Blonde Ivory

#38: Macha Levay-Fitzgilbert

Macha Levay-Fitzgilbert (Bassist of Blonde Ivory)

I make it back to the apartment with only thirty minutes until the dinner is scheduled to take place. My social media is buzzing with fans mentioning me in their posts and expressing how excited they  Hey are to have bought tickets to see us. They send in pictures of the outfit they're going to wear and if it is vibe-worthy for me. I only respond to some of them before I decide that it is time for me to get dressed.

I pull on a simple sweater with leggings and converse. I don't feel bothered enough to do my hair and makeup and suffer through finding a pair of jeans that still fit over my bloated thighs all for a dinner that will probably only last an hour maximum. When we're all dressed, we sit on the couch, waiting for the driver to get here and pick us up. We've all been so anxious about the tour starting that we all got ready with plenty of time to rest our feet on the coffee table.

It might be too much free time though. I don't know if I like having lots of time to think over the tour and how many people are going to show up to see us. Kasey stands up to adjust her leather skirt that definitely has no panties under it and her matching leather bralette. This seems to disrupt the anxious silence between all of us.

"Guys, I'm really nervous," Hayden pipes up with an anxiety-heavy tone, "I really don't know if I can do this. Maybe I should just stay home. I'll sign over all the music, and you guys can just find another bassist who is just a capable as I am." Kasey shakes her head and grabs Hayden's hands.

"Calm down... We're all in this together. We aren't going to leave your side," she says through a small smile. "We'll be with you every step of the way."

Shiloh stands from her seat and kneels down in front of Hayden. She places her hands on both of Hayden's jean-clad knees and smiles up at her with a soft look of motherly affection. "There is nothing you have to worry about, baby. You have practiced so much. These are your songs... There is genuinely no way that you can mess this up. You will be great, okay?" she says.

I know their words are directed at Hayden, but they somehow ease the anxiety building up in my stomach. I wonder if anxiety is bad for fetuses. If a pregnant woman is anxious, can her baby feel anxious too? What if I feel anxious before every performance on tour? Would my baby suffer?

Maybe going on this tour is a bad idea. I look between my three friends, taking in how they seem so worried about Hayden... Does nobody care about the outcome of my child? Is anyone worried that this might be the wrong decision for me? Does anybody want to comfort me?

I hear a car horn honk loud enough to be heard through the pouring rain. We all look at each other with wide eyes, before we stand up slowly. I'm the last one to leave, but before I shut the door behind me, I swallow my anxiety. I try to put on an aura of confidence, but it's no use. If anybody speaks to me, I'll be a babbling mess.

Please, let this go well.

~

The restaurant Mark booked for us is less wealthy and luxurious than I was expecting. I expecting to see an abundance of chandeliers, bright red carpet, gold colored walls that perfectly compliment the accents made of real gold, and, of course, a staff this all male and dressed in perfectly steamed tuxedos.

That was not the case. In fact, you can imagine how shocked I was when the driver pulled into the parking lot of a rundown and probably cockroach-infested McDonald's. However, he did at least have the decency to rent it out while we're here. As we walk in, the paparazzi snap a few photos. I wear a fake, wide smile for a few seconds to make sure the fans won't think that I'm pissed off.