It makes me think of Pinocchio inside the belly of the beast, staring at the skeletal structure of this thing that is literally and figuratively so much bigger than you. Small fish, meet big pond.
Lilli and I walked the stage before they opened the gates to the audience. Sound check went by quickly, and I watched as stagehands and crew members crawled around in their routine. Countless wires were grouped together and taped or tied along the floor and scaffolding, as intricate as tree roots or a nervous system. As Lilli tested a mic and back up mic, I was in complete awe over the sheer quantity of everything: cables, workers, lights, buttons, seats, people… and yet, it was efficient. I find myself overwhelmed, unable to focus on capturing the details. I do my best to make sure I don’t look like my eyes are glazing over.
Now, we’re backstage, and Lilli is about to perform.
“Go out there with me,” she says, her eyes wide.
“What?” I doubt I heard her right.
“I already cleared it with Jennifer Lux and Ripple Records. I talked to Tops, and she said it was fine. Come on, Connie.” Lilli takes both my hands in hers as she pleads with me, “We should be doing this together.”
I don’t know what brought this on. She knows I haven’t performed in years. Even though I miss it, feel that old familiar pull to be in the spotlight, I resist it. If the reception from the audience was bad, it could trigger an episode.
“Lilli, I can’t…”
“Sure you can! They’re your songs!”
“I haven’t rehearsed with you. You have dances and stuff…”
“I have a costume for you in the dressing room. Come out for the acoustic song.” Lilli is waving down a crew member, who hands me a microphone. “You said you might want to perform again, so do it tonight!”
I hand her the microphone and take a step back.
“Lilli, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not ready tonight. Maybe if I had time to prepare, then maybe…”
A glint of promise in her eye, Lilli hands the microphone back to the crew. “So before the end of my time opening this tour, you’re going to sing with me.”
There’s a thirty second clock up on the big screen, and I can see it on the monitor beside us. I decide that we need to focus on the current moment.
“Dude, this is it! You’re doing this!” I hype her up because that’s what best friends do. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Lilypad. Go kick some ass!” We jump up and down, getting her energy up and nerves out.
The screen says ten seconds, so I hug her tight and then run off stage in the back area where I can still see her perform.
She is immediately on for the crowd—stage presence was never an issue for her. The crowd is mostly full already, but some of the seats are still empty. That makes sense, though; people are here for Jennifer Lux. I see people heading over to the merch trucks and restrooms, but mostly people I can see are singing along with Lilli. She opened up with not the most streamed song, but the second most. I’m watching from behind the stage, but I’m thirsty, and I can’t see her face anyway, so I look around for some water.
I see a flat of water bottles on the floor by a crew member with a headset on.
“Excuse me, can I have one of those?” I ask.
The crew member nods and points over toward a small tent with two tables and some chairs. “No water by the equipment, please.”
There are a few people here, but I haven’t met any of them, mostly band members for Jennifer’s set. I recognize one of the male dancers, who has gone viral online. He’s hot, and the choreography gives so much, if you know what I mean. I think about going up and saying hi, but he gets a call and leaves the tent.
Maybe later.
I start drinking my water as fast as I can so I can go back to watch Lilli’s set when I see Michael, Jennifer Lux’s drummer. He has this aura about him that captivates me. It’s enchanting. He’s lounging back on a bench with a velvet button up shirt, one arm along the top of the back of the bench, the other holding what looked like a cocktail. His hips are low on the seat, causing him to slouch, his chest open wide. It made me think of that one yoga class Lilli and I took for a few weeks, where the instructor would tell us to “face our hearts to the sun.”
Michael has golden hoop earrings on, and on one side, a second earring of what looks like a feather. There is also acollection of different beaded bracelets on his wrist holding his drink. We make eye contact, and his smile spreads like butter on warm toast. He has a faint goatee, not really the same shadow as Eric.
The comparison comes without warning. I break eye contact and shake my head as I finish my water and head back to the back of the stage. Lilli has started the third song, and the crowd is with her, singing along. I see some of the band members heading up to their spots for the show.
“She sounds great,” a voice purrs in my ear. Handsome and radiating trouble, Michael is behind me, sans cocktail. “I’m Michael,” he says, as if I don’t already know. As if I didn’t make sure I knew every band member’s name before we got on the bus.
That means I already know this guy. I know he oozes sexual prowess. I could have a good night with him if I wanted to. Maybe it’ll help get Eric out of my head.
“I’m Connie,” I say, and I put my hands in the back pockets of my jeans to expose my breasts subtly. I see how he notices.
“Are you going to stick around and watch me play?” he asks.
