Standing By

Can Ya Hear Me Now?

(Adam)

"How freaking long does it take to park a limo?" I grumbled, trying to peer over Kevin's head that he was bobbling along to nonexistent music.

Diaz checked his watch, then waved frantically to Rob, who was doing his best to ignore him.

"We have to wait, Rob!" Diaz yelled at our friends who were chomping at the bit to get upstairs. He turned to the three of us. "Stay here." He called out to the others that they needed two guards for the ten of us, heading over towards them. Apparently, they didn't hear— or more likely, they didn't care. The elevator doors opened and all six of them piled on as a huge crowd got off.

"Ah crap," Kevin groaned next to me. "Can't they follow instructions?"

Avi rolled his head backwards and let out a frustrated sounding grunt. Diaz started pounding at the 'up' button. He turned to look at us, I guess to make sure we were staying put.

"Oof," I grunted as someone bumped into me.

"Oh, sorry, man," he actually had the decency to apologize, calling back over his shoulder. "Hey, look, Jen, isn't that that one guy?" He pointed to Avi.

"Me? What'd I do?" he asked as Jen turned around and shrieked.

"It is! It is! Shit, it is!"

"What?" Avi was still bewildered. The other eight or so people started crowding around us as well.

A wolf whistle came from the hallway . "Avi! Kevin! Adam! I said, come here!"

"Sorry, didn't hear you!" I shouted, accidentally bumping into the same guy who'd bumped into me. "Sorry about that."

The guy's hand fell on my arm and grasped me firmly. "Who's this, Jen? If that's Avi and that's Kevin, who's this guy?"

"Excuse me, please, let go of me," I requested, glad for once that I was not a front man.

"Ummm," Jen mused, grabbing at my other arm. "Quit moving. I know I recognize you from somewhere."

"Eeeek!" Kevin squealed, having been pressed to the wall by three young women. "Stop it, please! Let me have a little space here!"

Avi was trying to acquiesce a couple of girls by signing a few things, but then got bombarded by a church van that was letting out a bunch of people carrying 'get well, Brother David!' signs and balloons. "Oh crap," he muttered, dropping his pen and trying to hide behind a stone pillar.

"They called him Adam, I think," the guy said, still crunching my arms. I tried to wriggle away, but he had a death grip on my bicep. It's really hard to get away or fight back when one's hand and wrist are being held still by a surprisingly strong woman and your other hand is being held and rendered useless against a firm grasp on its own bicep.

"Ow, let up," I complained, feeling trapped.

"Get away!" I heard Diaz yell at Kevin's crowd. He pulled two girls off of him and sent them away. One of them came running at me.

"Jen, that's Adam Rupp!" she excitedly told her friend. "Vocal percussionist of Home Free! One of their main founders! Country music! Chris around?"

"Who?" the guy grunted. "I've never heard of no Adam Rupp. Or a Chris."

"Then let me go," was my sassy answer. "Clearly, I'm a nobody. And no, he's not."

Jen shrieked. "Oh! You're right! They all got a show here tomorrow night! I've seen the ads!"

"So he is a somebody?" The guy gazed down at me like I was a bug.