Over It (The Kiss Off #2) (26 page)

Mud squelched between my toes and I swore as I ran over a sharp stick. I hopped and jumped a few feet but kept going. I had to keep going.

Astrid peeked over her shoulder, clutching the messenger bag to her chest as she flashed her admission wrist band to the security guards.

They watched me warily, calling each other to attention and shifting from foot to foot as I thundered after her.

“Stop her!” I yelled as one of them checked through her bag for drugs, weapons or glass. They didn’t seem to care about stolen laptops.

“Stop!” I yelled, my voice hoarse as I wheezed from all the running. I didn’t usually run. I had bad technique; I had no idea how people ran and breathed at the same time and I nearly failed gym last semester because of it.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the problem?” the closest one asked. He stepped in front of the entry and held up one hand.

I reached the bag check table and, before they knew what to do with me, snatched Astrid’s messenger bag up, waved my admission wrist band in their face, ducked between the two closest guards and fled into the sea of damp festival goers. I fit right in.

I could hear Astrid screeching something behind me and then the guards started yelling out to each other. It sounded like she’d run after me, and they were running after her. Or me.

I slid the strap of the bag over my shoulder. They were probably running after me.

I wove around corners and cut through The Exchange and under the back curtain into the next aisle. This seemed like a good tactic so I cut through the Skunk Skate Wear booth and ignored the stall holder as he protested.

I found myself under a loudspeaker that pumped The Himbos out into the field. The stages were empty; I noticed a couple of stages, Three and Four probably, were being dismantled already. They were done for the festival. All that was left was Academy of Lies on the main stage, any minute. I opened the messenger bag and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the laptop, dug my hand in and scrounged around the bottom of the bag for my phone. The readout said 6:57pm. There was no sign of Astrid or the security guards, but then I spotted a tall, beefy man in a black tee shirt with a radio at his shoulder. Our eyes met.

Shit.

I didn’t recognize him as one of the guards from the gate, so I gave him a weak, uncertain smile. He smiled back and kept walking.

I breathed heavily and clicked through to recent calls. The last call had been incoming, from my house, hours ago. She hadn’t called Ty. She probably wanted to see his expression in person; wanted to be there should he need a shoulder to cry on. It wouldn’t be worth it if she couldn’t get the reward.

The crowd was mostly flowing in the one direction, toward the main stage. I followed, winding my way between dawdlers. I fished around in my tote for my All Access lanyard as I went.

Flashing it, and a smile, at the security guy at the side of the stage, I hurried up the metal steps just as the crowd started cheering; that teamed with the rain hitting the stage roof was like a lion roaring on repeat.

Where were Ty and the guys? I couldn’t see them. The Himbos CD stopped playing. They were going to be announced and on stage any second. This was bad. Since when did bands go on stage on time?

I stood beside huge black speakers that were taller than everyone around me (I would have said taller than me, but that wouldn’t be saying much).

Tech guys, crew and the talent always seemed to wear earplugs, and standing next to the speakers, I realized it was with good reason. Sound pulsed in my chest, throbbed in my temples as a faceless voice started speaking, started announcing the band. Where were they, where were they?

I scanned the backstage area, not sure of what to do, where to go, where to find him. But then on the other side of the stage I caught a glimpse of Ty and the boys walking and jogging out onto the stage and I was too late. It was seven.

My shoulders slumped and I ran a hand through my damp, frizzy hair. Since I hadn’t actually seen them perform here yet, I didn’t know how long their set was. I took some deep, calming breaths. It would be okay, without an All Access Pass Astrid couldn’t get in here. She wouldn’t beat me to him with her lies.

And I had the laptop.

As Ty and Seb spoke into their microphones and thanked the crowd for turning out, especially in this weather, I flipped the computer open and clicked on the web browser to log in to my email.

The site couldn’t open. There was no internet service. I hadn’t thought of that.

Shit. Paul was probably at the airport right now, all checked in and boarding his plane. It was seven, he was probably already on it, shutting his phone off.

I was too late. I had the demo right there in front of me; I’d completed the track even with the tightest of deadlines, I’d made it in time, but I had failed anyway.

No. It would be okay. I’d send it to him anyway when I next found some Wi–Fi. It wasn’t like he could contact anyone, make calls or decisions while in the air. I’d send it to him and hopefully when he checked his emails and messages after the flight,
Over It
would speak for itself and be so good they simply had to have it anyway, even if I did miss the deadline by a nose. I was a kid; surely they’d expect this sort of stunt from me, right?

I guess I’d find out.

I settled myself side stage and watched Academy of Lies rock that crowd’s world. They were lucky: just as they walked out on stage, the rain stopped. I snuck a peek out at the teens at the front (mostly girls); rain soaked, they pressed against the barrier looking like drowned rats, but they didn’t care. The crowd was peppered all over with blue plastic; there must have been a stall selling ponchos or something and it was doing a roaring trade.

Ty and the boys played
Comic Book Hero, Liar Liar
and were starting up
Blades of the Sun
when my gaze wandered past Tommy, the closest band member to me, who was jumping around the stage with his bass like Tigger on a sugar high; past Archie as he pounded the tom toms so fast his sticks were a blur; past Ty with his feet rooted firmly on the stage behind his mic and pedal, legs spread wide, and Seb, who was running around in circles as he worked on the rhythm guitar (I always wondered how he did that, run around while still playing in tune).

I was looking absently toward the other wing when I noticed people waving at me. In the small group of people standing side stage, watching the show in the opposite wing, were Hamish, Nikki and Mads. They beckoned me over. I held up my hand in a wave and it paused mid–air. Mads pointed excitedly to the person beside her.

Oh no oh no oh no.

