Meet Me In The Pit

Chapter Ten - You've Got To Be F*cking Kidding Me

Keira:

Score: Rockstar - Nickelback

"Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh my God!" Lisa's high-pitched shrieks pound another nail in my already impaired hearing. I don't think I've ever experienced anything as loud, as my super-excited best friend.

We are walking down the corridors of the make-shift backstage area, with Jack leading the way towards the boys' dressing room. Meeting the band backstage was one of Lisa's conditions to keep her mouth shut, and I decided to keep my mouth shut about having arranged this ages ago, even before I had known I'd have to bribe her.

"Anything for you, darling," I say, stepping over a bunch of cables, haphazardly lying on the floor.

"Oh, my God, this is the best birthday present EVER!" Lisa clasps her hands around the All Areas Access pass, hanging on a band around her neck. As the name suggests, the pass gives us permission to go practically anywhere we want. We can go backstage, we can watch the concert from anywhere we want, we can, at a previously arranged time, meet the band before the concert, and then Lisa can spend some time with them after.

"How long does Lisa have with the band?" I ask Jack, as we turn yet another corner in the maze that the technicians have put together at the back of the stadium.

"Wait, what?" Lisa's hand closes around my wrist and I am forced to stop in my tracks and turn to look at her. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"Fifteen minutes," Jack says over his shoulder, as we reach a door with a silver plastic plate on it that reads "Dressing Room" in large black letters. He nods to the guard, standing next to the door with his tattooed arms folded across his enormous chest, and the mountain of a man moves slightly to the side, giving Jack and us full access to the door.

We're here.

Jack opens the door and holds it open for us, but Lisa doesn't move, her hand firmly gripping my wrist. Laughter and loud voices spill from the brightly lit room. I quickly skim my eyes over the now familiar faces of Garry, Josh, and the other Benjamin, sitting around on a bunch of sofas, sipping Fiji water, in full on-stage attire. A petite girl with pixie blonde hair, wearing a white tank top, which reveals her arms, fully covered in tattoos, is currently trying to tame Garry's long, ginger curls with excessive amounts of hair spray, while another girl, dressed in all-black, is filming the band with her phone. The gorgeous goddess, who doesn't like me, and whose name, I have learned since this morning, is Jeanine Thompson, is sitting on the sofa next to Josh, who has his arm draped over her shoulders.

I can basically feel my eyes flare and my lips part in surprise. (Yes, I am also fucking dying to know what the interviewer from The Sound of Music meant by asking Benjamin what he could tell them about Jeanine Thompson, and what Benjamin's blatantly cryptic response meant. "She's a great professional." Doing what exactly, I'm yet to find out.) She lifts her gaze in our direction, prompted by Jack opening the door, and her eyes catch mine briefly, immediately narrowing into a glare.

What the fuck is her problem?

I tear my eyes away from hers and swipe my gaze across the rest of the room quickly, but, before I can find what, or, rather, who, I am looking for, a sharp pain in my wrist brings my attention back to Lisa.

After spending a good hour-and-a-half at the state-of-the-art spa of Lavet Barcelona this afternoon, once the boys had taken off for a sound check and to see the stage, Lisa and I had mani-pedis, and my best friend's freshly painted, slightly pointed nails are now digging into the skin just above my wrist.

I blink quickly and swallow hard, trying to think of a better excuse as to why I won't be joining Lisa for her Meet-and-Greet with the band, other than the fact I don't fucking want to see a certain band member.