Danger Line

„Okay, I officially hail to you oh master,” I whispered as he pulled a lever of sort, lighting up the place. Syn had guided me in the Long Beach stadium. Simply... wow. How on earth did we even get in? It seemed like I wasn’t fully awaken, knowing how I had fallen asleep in the car. I had been here once- when their band were playing and this was where I met Syn for the first time, but he surely didn’t remember it. „Can’t we get arrested for this?”

„We sure can,” He replied, walking a couple steps behind me over the spacious arena. It seemed like there’s supposed to be a show the next day, everything was set- the lights, the drums, the mic stands. Some sort of concert probably. I looked back at him with a raised eyebrow and noticed he was carrying a guitar case. „But I know a guy, so...”

„You know a guy...” I muttered in disbelief. This was all I ever wanted, to be on the stage, to be living the dream, the dream Brian’s life happened to be.

„Here, hold this,” he handed me the guitar case and pulled himself up on the stage, later taking the case from me, before holding out a hand. Yeah, if he’s thinking I’m physically able to pull myself up, he really has another thing coming. „Come on, Meg...”

„Haner, I don’t do a lot of sport,” I objected, realizing the elevation the stage was, was in my altitude.

„But I do. And I’m not talking about sex. Trust me, I’ll pull you up.” Fine, here goes nothing. With one swift movement, I was up there. On the stage. In Brian’s hands. Our faces were just inches apart and then I noticed his grin. Asshole. I pushed him away, taking a walk around the stage. Just... wow.
„And now imagine ten thousand kids cheering just for you,” He whispered seductively in my ear. Thanks mate, now I’ll have to apply cold water to the burnt area. Like it wasn’t painful enough being together with him, when he had it all and I had... well the thing that I had.

„Yeah,” I sighed, imagining the crowd going wild just by seeing me walking on stage. I mean, who didn’t want to be a rockstar? And don’t lie to me, even the goddamn prime minister wished to rock the stage at one point in his life.

„I’ll return in a second,” He left the guitar at the center of the stage and ran to the backdrops.

„Where are you going?” I shouted after him, but he didn’t hear my question. He was already off stage. I sighed, brushing fingers through my raven hair. What was he doing? Why did he even bring me here? Realizing a second passed and he wasn’t back, I walked over to the guitar case and bent down. My fingers slid over the faux leather before I undid the clips and opened it. Brian’s striped Schecter was laying peacefully in the case. Oh what the hell. I picked it up and placed the strap over my shoulder.

„Where’s the goddamn pick?” I scanned the suitcase, not finding anything. Good. Nice. I didn’t quite prefer finger picking, but if that’s the only option I’ve got... My eyes landed on the neck. But of course, he liked to damage the strings. I took out the pick from in between the strings and let my fingers get used to his gun with some scales.

„Good, you’re all set.” He came from the backdrops, with some sort of a small plastic thingy in his hand.

„Where were you?” I questioned as he came closer and attached something to the back of the guitar strap, „What the fuck are you doing?” He shushed me, before attaching a wire to the guitar.

Syn stopped behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder as his hands traveled by the each side of my waist. With his left hand he took the guitar neck, while with the right he hit a chord. The whole arena instantly filled with an E minor chord. I could hear the sound echoing through the space and coming back, hitting me straight in the face. I felt his hair against my cheek. He was so close, I could even see every wrinkle I didn’t even know he had. His skin looked so smooth, it made me want to just slide my hand over it. „Okay, you’re ready to go...” He bit my shoulder playfully, before backing away. Why did this action leave me so... out of balance? What was wrong with me? Focus, Meg.

„I’m... Uhh... What?” I stuttered looking over my shoulder to see him walking to an amp.

„You’re good to go, Meg.” He said simply, pulling his phone from his pants. Come again? „I’ll put on a beat and I guess you can go from there,” He was sliding his finger over the screen, „Just can’t quite... Oh, here it is.”

A very familiar beat started blasting through the speakers. I frowned, getting very confused. „That’s gypsy jazz, Syn...”

„And?”

„I don’t do... uhmm... jazz.” Now it was his time to raise that dark eyebrow.

„Aren’t you a teacher?” He spoke like it was my obligation to know everything about everything. Last time I checked, I was only required to know how a guitar looks like. I wasn’t necessarily obligated to know how to play the instrument, I was only required to teach it and that didn’t include me being able to outdo Django Reinhardt.

„I don’t teach jazz, not speaking about gypsy jazz.” He smiled, taking up his phone from the Marshall amplifier. The beat changed to something I remembered to be similar to their song Nightmare. Maybe it in fact was the same song, I wasn’t that sure. He looked at me expectantly. Fine, in any case I needed to rehearse for Frank’s exam, so why not do it in the fucking Long Beach arena. With shaky fingers I hit the first note and from then on my fingers started leading their very own life. I was never a very big fan of doing basic covers, so I put some improvised licks here and there, putting a bit of myself in Syn’s solo and finishing up with yet another improvisation.

