Tracks (Rock Bottom) (3 page)

Just as the crowd had calmed a little, a loud, long guitar cord rings out th
rough the sound system. I jump at the unexpected sound, as do many girls around me. The crowd goes silent for a moment, also in surprise, and then once again roars in excitement.

Theresa grabs my arm. “Oh my God!!!”
she screams. I wiggle out of her grip.

I can see movement behind the left side of the stage as a guitar riff starts to play. The sound is beautiful, unlike any guitar sound I’d ever heard. The cords fad
e into each other effortlessly, without a mistake or pause. A few men run on stage during this time, picking up instruments laid out on the stage. One man sits behind a set of drums.

After the band gets situated, they begin to play as well, complementing the melody of the guitar. The lights go ablaze on the stage, and a man steps out of the wings where I had been seeing movement.

If the sound had been deafening before, it was earth shattering now. I put my hands up to my ears for a moment, and drop them once I’m used to the noise. The man struts- there’s really no other word for the way he moves- across the stage and up to a microphone planted in the center, directly in front of where we’re standing. His pirate-like smile is wide and gleaming in the stage lights, but it fades quickly back into his familiar serious expression. His body is not as slight as it seems on TV. He’s tall and long, with wiry muscles outlining his forearms. Okay, he’s attractive. I can appreciate that.

I
feel the back of my chair hit the inset of my knees as it’s pushed by the girls behind me and I step forward.

The movement must have cau
ght his attention, and he looks down at me, a natural reaction.

I’m immobilized
, in shock of my sudden increased heart rate. His beautiful blue eyes are intense as he stares at me, piercing me through my soul. His face relaxes as he makes eye contact with me, seeming almost surprised himself. Meanwhile, his fingers continue to move effortlessly along the neck of the guitar, playing a beautifully loud melody.

We held each other’s eyes for a moment, my mind blank. As suddenly as it had happened, he looked away from me and his expression fixed itself on his face.
I’m still frozen.

Theresa yells
in my ear, “He totally looked at you! Oh my God! Awesome.”

“Yeah…” I say, under my breath. I don
’t even have a snarky comment to make.

The concert continued and I found myself enjoying it. As the songs went on, the crowd’s excitement and fervor grew.
I saw girls run up the isle next to us and attempt to crawl over the fencing in front of the stage, but they were quickly snatched by the overly present security. The man can dance, and he sure can perform. I even found myself smiling while watching him.

Strangely, throughout the show, I felt as if he was looking at me every few minutes. I guess that’s part of the appeal of him, looking at all the women as if he’s hunting them with his gorgeous eyes and sculpted face.
I feel him looking at me again, and I see him step forward to reach his hand over the stage, into the crowd. It seems to come directly to me.

Theresa reaches over and grabs his hand immediately. She’s knocked away by security quickly. More hands appear in front of me, and he grabs them all. I look up at his face, close to me, and find him staring at me. I am
again frozen under his stare.

More hands continue to find him, and I feel my chair being pushed against me again. I am knocked from behind as a girl jumps over my seat and hits me in the back. I stumble forward, releasing his gaze from mine and trying to catch my footing.
Before I’m able to, I am knocked from the side by another girl, and then again from behind by yet another fan. I fall to my knees, catching myself with my hands. I feel feet step on my back hard, and I fall to my stomach so that I’m flat on the ground. Out of instinct, I put my hands up to cover my head. I feel more feet step on my legs, and I scream.

“Stop!”
I hear a man’s voice shout, loudly. Some of the music trails off. “Stop, stop, stop!” I hear again. The music stops dead.

“Help her.
Now!”

I don’t move, I still lay on the floor with my hands over my head, but I can tell the women are moving away from me. I look up just in time to see a man walking towards me, moving the wo
men around him roughly.

The guard- a young, tall,
dark as night man at least 300 pounds-throws me up into his arms. I gasp as I am suddenly being whisked through the crowd, which easily parts like the red sea when they notice the big man coming towards them. He pushes through a heavy, grey metal door. It’s pitch black when we first enter, and I hear the door shut with a bang as the man hurries down the hall with me still in his arms. It gets brighter in the hall as we approach five or six rooms on either side of the light green hallway, all doorways without doors. As we pass the first room on the left, smoke is pouring out in gray bunches and there is hard rock music playing loudly on a stereo. Seven or eight young people are sitting around a red couch smoking what looks to be cigarettes, but I'm not given time to investigate as we hurry past the room and into the doorway of the second room on the left.

The room is silent and empty aside from another old, red
couch sitting dilapidated in the middle. The couch has a few folding chairs surrounding it, and a small white desk with a mirror against the wall. The man sits me gently down on the couch and kneels next to me, thankfully blocking the bright light from the fluorescents above us. In a soft but deep voice, he says "Are you ok, miss?"

I look around the room in shock as I think for a minute.
I mentally check my body. Yes, I believe I'm in one piece. "Yes," I stammer out. "I'm ok. I'm not hurt."

The man nods and looks away as he tou
ches a button on a black microphone that hangs from his ear. "Got it," he says in his deep voice. He looks back to me. "The doctor on staff is going to take a look at you."

I sigh. I did just say I was alright.
I hate this kind of fuss and attention. The fact that he stopped the whole concert just for me was enough to make me want to die. All of those people looking at me getting carried like an infant…ugh.

I suddenly think of Theresa. Damn, I left her out there all alone and she's probably worried. "Um
..." I say as the man gets up from his knees in front of the couch. "I...I came with my girlfriend...and she's out there and worried..."

He nods. I can still hear the concert, which has continued, blaring from far down the hall and outside the steel door. "No problem
, miss," the man says loudly. "I saw her next to you. I'll go get her and bring her back here."

