Under My Thumb // Mick Jagger

002

The man stands up and I look up at him from where I was sitting on the ground. "My name is Mick, by the way," he says. Mick was an odd name. I've never heard it before.

I hesitate before speaking. "I'm Maria." My voice came out as a whisper. Maria was the first name that I could think of—but it wasn't my name. I needed a new start.

And a new start meant a new name.

He reaches his hand down for me to grab. I cower down at the gesture. Mick was intimidating, especially when he closely stood over me.  "C'mon, we're gonna be in the way if we stay here. And I've got to unload our equipment soon," he says. I take his hand, which was much larger than mine, and he helps me up. "What'd you say your name was? Could barely hear you whispering down there."

I let go of Mick's hand and hold my hands together in front of me. "Maria," I say again, a little louder this time.

He nods his head. "Alright then, Maria. Let's head inside." He softly pushes my backpack that I was wearing, urging me to move inside, which I do.

The room was mostly dark, but it was filled with colored lights that added to the atmosphere. It was slightly cooler inside than outside, but there wasn't too much of a difference. Tables were lined on the sides of the room and there was a large cleared out section in front of the stage for the audience to stand.

I look up at Mick, waiting for him to tell me where we were heading. He loosely places his arm around my shoulder and directs me to the backstage room. "The rest of the band is in here," he cautions me while opening the door.

I walk inside to the noisy room, only, when I entered, the noise immediately stopped. Mick was standing behind me and all eyes turned to me. I felt my face warm. I've never been one who liked attention, though I wish I was. I just lacked the confidence to do so.

"Nice job, Mick. Already got yourself a groupie," a man with black hair speaks. A few of the other men let out a laugh at his statement.

I take a step back, my back hitting Mick's chest on accident. I forgot how close he was standing to me. I was nervous when it was only Mick with me, but four more men in addition was a new level of anxiety.

Mick puts his hands on my shoulders. "Quit it, Keith. This is Maria. She's touring with us for a while because she's got no where else to be...and she's not a groupie," Mick says. I didn't know what a groupie was, but Mick seemed adamant that I wasn't one. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Touring with us?" Another man with black hair chimes in. "That means you'll be sleeping on the couch, Mick."

I hear Mick sigh and he pats my shoulder. "I might send you to the couch instead, Bill," he jokes with the man, who I guess was Bill. "Put your backpack down over there," he whispers in my ear and points to the corner of the room. "And take a seat on the couch. I'll grab you something to eat."

I do as I was told and walk to the corner, still cautious of the few pairs of eyes on me. There were two couches in the room we were in. One had three people and the other only one. I take my seat on the opposite end of the person on the less crowded couch.

Mick walks out of the room, leaving me alone with the four men. For some reason, I felt more comfortable with Mick than the others. I don't think he necessarily liked me being around, but he was nice enough to let me tag along in the first place. Maybe it was just because he was the only one I have really talked to. I sit as close as I can to the corner of the couch with my hands wrapped around myself.

"Maria, I'm Keith," Keith introduces himself, though I already knew his name from when Mick said it a few minutes ago. He was sitting directly across from me. "No need to be nervous. We're a lot less scary than Mick, promise you that. And Mick isn't all that scary anyway."

I nod my head, though I was annoyed with myself for how noticeable my anxiety was.

The other two people on Keith's couch introduced themselves as Charlie and Bill, and the one sitting on the same couch as me told me his name was Brian before Mick walked back into the room.

"We've got to go get our stuff off the bus," Mick says to his band mates when he comes back into the room. He walks over and kneels down in front of me. "I've got you some food." I noticed how his tone changed when he spoke to me. He seemed much more gentle with me, like he was afraid if he talked to me with his normal voice he would hurt me. I'm assuming he could tell just how nervous I was and didn't want to add to it.

I take the plate filled with fries and a burger from him. "Thank you," I say, avoiding making eye contact with him. I couldn't help but feel like I was being a burden. He's letting me stay with him out of pity, not because he wants me here.

"Stay here while we're gone, yeah?" Mick says. His hand rests on my knee, and I look up at him, his deep, blue eyes meeting mine. "I don't want you getting into any trouble." The tone of his voice was lighthearted, but I could tell there was a hint of strictness hidden in there too.

I nod my head, and, when I do, Mick stands up. "We'll see you in a couple hours after our show," he tells me before walking out with the rest of the band. Brian and Keith both give me a wave before exiting which I acknowledge by giving them a quick smile.

//

There wasn't much to do in the room except for listening to the band play. That wasn't a problem for me, though—they sounded good. I had finished my burger and some of the fries a while ago and was now lying down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

If there was one thing I learned from sitting in this empty room all night, it was that Mick was the signer. He had such a distinct voice. I could recognize it even though the sound was muffled through the walls. I liked his voice—I liked that it was unique. It sounded like Keith was singing backup vocals, but I wasn't too sure.

"Thank you, San Diego!" Mick's muffled voice speaks into the microphone. I hear the audience cheer for a while before it eventually dies down. I sit up in the same spot I was in before the band went out to play while I patiently wait for them to return.

And, after about twenty minutes, Keith finally walks in. The rest of the band follows with a shirtless Mick being the last one to enter. His eyes immediately dart to me, like he wanted to make sure I was still here and didn't run off somewhere. I quickly look away when he looks at me.

"You should've came out and watched us!" Keith says while carrying his guitar. He looked sweaty, all the boys did. It was especially noticeable on Mick. I could see the shine on his chest.

I open my mouth to speak, but Mick chimes in before I have the opportunity to. "No, it's better for here to stay in the back when we perform. I don't want anyone getting any ideas while one of us isn't watching over her," he says. He tosses his shirt onto the table that was between the two couches.

I frown and look at him. "I'm eighteen, Mick. I don't need a babysitter," I say. My voice was quiet but assertive.

Keith walks passed Mick and nudges his shoulder before going to sit on the other couch. "You heard the girl. She doesn't need a babysitter," he says with a chuckle. Mick ignores him, though.

"Exactly. You're eighteen. That's why you need me keeping an eye out for you," Mick tells me. His voice was assertive like mine, only he spoke with a confidence that I have yet to been able to speak with around these boys.

"But I'm technically an adu—" I start to argue, but he shakes his head and cuts me off.

"Maria, c'mon. I want to have a chat with you. Alone." His voice startled me. It was louder and more aggressive than I had expected.

I look over at Keith, hoping he'd help me out again, but he only raises his hands like he was surrendering. Mick was standing at the doorway, looking right at me. His eyebrows were slightly raised and his lips were pressed together. He looked angry, and I knew I had messed up.

I stand up from the couch and slowly make my way over to Mick. "Don't be nervous. Mick wouldn't hurt a fly," Charlie says as I walk passed him.

And, while I appreciated the gesture, it didn't calm my nerves in the slightest.