Tonight

Chapter 1

"Killed it," Caspar grinned, flopping down onto a chair under the swanky white tent, ripping the headphones off his head and grabbing a beer out of the cooler. "We fucking killed that first set, Joe. Girls were taking off their bras and flinging them on the stage. One girl even gave me her panties."

Joe wrinkled his nose, sitting down lightly and rubbing his temples, "And you took them?!"

"Well, yeah. She placed them in my hand. But don't worry I tossed em," Caspar replied, smirking, unzipping his raincoat and taking another swig of his beer.

"Glad they went to you, and not me," Joe sighed, checking his cell phone, and immediately furrowing his eyebrows at the stream of texts he had missed while onstage.

"Delilah giving you hell?" Caspar's voice cut into his thoughts. "You need to drop her, mate. Drop her like a bad habit."

Joe closed his eyes, leaning back against the chair and closing his eyes, tossing his phone toward Caspar who read the texts out loud. "'My shoot was rescheduled, I'm coming to Glasto tonight! Babe, where are you? Joe why aren't you answering my texts? JOE IF YOU DON'T ANSWER MY TEXTS I'M NOT COMING'...Jesus Christ, she sent those in less than 20 minutes. Is she okay in the head?"

Joe groaned and rubbed his palms over his tired face, "I don't know, Casp. She's doing my head in."

"Drop her," Caspar shrugged. "You're not serious about her anyway."

"I can't just drop her," Joe rolled his eyes. "She rearranged her shoot to be here tonight with me. She's...trying."

"She's trying to start a modeling career," Caspar snorted. "And she's doing it by latching onto an indie artist who is about to become the next big thing. It's called strategy, Joe. Delilah gets increasingly dumber every time I see her, but she's not a total idiot. You're the dumb one who is being too nice to say bye bye."

Joe sighed again, standing up and walking toward the bar, "I need something stronger than a beer if I'm going to get through tonight."

---

"Dianne! Get your fucking boots on and let's go explore," Amy bellowed out from behind the curtain in the artist tent. "Our gig isn't until tonight which gives us about...four hours to rage."

"We're not going to rage, Ames," Dianne sighed. "This gig means everything. This is our chance. We're at fucking Glastonbury. I'm not ruining it."

"Aw, cheer up sweet cheeks," Oti's loud South African accent echoed from the other side of the tent. "Amy was just kidding."

"Um, I wasn't," Amy rolled her eyes, finally coming back from around the curtain, zipping up her black raincoat and tightening the laces on her combat boots. "Dianne, you're right, we're at fucking Glastonbury. GLASTONBURY. I think that deserves a bit of a rage."

Dianne studied her friend and band mate through narrowed eyes. She and Amy had known each other basically all of their lives. Same with Oti. They were the three amigas, meeting through a shared passion of the arts when they'd all traveled to the UK to attend a performing arts secondary school. She never expected that their little band they'd started in university would have brought them here - to one of the biggest music festivals in the UK. But they had made it - and this was their chance.

"Come on, Di," Amy pleaded, kneeling down in front of the redhead. "How about a compromise? We rage for one hour. Sober up for three."

"I don't think we should drink at all before the performance," Dianne mumbled back.

"Okay, let's rephrase," Amy rolled her eyes, shooting a look over her shoulder at Oti who was watching with an amused smile. "We have a drink...or two. We've never been here before...let's enjoy it."