Backstage at the venue in Los Angeles, the final night of the tour buzzed with excitement. The energy was electric, the air thick with anticipation for one last explosive show before everyone headed home. In the green room, Stevie, Christine, Sharon, and Lori sat around a small table, picking at the food catering had provided—crispy chicken strips and golden fries.
"This is actually pretty good," Christine noted, dipping a fry into some ketchup.
Stevie nodded, taking a bite of her chicken. "Not bad for tour food."
"Better than some of the stuff we've had," Sharon added with a smirk, thinking back to some of the more questionable meals they'd encountered on the road.
Lori took a sip of her soda, leaning back in her chair. "I still don't know why the guys didn't just eat here. But whatever, more for us."
The "guys"—Lindsey, Mick, and John—had made plans to go out for dinner after the show, opting to skip catering altogether. The girls, however, just wanted something quick before heading onstage.
After eating, they went off to get ready, slipping into their stage outfits and preparing for the final performance. The show itself was electric, the crowd feeding them energy, and they gave it everything they had. When it was all over, exhausted but exhilarated, they returned to their hotel rooms for a well-deserved night's rest, already thinking about breakfast the next morning before heading home.
The sun barely crept through the hotel curtains when Stevie groaned, her body aching, her stomach twisting painfully. She turned over, pressing a hand to her forehead, feeling a light sheen of sweat. Something wasn't right.
Across the room, her assistant, Karen, stirred as she heard Stevie shift. "You okay?" she asked groggily.
Stevie exhaled sharply. "I don't think I can make it to breakfast. I feel awful."
Karen frowned, sitting up. "Like, how awful?"
"Nauseous. Achy. Just... miserable."
Karen didn't like the sound of that. She reached for the hotel phone and quickly dialed Christine's room, only to be met with a similar response.
Christine groaned into the receiver. "Yeah, breakfast isn't happening. I feel like I've been hit by a truck."
Karen's stomach sank. She hung up and called Sharon next. The same story. And then, finally, Lori.
Karen sighed, rubbing her temple. "Well, that's all four of you."
"What?" Stevie croaked.
"Christine, Sharon, and Lori—they're all sick too."
Stevie blinked slowly. "Oh, no."
Karen sat on the edge of the bed, thinking. "What did you guys do last night? You all were fine before the show."
Stevie thought hard, her mind sluggish. "We... ate catering. Then we went onstage. Then came back here."
Karen's eyes widened. "Catering."
Stevie stared at her for a moment before realization hit. "Oh, shit."
Karen immediately grabbed her phone, texting Christine, Sharon, and Lori with the only explanation that made sense: **Food poisoning.**
Karen wasted no time getting everyone out of the hotel. If they were all going to be sick, they'd be better off at Stevie's house, where at least they'd have space and comfort. Once they arrived, Stevie and Christine collapsed onto Stevie's bed, while Sharon and Lori took the pull-out couch in her master suite.
