Scream Over The Sound

“I know what to do!” I shouted down my cell phone and slammed the van door shut. Locking the door, I stormed to the elevators. “Can you please not worry? If you didn’t trust me, why’d you give me the job?” I hung up the phone and punched the up button at the elevators.

It was my first job aside from being just the Macbeth Footwear girl who sets up the booth at concerts and sells shoes. Boring, I know. But we usually get to watch the sound checks and the pay isn’t that sad either. This day, however, I got promoted to a ‘chauffeur’. Don’t let anyone fool you. IT IS as unglamorous at that sounds.

The elevators picked me up and brought me to the Arrivals floor. I wrapped my sweater around me a little tighter. Airports are really cold. And flying airplanes are cold blood sucking, flesh-eating machines. I hate flying. I don’t know how these bands travel all the time.

As I got to the waiting area, what I had feared had already begun.

Girls. Girls, everywhere. All quietly sitting around a permanent barrier that helps traffic the arriving passengers. More were collecting around the barriers like ants on a drop of sugared syrup.

I really loved the band myself. And maybe the fact that I got appointed this job boosted my ego a little and made me act like I really wasn’t a fan girl on the inside. But really, I really am a fan. But I’ll draw the line at screaming, ‘Have my babies.’

“PIERCE THE VEEEEEEIL!” a girl ahead of me screamed at the top of my lungs. And like a rampage in the savannah, all the girls stood up one by one and started wailing like sirens. I quickly grabbed my official chauffeur sign out of my backpack and held it up. I couldn’t see any thing through this sea of heads. I’m not exactly the tallest girl you’ll see.

“Excuse me,” I slithered through the ocean of ladies. “Excuse me, sorry.”

“Rude,” this girl elbowed me in the boob. “We got here at 9am this morning. Stop pushing.”

“Yeah well, you’ll get to sleep after this, sweetie. Guess who has to take care of the boys while they’re up all night all jet-lagged and shit,” but it wasn’t like I minded. And then that girl’s mouth warped into a big O.

Oh? Light bulb! Guess who’s the ideal friend to make right now? That’s right. Me. “Hey, I’m--,” she started to apologise.

“Sorry, no time to talk! Working!” I slid through the girls and got by the barriers. Airport security tried to stop me but I flashed them my official placard and they let me through. I saw three men of who did not form the band push their trolleys out. “Pierce The Veil?” I questioned out loud, as if I didn’t know they weren’t with them. I mean, in Malaysia, we don’t really see tall Caucasian tattooed men. Stereotypical? You’ve never been here then.

Their roadies smiled and offered me hands to shake. “Hi, I’m Frank, that’s Bob and here’s the band’s manager, Kevin,” and I shook hands with all of them.

“Hi Kevin, we spoke via email,” I announced.

“Yea! Alex right?” he reconfirmed and I nodded in response. “I kinda expected you to be this tall tattooed guy with no hair.”

I took over his hand luggage, “And what ever gave you that idea?”

“deadlymassacre211@gmail?” he laughed. “Doesn’t exactly sound like a little cutie pie’s email.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! The girls screamed in the background. Here they come.

“How sure are you she’s not one of them ready to kidnap us?” I turned around and saw a very tall Mike Fuentes smile down on me. “I mean look at her, with the purple hair and the small shy smiles. I don’t have a good feeling about this one,” he offered a hand and shouted over those screaming voices, “Mike.”

I took it and shook it firmly, “Alex. And I think I should know your name by now if not I wouldn’t be doing my job right,” I said with a straight face as my intestines did a little tango.

“Jaime,” said, well obviously, Jaime with his spikey hair. He held his own bass guitar and pushed a trolley piled up with bags as tall as me.

“Hi, Tony,” I said before he could introduce himself. He has the nicest eyes. “If my head count is right, we’re missing one more,” I joked.

Tony looked around and yelled out, “VIC?”

“VIC!!!” the girls mimicked. And out came running the smallest member of the band with his trolley. His cap on backwards and his hair frizzing up in all directions, his sweater creased at all edges visible and his tight skinnies rolled up at the ends. He also sported a pair of Japanese slippers. He’s never looked so badass. And cute. “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!” the girls yelled out.

“Wow, they’ve really made a name with the ladies here haven’t they?” Kevin asked but I was too busy staring down the man who had written the best music I’ve ever heard to even answer. You could say I was a little star struck. But then again who wouldn’t be.

“Sorry, airport security could’ve sworn I was hiding something in my mane,” Vic said, smoothing down his hair. I laughed, maybe a little too loud.

“Shall we make a move?” Tony asked, baring his beautiful smile at all of us. And all of us geared up to get through the ocean of screaming fan girls.

As I helped Kevin with his bag, I just watched my feet take one step after another, suddenly humbled by the band’s presence.

“I like your hair,” I was stunned to see Vic speak to me, walking right beside me. I realised I didn’t even introduce myself earlier. I looked up at him and smiled.

“I like your music,” I shyly responded and turned my gaze back at my feet.

“Well,” he said, making me look up at him again. He lips framed his perfect smile. “We’re gonna get along just fine, then.”