How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Thirty One: Guitar Strings

"So what's goin' on with you an' Ang?"

I looked up from my notebook and saw Malcolm standing over me. He had his guitar strapped over himself and a bottle in one hand. His eyes were barely visible behind his long hair. We were backstage yet again, Stelle and I. Stelle was working on some photos of the crowd from the wings before the show started, Janis as her guest helping out, and I was writing, keeping to myself. What on earth did he mean "going on"? "Nothing," I said. 

Malcolm sat next to me and started tuning his guitar. "Ya' sure? Couldn't help but notice he's a bit tricky around ya' nowadays," he said focusing on his instrument. I looked around the room for Angus and saw him sharing a laugh with Cliff. 

We still hadn't talked.

I hadn't had the opportunity to come out and ask him if he read the notebook. It was obvious he read something by the way he looked at me. Malcolm wasn't imagining things. But anytime I even looked in Angus' direction he found something to keep him busy. This was something else....the one man I've ever had a serious crush on...and this is what comes of it. 

Was I really the worst person in the world for lying about my past? My job? The fact that I'm from 2024? 

I was starting to think so. 

"Is he givin' you a hard time?" Malcolm asked, looking at me with concern. "Cause I'll shake him up a bit if ya' want."

"No! No, that's fine," I said quickly. Angus didn't need any "shaking up". "Thank you."

"Sure, love." Malcolm went back to playing and I went back to writing. There wasn't anyone left to interview but since they weren't leaving Australia just yet, I might as well hang out a bit longer. Hoping I'd go back to my own time before Stelle decided to take off to Germany. What would I do if I were stuck here for the rest of my life? I didn't have a place to live or a steady job, I didn't even have a passport to show I came here by rules of the law! I was a criminal! 

I'll be arrested and I'll never get to publish my fanfic. 

"I tried talkin' to him a bit," Malcolm went on. "Wouldn't say anythin' but he kept lookin' over at you. Figured somethin' must be goin' on."

"Nothing," I said simply. "Nothing's going on."

Malcolm looked like he didn't believe me. "Alright," he said. "Guess I'll keep grillin' him."

Stelle and Janis came back from taking pictures and were laughing and talking. "Oh, Hannah! We saw a bird out there holding a big sign saying "Take Me, Bon" on it. Could you imagine being that brave?"

Not in the slightest.

The two went off somewhere to laugh and talk some more and I was left with Malcolm. The other boys were practicing or drinking or making a new friend. I expected Malcolm to want to do the same but he didn't seem to mind sitting by me. 

Well, he still practiced and drank, anyway. 

"You an' Stelle got plans after the show?" he asked. 

"I don't think so," I said. "Maybe Stelle does but not me."

"Hm," was all he said. He was still focused on his playing. It still amazed me how these guitarists didn't seem to get severe hand pain when they twisted them around like that on the neck. I mean...how?? He nodded towards my notebook. "Got anythin' left to ask in there?"

"Not really," I said. I flipped through the pages. Flyers, a newspaper, a backstage pass, and plenty of notes. I really thought I was all set. 

"Ya' sure? Most journalists we've seen don't leave till they know our social security numbers," he said. "Or at least our addresses."