[Patreon Exclusive] HIS BIGGEST FAN: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Chapter 3

I didn’t get much sleep the night before the big show. I had to drive six hours to get to the show, and I didn’t even have tickets. I considered buying tickets. It almost seemed like a giant waste of time to travel six hours just to stand behind a stadium, but I figured the real waste would be to buy a ticket and then to cut out halfway through the show to secure my spot at the front of the crowd out back. The roadies always picked the girls who stood at the front. They rarely picked anyone from within the crowd, unless they were absolutely stunning.

There were only about ten people standing out back when I arrived. I could hear the music booming from inside the stadium. I was giddy with excitement. I had full faith in my plan.

With every passing song, more and more people began to crowd around me. I didn’t think it would matter how many people showed up seeing as I already had my spot at the front of the crowd, but I was wrong. It turns out, people treat your differently as a woman. More specifically, women treat you much differently when you’re a woman. They’re ruthless, heartless. I had to hold my ground as I was tugged and bumped and girls tried to scooch in front of me, squeezing themselves between the temporary barricade and my body.

The men behind me didn’t help much either. I can’t tell you how many times my ass was grabbed. It was impossible to know who the culprit was, but I imagine it was more than one of the guys behind me. One guy even slipped his hands between my thighs in an attempt to feel up my pussy. I quickly swatted his hand away, milliseconds before his fingers found a little more than they were expecting. “Oh, c’mon baby,” the male voice said behind me. “Saving it all for Rick Aaronson?” I didn’t look back. I couldn’t look back. I needed to stay totally focussed on holding my ground, so I wouldn’t lose my spot, so twenty hours of my life wouldn’t be wasted.

The back door opened and the crowd erupted. Girls bounced up and down and screamed, “Bring me back! Bring me back!” The men behind me shouted for their chance—but they had no hope, as I knew all too well. The pushing and shoving intensified. “Get out of my way!” a woman shouted in my ear as she forced herself in front of me. I tried to hold her back but I couldn’t. She began to jump up and down in front of me, her butt (exposed thanks to her too-short jean shorts) rubbing all over me. Another girl slipped in front of me, and I lost sight of the roadie. My heart sank into my gut.

All of my hope was lost. I could have forced my way past the girls but I didn’t—I didn’t want to stoop to their low level, even if it did mean wasting over twenty hours of my life, all of that gas spent driving, all of that money spent on a hotel room for the night.

“Move aside,” I heard the roadie say, and then, after a moment, the girls in front of parted. Then, I saw him pointing at me. “You,” he said. My heart jumped back up into my chest. The girls around me all turned and looked at me. “Fucking slut,” one girl said, looking down at me like I was the scum of the earth. And sure, I hammed it up. I was only wearing a bra as a top, after all. But I could have cared less. I was in. I was going to meet Static Overdrive.

The roadie brought me, along with five other girls, down a series of corridors. The end of the band’s booming encore echoed through the halls. Finally, we found ourselves in a big green room. “Help yourself to food and drinks,” the roadie said, motioning towards two long tables covered in high-quality catering. A few of the girls went to grab something to eat (some of us had, after all, been waiting outside for nearly five hours). I couldn’t even think about eating. My heart was pounding so fast and so hard, the thought of food made me sick. I was going to meet Static Overdrive. I was going to get my tour-book personally signed by the band. And I was going to meet Rick Aaronson. Excitement, anxiety, and a tinge of dread all pulsed through my veins.

From that green room, I could hear the concert coming to an end. I could hear the many fans in attendance erupting into cheer. As that cheer began to die down, I knew the band was on their way to the green room, on their way to me. I had to take a seat on one of the couches in the room, afraid I would collapse the moment I laid eyes on Rick Aaronson. The girls around me didn’t seem to be too phased, or maybe they were just very good at hiding it. They continued to pick snacks off of the food tables, mingling amongst one another, basking in their egos. I don’t think they cared about meeting the band. I think they already had their moment of triumph, being picked from the crowd. They were satisfied.

The door opened and they came in, the drummer first, then the bass player, then the rhythm guitar player, and then Rick. He scanned the room, his eyes fell upon me, and then he smiled. I froze completely, my nervous system shut down. Of course I’d always known he was real, but now he was really real, and he was looking right at me. “Hello ladies,” he said. He nodded his head at me and then turned to the other girls.

