Stage Fright // l.h

0.1

Cassidy

I took my place in front of the microphone wand scanned over the crowd one last time before heading off stage and ending the night.

I could barely catch my breath as we had just played our third encore, and my legs were destined to be sore the next day due to all the kicking and running I've done.

"You guys have been absolutely amazing," I was breathing heavily, "absolutely fucking amazing. It was lovely playing for you tonight."

The crowd screamed as I swung the guitar strap from off of my shoulder, "unfortunately this is it for the night. It's been a good one."

"Stay safe driving home," my bassist, Matt, spoke into the mic to the right of me, "don't make any stupid decisions."

I playfully punched him on the shoulder before we all lined up, bowing to the crowd. It was the biggest show we had ever played, and it was only going to get bigger and better from here.

"We are Violent Silver, Goodnight!" Neil, our drummer called out. He was seemingly energetic after playing such a long set, but I wasn't complaining.

After running off stage, I felt as if I needed to drink hundred upon hundreds of bottles of water. After drinking just one, I realize that almost nothing could quench the thirst I had acquired up on stage. Years ago, I had never even thought about the amount of effort it took to perform on stage, and my vocal chords were killing me.

Although I enjoy what I do and it's difficult at times, I wouldn't give it up for the world.

Our rhythm guitarist, Anthony, stood above a bowl of ice chips as he continuously shoved fistfuls into his mouth. He seemed as if he wouldn't stop, and I didn't blame him. The lights were excruciating.

-

Jason, our tour manager, came up behind us patting us all on the back as we approached the dressing room.

"You guys did it," he spoke quickly, "you guys broke the record for the most international views of a live concert on top of selling out the arena. You fucking did it."

Neil smirked at me from the leather couch he found himself sprawled across, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. "Tell us something we don't know, man."

"You're so fucking cocky, dude." Jason spat back, throwing down a stack of papers, probably lists of things we had to bring with us to our next gig.

I rolled my eyes as I stripped off the jean-jacket I found myself wearing and threw it across the room, not caring where it landed. All I wanted right now was to cool off, and that's exactly what I planned on doing.

"Cass, quit stripping." Matt called from the rocker chair in the far corner, trying to hold back laughter.

"Oh, fuck off," I chuckled, "I'm surprised you're even still wearing that fucking jacket," I motioned to the leather jacket he had half-zipped onto his torso, "it was hot as balls out there."

"Maybe you're just weak." Neil shot back, throwing his drumsticks at me. I caught one in my hand and immediately tossed it back.

"Maybe you need to shut the fuck up." My voice was full of irritation.

"Hey now, guys," Jason pulled his phone away from his ear, and we obviously didn't realize he was on it at all, "you were just invited to a party in LA on May twenty-seventh. You're going."

Trying to hold back a groan, I buried my face into a pillow. "The twenty-seventh? That's four days before my birthday. I was supposed to go back home to Ohio that week."

"Well, your plans have changed. It's good for your publicity." Jason's voice seemed demanding, and I wasn't about to argue back with him on this one.

"Whatever." I whipped the pillow to the floor and threw myself into the couch with Neil. "Just let us know when our flight leaves."

"That's the spirit," Jason spoke quickly as he made his way towards the door, "I'll call for you guys when the bus is ready." And in an instant, he was gone.

"That was surprising," Neil whispered, allowing me to lay on top of him for once.

"What was?" My voice seemed hoarse and tired, not feminine at all. Sometime I wondered how I didn't completely kill my throat with how I sang, but right now I didn't care.

"The fact that you didn't argue back."

"You always argue back," Matt chimed in, "you never let someone else win like that."

"Well, I'm just not havin' it tonight." I buried my face into Neil's chest, praying he wouldn't make me move. But he didn't.

"We can tell," Neil spoke softly, playing with my hair, "you're probably just tired."

"Tired isn't even the word for it, man." I groaned again, and to quickly realized Neil was trying to hold back his laughter. "What?"

"You're just ridiculous, Cass."

"Beyond ridiculous." Matt spoke up, throwing a pillow at Neil and I. "Now get off of each other before I throw up."

"I'll throw up on you if you don't leave me be," I spat back, burying myself further into Neil's chest, "just let me relax, okay?"

"You can relax somewhere other than on top of Neil." Matt grabbed my arm and pulled, my body falling limp to the ground.

"Matthew!" I groaned, my body hitting the shag carpeting of the floor in the dressing room. "You're such a dick."

"You wanted me in the band." Looking up, a caught a quick smirk appear on his face.

"Shut up."

"I'll shut up after the party we're supposed to go to."