Spinning

Chapter 10: Andy Bernard School of Anger Management

Author's note: a super long chapter. I must've been angry when I wrote it?? (many months ago). But you're gonna love it!!

                                                                                              ****

The pulsing of the drum never left my ears. Rather, it was replaced by the feverish beating of my heart. I'm waiting to have reality crashing in, the real reality, where I figure out this was a bad trip after too many 'shrooms, and Eddie doesn't remember me and he is just a security guard, and I'm just an emotionally immature brat. But this reality turns out to be the reality, my reality, and I can't figure out my role in it.

Eddie is in a band. The singer in a band, a goddamn good singer, but, more important, a goddamn sex god of a singer who drops the panties of 400 sexually charged ladies with one coo of his lips. He hid this from me for nearly six weeks, pretending he worked at The StarLight, and didn't perform. Then, he lures me out here, ready to expose the truth without any prerequisite warnings. And then, ironically, spills his darkest thoughts to the crowd, overexposing himself, while he won't even allow contact between our arm hairs. The nail in the coffin must be that he can sing and mourn and long for this unknown goddamn woman of that blasted song in front of me, so openly. Why am I even here? Why was I invited? This is going nowhere, and Eddie could have any of the 400 women here tonight, or the 400 at his last show, or the 400 before that... not to mention some of the men eyeing him...

I'm standing in the lobby, torn between my options. A stronger Jordan would've stormed out. A truly interested gentleman would chase me down and plead for my forgiveness. But I am weak, and I've seen the delicious muscles previously hidden underneath Eddie's shirt. I become an island of contemplation as the worker bees throng on either side of me towards the exit, and I'm stranded with my thoughts, staring at the backstage door.

Suddenly, Chris cuts in between my line of sight. Chris? What the hell is he doing?

"There you are! We didn't know if you came. We're all in the back here."

We? Who is we?

"So you're Eddie's errand boy." My irritation grows with Chris's nonchalance.

"I can't say no to anyone with biceps like his." Sigh. Same.

When I don't return a laugh, his face hardens slightly. He leads me through a series of doors and into the backstage area. It's empty minus a few stagehands, but I hear laughter from one of the side rooms. Chris heads towards it, but I hang back, searing. I haven't made my decision yet.

Chris comes back out with two strangers. One has shaggy light brown hair under a hat that could've been a retired Muppet, and a smile that doesn't seem to leave his face. I wish he'd stop smiling. Who could possibly be that happy? He's introduced as "Ames", short for his last name or something. His actual name is Jeff. I'm going to call him Jeff. Jeff is the bassist.

The other is taller, leaner, and more angular than Eddie, but alluring all the same. He has long, thick blond hair that's tied back in a ponytail with a head wrap and flat brim hat to complete the look. I learn his name is Stone, which I assumed was an ironic nickname because his face seems flat and expressionless. I learned the hard way that this is incorrect. Stone is his birth name, and Stone is the guitarist.

I was too engrossed with Eddie on stage that my eyesight never strayed to the other members. Jeff tried to exchange pleasantries with me, which I quickly shut down. Chris and Stone look at each other quickly, but not quick enough, as I catch Stone's gaze. He holds it for a moment, before looking away, unamused. I eye Stone interestingly. If Eddie doesn't work out, I will surely give him a weather report.