Astrid had seen me. Her attention flicked back and forth between me and the stage. The expression on her face was perplexing, a mixture of rapt ecstasy at being backstage and pissed off pit bull with every glance at me.

I shuddered under her scrutiny.

It was like a stand–off; the two of us glared at each other from the wings as between us, the band closed the festival with a bang. Who did she think she was? She was just some random nobody, determined to come between me and my boyfriend. What had she said to my friends about me? I didn’t know the answer. My heartbeat hammered heavily in my chest. What I
did
know was that she was determined to ruin my life. What had I done to her other than be a nice person? My breath came faster, shallower and my jaw clenched. She was nothing but a manipulative, lying, vindictive bitch who just wouldn’t quit.

I pulled off the messenger bag and dumped it on the floor against the wall.

Colored lights swirled around the stage and suddenly sparks showered down from the back of the stage.

I ran. I didn’t think about it, I didn’t even realize I was doing it until the crowd roared louder and security started flipping out. I ran across the back of the stage, behind the shower of sparks, totally ignoring the musicians in front of me who were kind of in the middle of something. I had anticipated meeting Astrid in the opposite wing, but with a furious glint in her eye, she charged onto the stage as well. Arms outstretched, she grabbed me by the hair, one hand on my shoulder, pushing me back.

It was like we were gladiators, wrestlers; we spun in circles, weaving across the stage, gripping each other, holding each other at arm’s reach.

“What is wrong with you?” I yelled. “Why won’t you just leave us alone?”

Her fingernails dug into my shoulder and I screamed and dug my own fingers into her collarbone. She flinched and pulled away, just as security lunged at us, the music still playing. I ducked away and around in front of Seb’s microphone stand. The crowd cheered, watching us, not the band.

“Poppy?” Ty said in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled away from the mic as I dashed around him.

I didn’t answer; couldn’t he see I was busy?

Seb said, “Holy shit, dude, it’s her. It’s the girl.”

Another security guard grabbed Astrid around the waist but she kicked her legs into the air, flashed the crowd her panties, wriggled free and climbed up onto the drum podium. Archie watched, open mouthed, as she climbed around behind him, focused solely on me.

A hand closed tightly around my forearm but before they could get a firm enough grip, Astrid screamed and launched herself into the air. She tackled me to the stage floor, ripping my arm free of the security guard’s hold.

She straddled me, sat on my waist and pinned me down. The music vibrated through the floor, through my body. I couldn’t tell the difference between the drum beat and my heart beat anymore. There were gasps and exclamations as she grabbed me around the skull, lifted my head up a couple of inches and then slammed the back of my head into the stage.

I blinked, my vision blurry for a second as the crowd “ooooh”ed at my injury.

“You don’t deserve him!” Astrid yelled as she picked my head up again. “
I
deserve him!”

Before she could smash my head into the ground again, arms wrapped around her from behind and she was hauled into the air, her feet kicking as she thrashed about and glared at me, trying to get free.

I hadn’t even heard that the music had stopped.

I sat up, rubbing my head and said, “You’re a psycho!”

“And you’re a slut!”

I didn’t even see that it wasn’t a security guard but Ty with his arms around Astrid, that he’d stopped their big performance to break up my fight.

I may have acted differently if I had noticed that. I hope I would have.

Instead, I screamed: “I’m not a slut!”, scrabbled to my feet and tackled Astrid to the ground. Ty lost his grip on her and swore, and we went down again. The crowd cheered, like they were at a UFC match, not a rock concert. We wrestled, limbs flailing as we each tried to get a good hit on the other. I clocked an elbow to the face before somehow I got her on her back and sat on her chest. She slapped at me and I leaned back out of range, grabbed both her wrists as they waved in front of my face and I pinned them to the stage, leaning all my weight on her arms. She was down! She couldn’t do
anything
!

“Leave us alone,” I said. “Get your own boyfriend!”

“But we’re meant to be together!” Astrid cried, tears squirting out of the corners of her eyes and running down toward her ears. “He loves
me
!”

“Wait, what?” Ty asked. “I don’t even know you. I never said that!” He turned to me with freaked out eyes. “I never said that.”

I made a strangled noise as security hauled me off Astrid. Two others grabbed her and went to drag her off the stage. But the talent seemed to be having a conversation with her, so they hesitated. This was probably unfamiliar territory for them, I figured. No guidelines for when fans run onto the stage but the artist decides to stop the show and have a chat rather than keep playing and let security whisk them away with a hefty fine or lock them up or whatever happens. Uh–oh. I wish I’d thought about that: What
does
happen?

“You didn’t need to say it, I could tell!” Astrid cried.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I knew this chick was a freak,” he muttered.

“Well thanks for doing
nothing
about it,” I said to him.

The crowd watched in rapt silence. Some of them were taking photos. Of course they were.

Only then did I notice a couple of cranes with cameras panning over the crowd, facing the stage. What was that about?

Wait a minute, there were guys and a chick with press passes around their necks standing with security between the stage and the barrier that kept the crowd back. They each had professional camera equipment settled on their shoulders, pointed up at us. There was a woman with a clipboard who was pointing at where to shoot. What was going on here?

“I don’t love you,” Ty said to Astrid as her eyes got all bloodshot and puffy and tears rolled freely down her face. He looked mortified, like his worst, most embarrassing nightmares had come true.

Ty moved to me, hesitated for a moment, then took my hand in his, still facing Astrid. “I love Poppy.”

The security guy holding me didn’t know what to do for a second, then let go of me and stepped away. My stomach fluttered at Ty’s words. Did he mean it? Had he also thought about our break all day and realized it was a mistake as well? Before I could do anything, even smile, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.