I smile lightly. "Thank you." I say as he turns away. She'll flip knowing she's going to come backstage, even if
there’s not much to be excited about. I realize that I'd never myself been backstage at a concert- but I must admit I expected it to be much more stirring than this.

I wait a few minutes
, lost in my thoughts, until I hear a light knocking at the doorway. I look up quickly and see a man with a light blue and white stripped polo shirt and black pants enter. He's older, maybe 50, with greying hair and gentle brown eyes. He carries a black bag and has a stethoscope around his overly tan neck.

He smiles. "Miss, um..."

"Ackhart. Dylan." I smile.

"
Miss Ackhart. I'm Doctor Philips. I heard you had a spill," he says, as he kneels beside me and begins to take out his things.

I wanted to say, 'No, actually, a bunch of crazy fan girls knocked me down like a bowling pin and then trampled on me like a stampede of wild bulls,' but I d
ecided to give my sarcastic side a rest, and nodded instead.

As the doctor looks me over with all of his gadgets, I hear another, fainter knock at the doorway. Theresa comes in, looking around the room with a worried look on her face. Relief washes over her as her eyes lock with mine. She runs over to me, crossing the couch from behind as to not disturb the doctor, and kneels beside him, clo
se to my head.

"Dylan!" she cries. "Oh God I was so worried!" she grabs the hand that is hanging off the couch. "I couldn't get to you to help you up. I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?" she as
ks, as she looks at the doctor.

"No," Dr. Phillips smiles. "She's just fine. A few bruises here and there, maybe." He begins to put his things back in the bag. Theresa smiles at me. Dr. Phillips stands up and grabs his bag in his left hand. "Take care now Miss Ackhart. You can go whenever
you wish, but take your time."

I look at Theresa as her smile widens with
excitement. "Thank you again."

Theresa and I are silent as the doctor leaves the room and his
footsteps fade down the hallway. "Ah!" Theresa shrieks. "Backstage!"

I wince as I sit up more. I admit I'm starting to feel that bruising. "Thanks," I mumble. "Glad to see you were so worried.
Its girls like you who put me here."

She rolls her eyes. "I
was
worried. But, you're obviously fine and now we're back stage! At Jeremy Mason’s concert! Oh my God, everyone will die when they hear. Let's go explore!"

I roll my eyes as I get up from the couch slowly, first sitting and then standing up. I feel a bit dizzy but I attribute that to being carried by the big man and the smoke pouring out of the room next store. Theresa grabs my hand as we walk out of the room
and back into the dimly lit green hallway. We hear clapping and cheering from the stage down the hall.

"I think the show must be over," Theresa says loudly, above the clapping and
the music from the smoke room.

Suddenly, we hear what seems like thousands of foo
tsteps coming towards us from where the concert hall is located. When I squint, I can just make out a wall of people walking in our direction. I pull Theresa up against the wall with me just in time for the people to pass.

There are men with huge digital cameras, beautiful women in business suits carrying microphones being followed by camera men, barely dressed girls slinking behind, and men carrying various pieces of stage equipment. Theresa and I watch silently. This is more of the pandemonium I expected from being backstage at
the biggest tour in the world.

Behind the men with stage equipment come more photographers with lights flashing away. I see the big man that carried me backstage walking behind the photographers, with two more men who look like him walking behind him on either side, creating a V shape around a man in the middle. Theresa squeezes my hand in recognition as the men turn to a doorway just past us on the right side of the hall, the only one with a door, and push the man insid
e. The door closes behind him.

The photographers and news anchors stop to take pictures and talk to their cameras. I overhear one bubbly blonde anchor say, "That was Jeremy M
ason after his show at the Wilbur Theater."

I turn and look at Theresa. She mouths,
"Oh my God." Her brown skin looks almost pale.

I suddenly feel a tug at my right hand. I turn quickly and see one of the slinky girls from the crowd. She has a short leather skirt on with ripped up black fishnets and ankle length boots. She has a red halter top that bares her midriff and barely covers her large breasts. She has a pixie-like face and a pierced nose, with striking red hair. She leans closer t
o my ear. "Come with me," she breathes into my ear.

I hesitate and look at Theresa, who is oblivious. "Trust me," she whispers loudly
in my ear. "It's crazy here."

I begin to follow, pulling Theresa with me. We enter
the doorway to the smoke room.

The girl lets go of my hand as we enter. The smoke instantly surrounds us and I identify the familiar smell as cigarettes. There are glas
ses all over the room that looks like the one I was placed in except there’s a small, brown coffee table in front of the red couch. There’s a blue iPod dock on the white mirror desk playing alternative rock. A man and woman are currently having sex on the couch and not being shy about it. Neither are the two big breasted blondes making out shirtless on one of the folding chairs in the corner, one sitting on top of another, their hands all over each other. The other 5 or 6 people are standing around: talking, drinking, and some watching the, um, 'action.'

My face must have been white and shocked because
I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life. As far as virgin eyes go, I’m almost about as virgin as one can get. When I look at slinky girl, she smiles a sly smile and rolls her eyes. "Rock and roll, Emeralds," she says, before she lets go of my hand and turns back to a group of friends talking. I beat my bright green eyes bashfully, embarrassed at my ignorance and inexperience.

I look at Theresa and she seems to have the same uncomfortable look as me. This is not where two girls about to go into Harvard Law feel at home. We both wordlessly turn for the doorway at the same time, when suddenly the big man that pulled me from the cro
wd appears, blocking the exit.

"Miss," he says, low with a nod. "Mr. M
ason would like a word with you, if that's alright."