“Oh my God,” one of the girl said, waving her hands in front of her face in a strange attempt to stop herself from crying. “You guys are so amazing.”

“Thanks, and thanks for all of your support. It really means a lot to us,” Rick said. My eyes were glued to him. I couldn’t look away. He seemed to have a glow to him, one that you didn’t see in pictures or video or even from across a stadium packed full of fans. My mind became mush. I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. I was in a complete state of hypnosis. I was in the same room as arguably the most talented musician of the century.

And again, he was looking right at me. His lips were moving, but all I could hear was the high-pitched ringing of my brain. “You okay?” I finally heard him say.

“Huh? Me? Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, snapping out of my trance. I don’t think my heart had ever beat so fast in my life.

“I said, what’s your name?” he said.

“Georgia May.” I sprung to my feet and threw my hand forward. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’m your biggest fan,” I said.

“Our biggest fan, hey?” he said. He took my hand. His skin was so soft, so warm, so perfect in every conceivable way. “The pleasure’s all mine, Georgia,” he said. I could feel the scorn of the other girls in the room. Sure, Static Overdrive had an incredible drummer, a very talented bass player, and a great rhythm guitarist, but Rick Aaronson was in a league of his own. He was the real talent of the band and everyone knew it. It also didn’t hurt that he was the most handsome of the band members.

I felt like such a fool when I held up my tour-book. “Could you sign my tour-book?” I asked. All of the other girls looked at me like I was insane, like I was just some crazy fan girl with a crazy Rick Aaronson obsession. And maybe I was.

He went around the room, spending time with everyone, asking stock questions, getting to know his fans. And he was incredibly good at feigning interest. His smile was so genuine and he was great at listening. But I could tell it was just procedure to him. No one is interested in “My name’s Marissa, I like music and concerts and I’m taking women’s studies in school and I work as a bartender and I love to party…” But when he finally got to me, it was different. We actually talked. He asked me questions about my career and my personal life and what other bands I liked. He ended up taking a seat next to me, and then again, I could feel the scorn of the other girls in the room.

Maybe he was just more interested because he could tell I was a real fan and not just another girl who wanted to say they met a celebrity. Or maybe he was interested in me romantically—or maybe I was just delusional. But the way he was looking at me was so similar to the way Roger looked at me at that café. There was something else there that I just couldn’t put my finger on.

“Alright ladies, it’s time to go,” the band’s manager said, poking his head into the room.

The other girls all sprung to their feet and started towards the door. It wasn’t so easy for me. I didn’t want the moment to end. It was like waking up from a perfect dream—that moment you realize you’re dreaming and about to wake up but you’re still in that dream world. You can refuse to let it end all you want but returning to real life is inevitable. “C’mon miss,” the band manager said, looking right at me.

Reluctantly, I stood up. I looked back at Rick, who was smiling. “It was nice to meet you,” I said, then I started for the door, my heart crushed slightly, knowing it was probably the one and only time I would ever get to meet my idol. “Hey Georgia,” Rick said. My heart sprung alive once again. “Do you have plans for the rest of the night?” he asked.

“No,” I said so quickly, I nearly interrupted him.

“Do you mind waiting out in the parking lot while we pack up? I’ll have someone find you,” he said.

I couldn’t fight the smile from my face. “Okay,” I said and he smiled.

“Great.”

The band manager put his hand on my back and led me out of the green room. My head was spinning. To call it the highlight of my life was an understatement. I was buzzing with warm energy. I’d never been on such an incredible high in my whole life. I just met Static Overdrive. I just spent half an hour sitting and chatting with Rick Aaronson and now I was going to meet up with him in private. It was every girl in America’s dream.

And then I realized what was happening. Rick didn’t just want to hang out with some random fan, he wanted to hang out with a woman. Whether or not that meant sex or real romance, I couldn’t offer him either. I wasn’t a woman. I didn’t have what he wanted. I was just setting him and myself up for disappointment.

But still, I stuck around. My feelings were overriding my sensibilities. I knew what I was doing was wrong but I couldn’t help my greed. It was only twenty minutes when the headlights fell upon me and the limousine pulled up next to me.