blind eyes

02: Sunday

Day number one of a three-month trek across the country. Today, our collective arse was parked in Salt Lake City. With the three massive tour buses located right on the main drag outside the venue, it was no shock that fans had found us and were buzzing me for details — which I don't necessarily mind. I mean, fuck it, if you sign on as the Social Media Coordinator for a band, then you should probably enjoy chatting with people, right? It seems to be an unspoken, inherent part of the job that I, as a representative of said band, should want to go out and meet their fans. So, I do.

The two girls standing in front of me right at this very moment have been largely friendly, though they kept dancing dangerously close to some personal topics. Despite this, they had been respectful, thus far, so who am I to be a bitch? They ask what time sound check is for the day, and I shrug. "I believe it's at 1PM today," I inform the tall brunette with a smile. She was cute, looked to be about eighteen and had a bright yellow pixie cut.

Her face lit up and I spotted braces. Okay, maybe she's not quite legal just yet. "Can we come?"

"I'm sorry," I frown at this all too familiar inquiry. "I don't get to say who is allowed into sound check and who's not. You would have to speak to one of the guys about that." Another shrug. Not trying to be a bitch here, but that's just how it is — I don't get to invite random fans to sound check. I wish the fans would understand that, but it is what it is. Maybe I should try tweeting about that in a day or so and see how it goes over?

The shorter, younger girl — who I guesstimate to be about sixteen — makes a face at me and props her hands onto her hips. "Then who are those two sluts that you just let inside the venue?" she demands in a superior tone.

Confounded, I sigh. Here we go again. "The ladies that I just allowed inside the venue are cousins of one of the guys in Chelsea Grin." I pause to allow this fact to sink in, but she does not appear to regret her harsh words. "And I doubt that they would appreciate being referred to as sluts," I add softly. "In this day and age, we gals should stick together instead of beating each other down, don't you think?"

The taller girl's eyes widen and she nods slowly, as though this idea has never once crossed her mind before just now. Perhaps I've enlightened someone? "You have a point!"

"Thanks," I smile and then readjust my sunglasses. "Alright, ladies, I'm sorry but I have to go get to work and do some of the stuff they pay me for."

"Wait," the taller girl's right hand shoots out in an instant and she grabs my wrist. Not harshly or in a threatening way, but I'm still not a huge fan of physical contact with strangers. I probably should get over that, maybe one day I will, but for now, I cringe inwardly a bit. She smiles weakly. "You're dating Chris, right? Like, you are fucking Chris Motionless?"

And there it is, ladies and gentle fish, the elephant in the room. Yes, I am, in fact, dating and fucking like rabbits with Chris Motionless. However, I'm not about to tell two strange teenagers this fact when it is, quite frankly, none of their business. So, instead, I blow them off and head back inside the venue. Now I know that they will race onto Twitter or IG, anywhere that will have them, and tell the world what a cuntrag I am because I blew them off. Then, their little friends and followers will read it, see only their side of the story, and I will be a bitch in the eyes of more of Chris' fans. Great way to start my day!