Dear Delilah

Chapter 1: Dear Delilah

Chapter 1:

"Thank you all very much!" Ed screams at the audience as he walks off stage after his concert. It really was a great one tonight, and I would know, I've seen every one of them. As he passes me in the wing, he hands me his guitar, and I carefully hold it as I try not to drop my clipboard at the same time. I quickly set my clip board down on a nearby podium and settle his guitar into its case.

"Delilah!" Ed calls from further backstage, and I rush to find him, finally, I see him walking down the long hall way that leads to the buses.

"Yes?" I call, catching up to him. He's only 5'9, but he's quite a lot taller than me, seeing as I am 5'2.

"How much time until we have until the next gig?" He asks me, looking down at me.

"Um, I left my clipboard back there, but I think we have half an hour before we have to get on the buses to make it there on time for set up." I say, trying to collect my thoughts and envision the clipboard. I have a near photographic memory, meaning I can see a page, and memorize it completely. I merely look at it once and I can read it in my head later whenever I want. It's been like this as far as I can remember, but I've been having terrible headaches lately, and it makes everything so much harder.

"Perfect." Ed says, and picks up the pace. I stop, because my tiny legs can only take me so fast.

"Wait! If you give me like 4 minutes I can go check to make sure!" I yell after him.

"That's 4 minutes I can use!" He calls over his shoulder, and finally burst out the doors, only to find hundreds of screaming girls. Greeting his fans, typical. He tries to do so after every show, but he's so busy now a days, he can't do so, and he gets really sad when he can't see them all. Quickly, I rush back and grab my clipboard, I really do need it. I check to be positive, and I was wrong, we have an hour. I quickly tell that to the crew so they know that they can take more time packing up if needed. I jog down the hall and out to Ed, who I then tell that we have an half hour more than I had thought and he smiles a brilliant smile and hugs me.

"A CLAP FOR THE BEST STAGE MANAGER IN THE WORLD EVERYBODY!" Ed yells, and cheers start and I blush, I blush a bright red. I am not in the spot light for a reason. I notice he still has an arm around me, I babble some excuse about needing to see the crew and slip away. I rush back to my podium and lean against it as I sigh and catch my breath. I can already feel another headache coming on and I lean my head against the smooth wood of my podium and try to breathe deeply. Calm Delilah, calm. You don't need this right now. I remind myself that he is famous and I am simply a stage manager, not a manager who absolutely adores an attractive ginger. No, most certainly not that. I don't think I am, at least. I regain my composure and lean over and take out a bottle of Motrin and a water bottle from my bag. I've become accustomed to keeping them in there. I pull out two and quickly swallow them, leaning my head back down on the podium as I wait for them to take effect. I must have been there for a long time, because I hear Ed rush up.

"Delilah!" He says and my head throbs a little bit at the sound of his voice.

"Yes?" I ask, not lifting my head.

"It's been 54 minutes, do we have to go?" He asks sounding like a child who doesn't want to leave the playground.

"Um, yeah. Let me see if the crew is done." I say reluctantly lifting my head and peering out onto the stage. The last crew member is taking the last box off stage, meaning they're done and we need to get going. I pick up my bag and fling in onto my shoulder.

"Let's go." I say to him as he grabs his guitar case and we start to walk down the hallway again. I slip the sunglasses from the top of my head onto my eyes because the hallway lights are hurting my head, and I'm sure once we get outside there will be flashes and screams, so I better prepare myself now.