Rocked Up

We say goodbye to the driver and I double-check my last text from my father. He said Arnie, the band’s famous English tour manager, would be outside the door but so far I just see a scraggly-haired bouncer with a thick neck and a couple of roadie-looking types smoking cigarettes.

I feel like such a little girl, surrounded by these people who seem so much cooler than me. They might even be nobodies but it doesn’t matter. I’m super nervous too, that maybe I’ll say the wrong thing or that Arnie will never show. I don’t know why he’s meeting us and not my father. I exchange an anxious glance with Shelby and can tell she’s thinking the same thing. Worst case scenario, I can call my father and just hope he sees it, wherever he is.

But then the door swings open, fluorescent lights shining out onto the darkness and I see Arnie’s silhouette. I’ve only met the guy once, in passing at our house, but I recognize him more from all the pictures I’ve seen of him with the band. The main website I follow, And Then We Were Fans, has tons of photos of him.

“Lael Ramsey?” Arnie asks in his thick accent.

Shelby points at me because I’m apparently speechless.

“Great, come on in,” he says, holding the door wider and gesturing for us to go inside.

This is the moment of truth. At this moment I stop being Lael and start becoming the me I’ve always wanted to be.

I step inside with Shelby and stare up at Arnie as he starts searching his pockets.

“I’ve got your passes here,” he says, “somewhere bloody somewhere.”

I giggle. So does Shelby. Arnie is totally intimidating, not just because he’s older and wiser – I mean with his long beard and hair and glasses, he totally resembles a wizard – but because he’s infamous. Aside from managing And Then he’s also been overseeing U2, Foo Fighters and NIN on their tours. He’s a legend.

And in the presence of a legend, I become a giggling pile of nerves.

Way to be cool, Lael.

Thankfully he fishes out the laminated passes and thrusts them into our hands. “These give you access almost everywhere, okay loves?” he says, looking us both in the eye. “Everywhere except their dressing rooms. Unless you are invited in. But don’t count on it. They know you’re part of Team Ramsey. All right, I better go check on Switch to make sure he’s not doing a mound of…” he pauses, looking between the two of us, “chocolate.”

He starts walking off.

“Wait!” I cry out, finding my voice. “Where do we go? Can we watch from the side stage? Where’s my dad?”

“Can we meet them?” Shelby asks, her voice extra high-pitched with hope.

“Your father had business to attend to, so you’re both on your own. Yes you can watch from the side stage, though I have to warn you, the sound isn’t the best there. And if you do happen to run into them,” he says, “don’t be afraid to say hello.”

And then he disappears up the stairs.

I look at Shelby and we both squeal in unison.

Backstage is the kind of nirvana I’ve only dreamed about. And I’ve dreamed about it a lot. In my fantasy I’m roaming around backstage, a little older than I am now, and Brad sees me by myself. He goes up to me and asks me who I am and what I’m doing and why I look so sad. I tell him that I’m sad because I understand what loneliness is and that we should be lonely together.

In this fantasy I also smoke for some reason, wear red lipstick and have a short black bob. Basically, I’m Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction crossed with Amelie. A million miles from who I really am. But the point is, Brad sees that I see the real him and then he falls madly in love with me and we get married and I have his babies. The end.

And I know it’s totally just a fantasy and it could never happen but maybe I’m special. Maybe he sees something in me that he doesn’t see in anyone else. That hope keeps the fantasy alive for me, the what if. Nothing in this world is impossible if you wish hard enough.

But the further that Shelby and I explore backstage, the more I realize that the fantasy will probably stay that way. It’s a beehive of activity and we are far from being the only girls there, we just happen to be the youngest.

Everyone seems so much prettier, skinnier, cooler. I look over at Shelby with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and round cheeks and I realize how young we really are. Why would Brad ever be interested in a child like me?

Shelby, though, doesn’t seem to be thinking the same thing. She’s still practically jumping up and down and after a while, I am too. There’s no use playing it cool anymore. How can all the people here pretend that this isn’t the greatest thing that’s ever happened to them?

We stick together like glue, afraid to be without each other. It’s exciting, it’s scary. I’m staring at everyone here with big eyes, even the ones who are pretending to be cool.

Then I see Jerry Cantrell standing off to the side. I mean, the freaking legend, the guitarist from Alice in Chains.

“Oh my god!” I grab onto Shelby’s arm. “It’s him.”

“And he’s going off to the side stage!” she squeals. “Let’s follow him!”

We trail behind Jerry, trying to be casual. Even though we’re allowed back here, on the side stage, I still feel like we’re going to get caught at any moment.

We nervously stand beside Jerry until I work up the nerve to ask if he can have a picture taken with us. He’s tall and looks like he did in all those 90’s videos.

He’s also the silent type, just smiles and nods and poses with us while we take a selfie.

After that we’re buzzing, on the moon, and I’m so tempted to send the pic to everyone I know but I don’t want him to see that I’m nuts.

Plus the lights lower and more people crowd on the stage around us.

The show is starting.

I’m a bit sad that we didn’t have a chance to find the boys before the show but maybe afterward is always a better shot. I would think Brad and the band wouldn’t be socializing beforehand and just be concentrating on the music.

And then it happens. Shelby elbows me and I look beside us to see Switch getting behind the drums, followed by Calvi going over to his guitar and Nick picking up the bass. The shadows of the stage create imposing figures.

Then comes Brad and the moment I see him I feel my heart stop.

He is so beautiful, his eyes focused on his mic stand, slipping his famous Gibson SG guitar over his shoulders as he walks over to the middle of the stage to plug it in.

Shelby makes a sound that’s half a whimper, half a squeal.

I can barely breathe.

And then the lights shine on the stage and the band kicks off with “Young Demons.”

For the next hour and a bit, I’m transported to another place, another world, another galaxy I never knew existed. I know Arnie said that the sound on the side stage isn’t the best but honestly there’s no place I would rather be. Being here makes you feel like you’re one with the band, that you’re one with the world, with every single musical note.

I want this.

I want what Brad has.

I want to come up on stage and play an instrument and have the crowd fawning over me, screaming over me. I want the power that Brad has to bring someone like myself to another world.