snap a pic of Dj in the flurry, but he was almost invisible amongst the little shining papers. All too soon the show ended. The band came back onstage for the final bow. Dj had taken his shirt off. I stared, trying not to look dazed. The boys locked arms around each other and bowed, waving to the crowd. Dj looked directly at me, I snapped a pic. Then I shoved the phone back into a pocket and watched until every last member disappeared. I remained there for several minutes. The club was clearing out, people were buying drinks for the ride home or shoveling confetti off the floor to try and find picks or goodies that were lost. I was gripping the bar in front of me that separated me from the stage. I was staring at the roadies taking down equipment, watching my life for the past three hours unfold as though it were never there.