At Their Very Best

Part 1

You're waiting side stage in your white lab coat, your cue coming up soon. Your arms are filled with various drinks, water for Adam, Gatorade for George, and another bottle of wine for Matty. Your iPad dings with another incoming email on the table next to you.

"Can we try that again?"

Launching up the stairs, you enter the main stage.

Rushing amongst the other coats to each station, you place their new bottles down and take any empties away. Pulling the cork from Matty's bottle, you place it on the Piano in front of him. He pulls out a cigarette and you reach for the lighter inside your coat pocket, igniting it.

"Stop."

You freeze, the flame still flickering.

He lights his cigarette and inhales without looking at you once. Blowing out the fire in your hand, he looks to the audience and explains how he's in control of everything and everyone around him. That when he said the word "stop" he was able to bring the whole production to a halt.

"Go."

You exit the stage.

~ ~ ~

Waking up the next morning at 6am with bleary eyes, you drag yourself out of bed. Your routine is set, never changing despite how little sleep you may have gotten the night previous. Hair in rollers, makeup perfectly applied, incoming emails responded to. You text the band's group chat with their 30-minute warning before you start knocking on doors. Getting dressed, you do a last room check before zipping your bag closed and making your way to the hotel lobby.

Walking to the elevator, you check to see who hasn't responded to your message yet.

George. It was only ever George. Halting in your tracks, you rummage inside your bag, searching for the spare key to his room. Walking back down the hall, you knock loudly twice before going inside.

The room was dark, but the sound of his snoring could be heard several floors down, you were sure of it. Wrenching the curtains open, you greet him loudly.

"We're on the bus in 30, let's go!"

Standing at the concierge counter in the lobby you collected the room keys from members of the crew already waiting with their bags. You begin the slow checkout process, signing off on each room, and arranging payment details for any damages with a pointed look in Ross's direction (he had a terrible habit of adjusting the showerhead to be taller to accommodate his height, but they always broke. Always.)

Adam hands you a paper cup filled with tea as you're finishing up the last of the paperwork and you smile at him gratefully when he grabs your bag, placing it with the others. You signal to your driver, William, that he should bring the bus around to the front of the hotel as you're nearly ready to head out.

The elevator doors ding open and out pours George, his bag open and spilling its contents all over the glossy floors. Matty trailing behind him, collecting shirts and magazines along the way.

"Mate, close your bag" he utters frustrated.

"Shut up" George moans.

Matty rolls his eyes and walks over to you, two sets of room keys in hand.

"This for me?" he grabs the paper cup from your hand. He knows it's not but takes it anyway.

Patting your hip in gratitude, he drinks from it as he makes his way to the bus. Dropping the last of the cards on the counter, you finalize check out with a sigh before making your way to the tour bus. Throwing your laptop bag onto the table in the front booth you do a head count.