As he steps towards the door, he pauses to look at me over his shoulder. “It makes the whole thing easier, knowing you’ll be there today.” With a grin that makes my heart skip, he disappears through the doorway.
This man has salvaged my heart.
As I listen to his footsteps down the staircase, that’s when it hits me.
I’m utterly in love with James.
Chapter 44
James
We rock up to the stadium, and the sheer size of the place nearly knocks the wind out of me. It’s massive. Nerves and adrenaline surge through me as I take it in. It looks even bigger at this time of day. The car park is mostly empty, save for a few other bands unloading their gear.
Oliver claps a hand on my shoulder. “Mate,” he says, nodding towards the stadium. “This is it. How are you feeling?”
I huff out a laugh. “Ask me once it’s done,” I tell him.
Tom grunts as he jumps out of the van. “I’m proper shitting myself.”
“Well, hold off, will ya? I haven’t got any bog roll on me,” Will says, sliding the other van door open.
Oliver and I laugh as he barrels out with his guitar case in hand. “Well, lads. Let’s go give ’em a show,” Oliver says.
With a silent nod, we grab our things and make our way to the rear entrance where we’re met by two burly security guards with crossed arms and stoic expressions, standing next to a striking brunette in a tailored skirt suit and heels, clipboard in hand. They carefully check our IDs, then cross our names off a list.
“Just follow the signs and my colleague, Rachel, will meet you at the other end. Good luck, gentlemen,” the woman instructs. A nod lets us know we’re good to go, and we step inside.
The security is intense—way more than any club or small venue we’re used to. We’re directed through metal detectors and our bags are inspected.
Once we’re cleared, we follow a sign that leads us to the backstage hallways, opening into a labyrinth. Painted concrete walls with posters of past tours and bands who’ve made it big follow us as we make our way through.
At the end of the passage, a raven-haired woman waits. She’s petite but her face is fierce. She’s wearing a headset, barking orders into it. “No! I don’t care if they say they signed up. If their name isn’t on the list, they aren’t fucking coming in!” She pauses, listening to whoever’s speaking on the other end. “I saidno, Jeremy,” she hisses. With a sharp sigh, she raises a hand to click the side of her headset, switching it off before turning to address us.
We exchange uneasy glances. Jesus. She might be small, but she’s fucking terrifying.
“Hi, boys! Welcome, welcome! You made it in okay?” she asks, her tone so friendly that I whip my head back, caught off guard.
“I’m Rachel, the event coordinator,” she continues, flashing us a quick smile. “Follow me, and I’ll show you to your dressing room. I’ll give you some time to settle in before taking you to the main stage. Your guests have their electronic tickets?”
“Yes,” I reply. “They all confirmed they were emailed and texted to them.”
“Fab. As long as none of your guests’ names have changed, they shouldn’t have any issues entering via the VIP entrance.” She brandishes four lanyards as she walks and talks, passing oneback to each of us. “These will give you full backstage access. Just try not to go wandering. We’ve had musicians get lost back here right before a show—and they missed out on performing.”
“Right,” Oliver says, nodding, and we all look at Will.
“What?” he says, looking offended. He holds up his free hand in surrender. “Fine, I won’t go wandering,jeez.”
“Right this way, boys,” Rachel says, her heels clicking against the polished concrete floors. “You’re in one of our larger dressing rooms, so you should have plenty of space to spread out. We’ve set up a drum kit, amps, and a mic, so rehearse as much as you need, and don’t hesitate to contact one of the staff if you need anything else.”
We follow her until she stops in front of a set of worn black double doors, swinging them open. “Feel free to settle in. I’ll come fetch you when it’s time for the stage walk-through. There’s a bathroom through there”—she points to an adjoining door—“and if you need anything, just press the button on the wall.” She gestures towards a small intercom panel by the entrance.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Right. I’ll leave you to it.” She shoots me a wink before disappearing down the hallway.
As soon as she’s gone, Oliver lets out a low whistle, dropping into an armchair. “Can you believe this? We’re actually here.”
I flop onto the leather sofa. “Here we are,” I say, a wide grin spreading across my face. The nerves are there, yeah, but they’re nothing compared to the thrill of what’s coming next.
