Marcy always felt cold. The autumn air seemed to cut right through her. She was skinny. Frail. Anybody could see it. Her wrists were absolutely tiny and her fingers were boney and her knuckles stuck out.
Marcy didn't eat much anymore. Her stomach was always protesting. Food wasn't very appetizing. Just the thought made her queasy. When she did force something down, a slice of bread for example, Marcy found herself doubled over the toilet, throwing it right back up again.
She didn't wear much either, which probably didn't help. It was a particularly cold day so Marcy had pulled on a pair of stockings underneath her skirt. Her arms were bare and covered in goosebumps. Most of Marcy's chest had been exposed too, thanks to the low cut shirt she had opted for, despite the dark clouds she'd seen outside when dressing herself that morning. She could almost feel the stares she received whenever somebody caught sight of her cleavage. Marcy would have been lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.
"Aren't you freezing?" Gilby asked her. He was clearly straining himself to keep eye contact.
Marcy shook her head and let a gentle laugh escape from between her lips. She was watching Saul, who stood a couple of meters away, tuning his guitar.
There was something about him that changed when he played, or even just held an instrument. His features became very soft and his eyebrows furrowed just the tiniest bit, like he was concentrating very, very hard.
He became lost in the music. Completely engrossed in what he was doing. Everybody knew there was no point trying to talk to him when he was like that. Saul couldn't hear anything other than the sounds coming from his guitar - which was almost an extension of his body. He became blind to everything happening around him.
Marcy had never seen anything like it before. Watching Saul play felt sort of spiritual. His music was something that made her wonder if the world was really such an awful place as she'd thought. Marcy had seen how he closed his eyes when he was up on stage, playing a solo. And how the whole crowd, thousands and thousands of people, all seemed to connect with Saul in that fleeting moment.
Marcy never wanted to miss a chance to see him play in front of a full arena like that - which was why she had decided to brave it outside in the cold weather. The band was preparing for sound check. Everybody was making absolute sure that the instruments were in full working order and that Axl's microphone was padded, because he tended to throw it around a lot during shows.
"... and so Matt said I shouldn't drink Malibu anymore but that's not fair, because he did it too." Gilby finished.
Marcy grinned sheepishly. She had been too caught up in her own thoughts to notice him talking to her. "Have you ever tried Nightrain? The drink they wrote that song about." She hoped she wasn't accidentally changing the subject.
Marcy was always zoning out like that. It usually seemed to happen in the middle of a conversation. She had an easily distracted mind, which flitted from thought to thought so quickly that she barely had time to keep up.
Everything that was going on at the moment just made it worse. She couldn't stop thinking about Izzy and Heidi and Aubrey. Marcy wanted to fly out and visit them more than anything in the world but knew she couldn't ask Saul for the money. Izzy didn't want anyone in the band to know about Heidi. Marcy understood. If they knew, they'd want to meet her and that couldn't happen. The GNR guys would only set a bad impression on Heidi.
"No," Gilby shook his head. "I haven't. I've heard a lot about it though."
His gaze trailed slowly down her body. Marcy recognized the glint in his eyes as one of desire. She'd been looked at like that enough times to know he wanted her.
