(TW: mentions of drugs and drug use.)
It's my turn to console Frances now.
Every few seconds, our cab driver turns slightly to look back at her face. She's been dry heaving the entire ride. I'm convinced he's afraid she'll throw up all over his backseat.
"We're going to be in the same room as them," She moans. Her hands clutch at her head like it hurts. Like she's in agony over the entire situation.
Meanwhile, I can hardly wait.
"Oh, c'mon! Don't say it like that! It's gonna be fun," I tell her. "I don't know why you're so worried."
I mean, I could probably throw up right now if I really tried. But the knots in my stomach are good. All week, they've been bad, each runway show bringing a new wave of anxiety. But today? It's just pure excitement.
Axl. Duff. All the guys, really. Home. Finally, home.
"Chasity," Frances starts, peering up at me through her fingers. "I don't know them like you do."
"Yeah," I agree. "But they're not these scary rockstars you think they are. They're dorks! You've met Duff. He's totally cool. I don't think we're going to get to see them before the show. We're already so late," I lean forward to see the tiny clock on the dashboard. According to what it reads, the show started thirty minutes ago.
How sad. . . Axl's probably shirtless by now. Hot stage lights, the crowd. . . Definitely all sweaty. Goregous. Godly. Hopefully we make it just in time to see one song. Please, God. It's So Easy would be good. . . He always gets so into that one. . .
I almost want to tell the driver to speed up. But I pull the reigns in on my self control as I listen to Frances' concerns.
"God, I can't do this!" Her voice raises as she pulls her hair at the root. "I can't! I'm too nervous. He is totally hot, Chas."
I nearly gag. Oh. My. God. "Frances Hall! He's in love with Mandy! They're going to get married. Fran, you can't like him!" The driver stares at me now. I pretend to ignore him as my eyes feel like they're going to pop out of their sockets. I stare at Fran, wide-eyed. So that's what this is about. A crush.
Usually I'm the one losing their mind over a boy. . .
"Well sorry about it! I can't just not like him, Mandy or no Mandy! He's too attractive! I've listened to his music for too long to just not feel feelings about him, Chas! Meeting him just made it worse! You're right, he was really cool. So nice. And cute!" A red blush takes over her whole face as she looks at her heels.
She's dressed for a party. Like the ones we've been dragged to all week. Fashion parties. Backstage, at clubs all over the city. People stand around listening to instrumentals, eating tiny sandwiches, drinking tiny drinks, and talk about whatever it is they do. We mostly kept to Paul's side and didn't speak unless spoken to. I think we were just too exhausted by that point every night to make any effort at putting ourselves out there. We blended in there alongside other models, looked the part in casual dresses and pretty makeup. But tonight? Fran will look out of place. She'll stand out. I bet it was her plan all along. . . Trying to get Duff's attention! Ha!
I shake my head as I squeeze the leather jacket slung across my lap tighter. I'm wearing what I always do (much to Paul's dismay,), my jeans and a Guns N' Roses t-shirt and high tops, the same dirty ones. My makeup is still done from this morning's Perry Ellis show, and my hair, which nobody knows about. That's bound to get their attention. Well, maybe. If they're sober enough to notice.
