How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Forty One: Smile

Well, three down, three to go. Phil wasn't exactly easy to convince. As soon as my words sunk in he asked for immediate proof. "I don't believe a word of it," he said smiling. "Nah, I'm gonna need ya' to prove it, love."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward Stelle. He kept up his cheerful skepticism but it began to falter. Stelle examined us and without a word she knew I told him. "How'd it go?" she asked me.

"Phil doesn't believe me," I said and we both looked at him. Phil stuck his hands in his pockets and laughed.

"It's jus' ridiculous," he said, probably hoping we'd start laughing with him. "Nobody can do that." He frowned when neither of us laughed. He looked back and forth between us. "Right? That's impossible."

No amount of talk could convince Phil I was from the future. Furthering his disbelief, I had nothing tangible to prove it. No cell phone, no modern camera, no books with a futuristic copyright date, nothing. We went back to our respective hotels, Phil thinking we were crazy. 

Now we sat together before another photo shoot. The boys were getting a feature in a magazine and they needed to be awake and put together at the ass crack of dawn to get it done. Angus sat with us, having already been filled in as well. "What do ya' think?" Angus asked him. 

Phil smoked his cigarette and shook his head. "I think I'm surrounded by nut jobs," he muttered. 

"What, ya' don't think she done it?" he asked, smiling. Phil rubbed the sleep from his eyes and didn't answer. "I read the notebook, she told me everythin'."

"I'm dreamin', is all," Phil said. "I'm still asleep an' you're jus' figments of imaginary..."

"I believe her," Angus said, cutting him off. "Can't go against that notebook, there's some hairy stuff written down." My heart fluttered and I looked away from the group. A man walked through the front doors of the studio with a camera hooked up to a tripod and another smaller one around his neck. His beret was tilted and I snickered. 

"Okay, everyone, let's get this show on the road." This man had the strongest Canadian accent I'd ever heard. Phil stood up and left us immediately and Angus patted me on the back before joining him. Stelle and I watched everyone get set up and adjusted for pictures. Stelle crossed her arms and huffed. 

"This guy obviously hasn't been in business long," she muttered to me. "He'd be set up long before now. He should have been the first one here."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "We got to horse around." Like when a teacher is absent from class, the photographer being late gave us time to chat and goof off before the shoot. That being said, the sooner they got it done the sooner they could go back to the hotel. And judging by Phil's expression, he needed a day to sleep.

Especially after dropping the news on him like that. He glanced over at me a couple times and I tried to smile. Finally he gave a small one back before turning his attention back to the camera man. I slumped over in my chair. "Don't worry about it, he'll come around," Stelle said. 

"He hates my guts," I moped. "They all do."

"No they don't," she said. "If they did they wouldn't be trying to make us laugh." She nodded toward them and I looked to see the boys messing around with a broom that had been leaning against the wall. Angus thought it would be funny to place the broom between his legs and aim the handle toward the ceiling. And then make eye contact with Stelle and I. Holding in a laugh as hard as I could, I finally burst out in a guffaw. 

"Yes, yes, very funny," the camera man said, rolling his eyes. Bon bit down on the end of the broom and Stelle snorted so loud the camera man sighed and took his glasses off to rub his eyes. 

"See?" Stelle said, wiping a tear off her cheek. "They don't hate you, they're not even mad." My laughter had died down as the shoot went on and I deflated again. "What's wrong?"

"How am I going to tell the others?" I asked. Unless Angus or Phil accidentally spilled the beans to one of the others, I needed to find more excuses to catch them and explain myself. Maybe I could get them all together...get it all over with...away from the camera man...

"You've got some time," Stelle said. "December fifth, right?"

I sighed and twiddled my thumbs. "Right..."

**********

After the photo shoot was finished, we sat around to talk while the photographer cleaned up. Cliff brought a notebook and wrote some things down, choosing me to sit next to as he did so. "You an' Stelle got somewhere to be later?" he asked me. Stelle and 'Ronald' were deep in conversation on the other side of the room. "I mean, besides the show?"

"No, I don't think so," I said. "Just a regular day."

"That's too bad," Cliff said. "I mean, it's a nice day out. I'd go out myself if we didn't have soundcheck in an hour." I watched him scribble something down and then cross it out. Glancing around the room, I noticed the photographer in his own little world and Angus and Phil staring right at me. Malcolm was talking to them while lighting a cigarette but I wasn't sure how much of his words they caught. I turned away from them and Cliff looked over his writing. "Not bad," he said. 

"What is it?" I asked before I could stop myself. 

"Jus' a bit more song writin'," he said. "Kind of fun. Not lookin' to hit platinum. But it keeps me busy." He looked me over. "Where's your notebook?"

"I've decided to take a break," I said. "It's a hassle to carry it around with me." And the safer it was in Stelle's room, the less chance it had of falling into the wrong hands. The urge to blurt out the truth was almost too much to bear. If this place hadn't been so crowded I might have had out with it. If I could just steer the conversation back to making plans for various evenings, I could get an afternoon alone with him without seeming like I was asking him out. "The band having any more parties?"

"Not unless you count my birthday in a few weeks," he said. "But we'll be on the road by then. Might jus' have a drink or four." I nodded. How did people do this? Just.....ask? Oh, this is so awkward! What's wrong with me? "Lookin' to have one?"

"Not really," I shrugged. "But I wouldn't mind a few more nights out before going home." Cliff nodded in understanding and wrote a few more things down. 

"Ought to be fun. Hope ya' get a chance." I almost slammed my head repeatedly against the table. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Angus talking to Malcolm, Phil looking at the floor. Stelle was holding the broom out like a limbo stick for Bon to walk under. The photographer had his giant camera packed away and snapped a couple extra photos with the camera around his neck. "That magazine is gonna have a lot of pictures to choose from."

"Is it going on the cover?" I asked.

"Nah, they've got that filled up with UFO," Cliff said. "We're jus' a tiny article." 

"Come on, just one more."

"Nah, mate, I'm goin'." Malcolm walked past our table toward the front door, giving me a pat on the shoulder as he left with his cigarette. The photographer sighed. 

"Mal's beat," Cliff said. "Me too, if I'm honest."

I envied Malcolm. Able to get up and walk away if he so wanted. Didn't have to succumb to the bullshit of everyday life. Didn't fuck around, didn't play games. No beating around the bush with him. You don't fuck with Malcolm Mitchell Young.

"Cliff? I have to tell you something," I said. Time to step my ass up and get this done. One less person to overhear and if I didn't act now, Cliff would up and leave just like Malcolm. 

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, paying half attention to me and half attention to his notebook. I looked around the room once more just to make sure no one else I hadn't told was listening. 

"I'm from-"

"Smile!" The photographer appeared out of nowhere and snapped a photo of Cliff and I before I could get the words out.