in which Brian, try as he might, can't stop himself from emotionally tying himself to women he meets on tour--he knows it's wrong but can't seem to stop himself
in which Katie, an unintentional groupie, becomes hopelessly entangled in the life of a...
She had been to a few rock concerts in her youth, but they in no way prepared Katie for the blinding flashes of white light and clouds of dry ice that were currently assaulting her senses. Who is this group again? she thought, blinking the surprise from her eyes. Next to her, Stacy vibrated in place. "I've heard the opening act is actually quite good. A bit odd, but good," she whispered excitedly into Isabella's ear. "Queen, I think their name is? What a strange name for a rock group."
A heavy, electric chord cut through the smoke, sending sonic waves bouncing off the walls of the relatively-small venue. The electricity was palpable. Katie looked on expectantly, tugging at the hemline of her dress in anticipation. Suddenly, four figures appeared on stage. Shrouded in the white smoke, a voice began to sing as the strumming continued and the drums and bass joined in. Eyes straining, she was able to put a face to the owner of the beautifully-clear voice that effortlessly filled the room with its sheer volume. The face that looked back at her was a bit of a surprise—a sharp, pointed nose, a broad chin shaped by one of the most defined jaw lines she had ever seen, a sizable overbite, shoulder-length jet black hair, and ravenous eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. In addition, he was clad in sleek, black clothes from head to toe: leather tights and a long-sleeved v-neck adorned with glittering gems. Katie was certain she'd never seen a man so peculiar, so distinct, and so oddly beautiful.
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The band got into their groove as the smoke settled around them, revealing each member to the audience. The singer brandished a severed microphone stand in his hands as he belted melodious poetry into it. "It looks as if they're all wearing make-up, doesn't it?" Katie observed curiously, nudging her friend.
"Oh...! You're right. I'm not sure if I like it," Stacy mused, moving her hips to the beat. "Just wait till Mott the Hoople plays their set - god they're handsome."
Katie quietly disagreed—the make-up seemed to suit them quite well. In fact, combined with their dark-colored, fairytale-esque wardrobe, she thought it made them look hot as fuck. As they finished the first number and moved onto their next song, she began to zone in on each member individually. The drummer seemed a bit cocky from the few glimpses she got of his shaggy blonde hair and baby face between the cymbals. The bass player seemed quite the opposite of the lead singer's showy, bold stage presence—he stationed himself to the left of the stage and stayed relatively unmoving throughout the show, tapping his foot along to the beat of his instrument.
But it was the guitar player that especially caught her attention. He was definitely a lot slimmer than most men she fancied, but the way he seemed so completely immersed in his playing was intriguing. He seemed to tower over the rest of the band, but Katie couldn't tell whether that was because he was wearing heels—heels!—or if he was just naturally gigantic. To top it all off, the unruly bush of black curls that framed his sharp facial features could not have been any more perfectly arranged. She was so engrossed in watching his every movement that when he looked up from his fretboard and into the crowd, she quickly tore her gaze away, casting her eyes to the floor. God, what is wrong with me? He's performing in front of a crowd, he's used to people staring, dumbass she thought, cheeks flushing pink. She wondered if Stacy would be able to introduce her––if she knew anything about her friend, it was that she could not resist matchmaking. It also helped that Stacy was no stranger to the main act. In fact, she had a bit of an ongoing relationship with the lead singer––mainly sexual, from what Katie gathered. This meant getting access to Queen could be easy... but the last thing Katie needed right now was an awkward introduction by her overly-enthusiastic friend to an attractive guitarist miles out of her league. Besides, she had work tomorrow morning. Still, he was handsome, in an unconventional sort of way. And the way his lithe, long fingers expertly slid their way up and down the strings...
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"Oh good, I think they're finished." Stacy's impatient voice interrupted Katie's spiraling train of thought. "Do I look okay? Has my hair gone flat?? Oh god, my mascara must've smeared-"
"Relaaaaax, you look amazing as usual," Katie said reassuringly, squeezing her hand. "What's so important about this guy anyway? He's just a man with an over-inflated ego who happens to be in a band. You could definitely do better than him, Stace." Her friend rolled her eyes at her as Queen ended their set with a cacophony of cymbals and a triad of delayed power chords that ripped forcefully through the cheap speakers. The crowd broke into a wild roar.
"Ever the cynic," Stacy remarked as they began clapping. "You know, it's alright to go crazy over a man! You don't need to be so serious about it all the time—they don't need to be adonis for you to have a bit of fun. Loosen up a bit, hm?" she teased, playfully poking Katie in the ribs.
"Mmm. Speaking of adonis, what did you think of the guitarist?" Katie accidentally let her previous thoughts invade their conversation over the thunderous applause. Whoops.
Stacy wrinkled her nose, head tilting in thought as her eyes landed on the source of her friend's question. "Hmm. That lanky twig of a man? I guess he's alright, in an awkward sort of way.."
Katie scoffed, unconsciously combing her fingers through her auburn hair as her eyes followed the guitarist offstage. "Doesn't his hair look like he's just finished having sex? I wonder if it's always like that. I'd love to run my hands through it," she whispered conspiringly, drawing a surprised giggle out of her friend.
"We never did have much similarity in our taste in men," Stacy laughed. "Look!" She pointed towards the stage as the next band, presumably Mott the Hoople, sauntered on stage—a stark difference from Queen's theatrical entrance. "There's Ian! God he's so fucking hot, I can't wait to meet up with him after the show. It's been so longgggg, I hope he remembers me."
Katie wasn't sure they were looking at the same man. The object of Stacy's desires was donned in greasy, dirty-blonde curls and wore large sunglasses and a smirk that seemed to radiate cockiness. He lazily stepped up to the mic, hands resting on his guitar which was slung dangerously low on his hips. "Hello, beautiful people," he drawled, looking out into the crowd. "Great to be in Waterbury tonight. I hope you're ready to rock!" He emphasized this sentiment with a roll of his hips.
As he struck the first few notes on his guitar, he found Stacy's eyes in the crowd and winked. She audibly swooned next to Katie and joined her voice with the shouts and screams of every other female in the room. Katie sighed in resignation—it was gonna be a long set.
