Page 5 of Ravaged For You

“Right, okay. You’ve basically just narrated their Wikipedia page. So, tell me. Who’s your favorite? Everyone always has a favorite.”

Marie takes a moment to think about the question like it’s some deep philosophical one. “Well, of course I would get with Drake if I could. I mean, who wouldn’t? But I also think Axel is super cool, although he is well-known for being such a playboy and such a mischievous free spirit. Caspian’s got those muscles and that deep mysterious look about him. So brooding and quiet. I like how you don’t know what he’s thinking. Bishop has that devil-may-care introverted bad boy attitude, and he’s the musical genius of the band, so he’s super smart. That’s so attractive. Apparently, he’s such a worker, and there’s something sexy about a man with a passion. And Drake is the loud show-off charmer, which is just irresistible to me. So, I guess they’re all cute. In their own way.”

“That’s not a single answer, Marie.”

“Jeez, Maddie. I like them all, alright? A girl can dream, can’t she? Every girl’s had that fantasy of hooking up with a famous rockstar, hasn’t she? Get them noticing you in the crowd. Taking you back to their hotel suite. Having them write songs about you…”

I laugh. “I’ll just hope they’d buy me a drink first.”

“You’re such a spoil-sport. You’re telling me you’ve never had a fantasy like that?”

I shrug. “Sure.” I take another look at the giant posters. “Once or twice. And, hey, they’re not bad-looking dudes. I wouldn’t mind them… getting to know me better. But that kind of stuff only exists in fiction. It never happens to a girl like me. I should just dream on.”

Marie smiles. “Simply close your eyes and listen to one of their songs. It makes you feel like they’re only performing to you. That’s what I do.”

“I’ll give it a go.”

We make our way towards the bar, where there’s another line for drinks. There are just so many people trying to cram into this place that it makes moving faster than a snail impossible.

“I’m just glad to spend a night out for once,” I say to Marie as we wait. “Winston at work has me working overtime.”

“Has he?”

Winston’s our boss. A real horse-whipper. He’s been breathing down my neck for the last few weeks in his trademark fashion. I’m so worried that I might get fired soon, thanks to his attitude towards me. Marie and I work at a big marketing company, pretentiously called Focus. One word, I know. We work with big-name companies and big-name products; our last contact has been with a sunglasses brand. We have had some pretty famous actors feature in ads for the brand. I was lucky enough to spend a day on the film set, watching these people I’d seen in my favorite movies in the flesh promoting sunglasses. It sounds all very Hollywood and glamorous but, trust me, it ain’t. I’m merely an assistant there, slowly rising up through the ranks and praying for my ass not to get fired. I just spend most of my time reading and copying numbers in a spreadsheet.

Winston’s recently been trusting me with projects of my own. Little side things, nothing too important. But it’s hard to tell with him. One minute he’s actively promoting me, and then the next he’s tearing me back down. One day he’s telling me I could really make it far in this industry, then next he’s telling me that my work is a failure. Despite me spending time on set, I barely ever meet the actual celebrities we have in, and even then, why would they care to talk to some geeky marketing assistant who’s too shy to even make eye contact? I’m about as removed from the celebrity world as Ravaged is to a bad-selling album.

“Yeah, Winston’s really got it out for me at the moment,” I continue. “He thinks I’m failing at my job. Well, that’s what he told me in our last meeting.”

“But you’re really good at what you do,” Marie replies.

“Tell that to him. It’s like I’m his target. I’m scared of bumping into him at the office. Every day I go to work worried if I might be leaving at the end of the day with a brown box of my things.”

We finally reach the bar. Marie tries to pay for the drinks, but I don’t let her.

“I’m getting these. You’ve brought me along tonight, Marie, and I want to thank you properly.”

“You’re sweet, Maddie,” my work colleague replies. “When I first met you, I thought you were so shy. But underneath that, you’re a smart, nice person.”

I blush. I’m not used to compliments.

As we move inside the actual auditorium of the concert arena, we chink our glasses together and take a sip.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” I say to Marie. Inside, the pre-show music is blaring out invitingly.

“Stop doing that,” she replies. “I’m glad you decided to come and that I get to tell you all about the best freaking band on the planet.”

I am happy I’m here. I’m happy I decided against my cautious impulse and followed my New Year’s resolution.

“Let’s find our seats quickly,” Marie says. “I think the show’s about to start.”

2

MADDIE

Marie guides me through the crowd, taking us further and further inside the arena’s vast auditorium.

“Where the heck are our seats?” I ask her above the noise of the audience. Marie shoots me back a devilish look.