When I finished, my cold silvers scanned his face. It was without emotion and it stayed like it for a couple of moments, making me question if I did something wrong. Was he mad about changing his solo? But no, he slowly looked over, raising a corner of his mouth in that obscene side smirk of his. Syn started clapping. „Okay, a simple question- Why aren’t you famous yet?”

My lips turned into a foolish smile as I jerked my shoulders.

„I have a proposition for you,” He started, wiping the smile from my face. I knew Syn, and I knew his propositions. Either they were really lewd or... well there was no other option with him. „We’re starting a headliner tour in a couple of weeks,”

„Wait... you’re leaving?” I took the strap off and placed the guitar in the suitcase, „Why didn’t you tell me?”

„I did tell you,” he unplugged his phone from the amp.

„What? When?” I tucked a strand behind my ear.

„That time when we were drinking,”

„yeah, that clears absolutely everything,” I replied sarcastically, bending over to remove the black plastic box he had attached to the strap. So in just a couple of weeks he’ll be gone, tasting every girls he meets, cool. I felt kind of hurt, although I had no right to feel that way. „So what’s the proposition?” I was trying to hide the anger, behind a mask of absolutely no emotions. Why was I even angry, can anyone tell me?

„I’d want you to be our warm-up,” I straightened up immediately. Was he crazy? Sure looked like it. Right now I heard Matt’s warnings in my head. I shook it off. Syn hadn’t done anything in the past six months, he kept his word, so why did I even associate this situation with Matt?

„One person band? Yeah, sure, Gates.” I blurted out not even thinking it over. He offered me... my dream and I just threw it back in his face? Really fucking smart.

„Come on, Meg, I know you, that Chris guy and Bails... You guys have your gigs,” What? I made a face saying he was retarded. Sure we played at Johnny’s from time to time, but it wasn’t like we were a band or anything. What the hell was he talking about?

„That’s different, Haner...”

„How’s it any different? Don’t you want to be noticed? Don’t you want to live like I do?”

„Like you do?” I pushed the plastic thing in his hands, „You wish for me to fuck everyone I ever meet? Cause man, I’m so down for it,” Note the sarcasm.

„So that’s the only thing you associate me with,” His browns scanned my face, searching for something. He sounded a bit hurt, but then I remembered I have Synyster Gates standing in front of me.

„That’s what everyone associates you with!” I yelled in his face.

„Why are you so goddamn stubborn Meg? I just offered you everything you want, not asking anything in return!”

„But you are! How stupid do you think I am? You need me there just because the press has grown used to me and because your wife thinks I’m your fucking homie. I’m your perfect alibi. Don’t you think I’ve realized it?” My eyes lowered on his fists and those white knuckles. I swear he wanted to hit me, which meant I was right. „Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

He took a deep breath, calming himself down, „Aren’t you going to reconsider?”

„Why? So you can get laid? Puh-lease.”

„Why does it bother you so much?”

„Because I’m the one who covers your ass, Michelle doesn’t even call you anymore. She calls me asking, where the fuck are you. I’m so sick and tired of coming up with some stupid stories.” Not mentioning I didn’t like her shrill voice at 4 in the morning.

„Okay, fine, let’s make a deal,” He walked over to pick up the guitar case, suddenly looking very cheerful.

„With you?” I asked a little too skeptical.

„Haven’t I held my part?” Fine, he was right. He had. He hadn’t tried to get me in bed, but I realized it was not what I actually wanted. Sometimes I even felt jealous towards his trophy girls, but just because they got a lot more attention from him than I did, making me really feel like his homie or something.

„What’s the deal?” I asked unwillingly.

„I stop fucking around if you come on tour with us.” Did he really think it mattered to me that much? He could screw around all he wanted, just make his wife stop calling and texting me. In the very end he corrected himself, „I rephrase that, I stop fucking around publicly.”

I rolled my eyes. He was unbelievable, „And?” I gestured him to carry on.

„What else do you want?” He walked over, placing his heavy arm around my shoulder and guiding me to the backdrops. „I mean I could fuck you, but a deal is a deal.”

I made a disgusted face, „You’re probably crawling with STD’s, no thank you,”

„Then what is it?” We ended up in some hallway, where a guy in his early twenties with a short, but modern hairstyle was awaiting at what seemed to be the door to freedom. So there happened to be someone else besides us in here. Figures. Syn handed him that black thingy, letting me go for a second, „Thanks, Mark. I owe you one.”

„Don’t mention it,” He opened the door and we walked out in the poorly lit parking lot, Syn’s hand yet again around my shoulder.

„I want you to sing karaoke.” I said simply.

„That’s it?” He looked at me surprised, „Easy.” He could hind behind his arrogant self all he wanted, I saw through him and I damn well knew he hated karaoke, which made me love it even more. Of course not with me on stage. That would be too outrageous.

What had I agreed to? But oh shit. I promised Frank to play with him...