The Ruby Riot Series: Box Set Part 7

"You won't," replies Jax and wraps an arm around her shoulder. "Come on, first I'll find you some water."

I hover on the edge of the scene, feeling intrusive. Ruby straightens and stares at me in alarm as if she forgot I'm here too.

"Okay. Let's go," she says, turning away from me quickly.

Something else in her eyes, besides the tears, hits a sixth sense. Her situation is more than a worry about tonight.

7.

TEGAN.

I loiter around the trestle tables as a couple of young guys cut open cardboard boxes filled with t-s.h.i.+rts. The younger-looking of the two guys pins them to the board behind us. Another with long hair more befitting to a Blue Phoenix fan scrawls prices on paper, attaching them next to the s.h.i.+rts. Neither bothered introducing themselves.

Sam hasn't arrived yet to tell me what my duties are when selling the merchandise, and I've no clue what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm where I was told to be, at the right time.

"You want help?" I ask.

The longhaired kid in the Blue Phoenix t-s.h.i.+rt shrugs. "Don't know. Sort the badges out?"

He points to a smaller box, which I pull open and take out a bag of b.u.t.ton badges. The badges are a selection featuring Blue Phoenix and Ruby Riot logos, alb.u.m covers, and names. Official badges, not the silly homemade ones with band members' names on that I saw pinned to girls' bags back when I was at school. I spent a lot of time at school pretending Bryn Hughes wasn't related to me, but once I went home with a Team Bryn badge, which I proceeded to wear when he visited. Grinning at the memory, I pin a set of four badges to my sleeveless tee before grabbing another set and attempting to fix them to the board behind.

"Are you Tegan?"

I look over. A guy a few years older than I am - tall, skinny, ha.s.sled - studies me. "I am. Are you Sam?"

He nods, and throws me a lanyard with a plastic pocket attached. "Bryn asked me to give you this. He forgot earlier."

I catch the pa.s.s, brightly coloured with band logos and my name printed, allowing me entry to everywhere tonight, and laugh. "I should hope I have access to all areas!"

The hipster-looking guy next to me looks at my pa.s.s with curiosity as I string it around my neck. He has one too - printed 'Staff'. "Who'd you sleep with to get that?" he asks in a local accent.

I turn my back, refusing to be drawn into a conversation with him. Rude. "I looked for you earlier," I say to Sam. "Wasn't sure what I needed to do."

He runs a hand through his short brown hair. "Yeah, this was dropped on me. I have people contracted for tonight you'll have to start working when we arrive in Madrid."

"Oh. Right." Yes. I can watch the opening night. "So you don't need my help?"

"Help finish setting up if you like, but you don't need to stay once the doors open. Unless you want to."

"Will I get paid?"

"Nope."

"Right, I'll help set up then go." If there's no financial reward, no way am I dealing with the general public.

Sam hands a clipboard to the longhaired guy who's kept quiet since Sam arrived, intently counting the contents of the boxes. "This is yesterday's stock count. Make sure everything is accounted for." Sam catches sight of my badges and raises a brow.

I smile sweetly. "Am I allowed a t-s.h.i.+rt to go with my badges? Call it a work uniform."

Grabbing an item from the nearest box, Sam chucks a t-s.h.i.+rt at me with a small shake of the head. "Wear this. The one you're wearing is old and not a great ad for the new gear."

I hold up the stretch tee with the tour dates on the back and the Blue Phoenix logo on the front, and debate whether to ask for a Ruby Riot one instead. Their logo is prettier, but Jax might take it as a hint. "Cheers!"

"Right. I'll be back when the doors open," he says to the nameless guys with me.

Sam disappears and my companions aren't chatty, so I set about grouping the t-s.h.i.+rts and tote bags into piles on the long table, singing to myself.

Blue Phoenix.

Access All Areas.

Tonight's going to be interesting.

An hour later, I hang around between the front barriers and the edge of the stage, as the stadium slowly fills. When I approached, security was on the brink of shoving me away until I flashed them my pa.s.s. One man gave me a curt nod and spoke to the burly guy threatening to put his hands on me. The second guy's stance softened and he nodded too. Now, I sit on the edge of the barrier chatting to head of security, Mac, about his experiences on tour with Blue Phoenix. Mac's from Newcastle, and toured with the band since the early days. He's moved up the ranks from hired muscle to chief of the hired muscle, as integral to the tour as any PR guy or manager. Crew cut, muscle-bound, and with an aura telling those around he means business; he's definitely somebody I need onside.

As I wait, the venue fills, and I watch the groups mill about, reserving their spot on the floor as they stand and chat. There's a real mix of people: groups of chattering teen girls, a middle-aged couple and a quiet and serious looking group of guys. I guess there's no such thing as an average Blue Phoenix fan; their music permeates the world.

Two girls in Ruby Riot t-s.h.i.+rts stare at me and I grin; I have pride of place in my position close to the stage. I've never been important before; I'll stay here and make the most of my VIP status.

JAX.

Pre-performance alcohol has never been more tempting, but never such a bad idea.

Opening Blue Phoenix's European tour is a huge honour but terrifying. Okay, we moved on from dingy pubs and clubs to larger venues when we toured under Jem's guidance last year, but never a stadium. Only tonight, when I saw the size of the place did the reality hit home. Thousands of people. Tens of thousands. The largest place we played last year had around three hundred.

I steer clear of Ruby until I have to talk to her; she's never personable before gigs. Quiet after the drama this afternoon, she at least looks better. Ruby never has a lot of colour in her face, but her eyes are brighter. I expected Jem to be around; but Ruby informed me she'd told him to stay away and needed to do this without him hovering.

Suits me.

Will and Nate go through their pre-show ritual, a lot of jostling and p.i.s.s-taking of each other. They extend the joking to me, but they learned long ago to leave Ruby alone.

The twins are happy to indulge in a couple of pre-show drinks, their nervous energy increased by the beer as they charge up and down the hallway like big kids. At one point, the pair plays their bizarre twin 'word game' that involves shouting, dares, and more beer. At one point, Will runs past waving Nate's jeans yelling something indecipherable. I gave up figuring out their secret signals and language years ago.

f.u.c.k knows what they'll be like at the after party.

"Big kids," says Ruby as she appears from the dressing room.

"We are kids. You're spending too much time with the new, serious Jem."

Ruby adjusts the strap on her black cherry-printed halter dress. "Don't start on Jem again."

I want to say to her that less than two months ago he ripped her heart out, and ask how she could forgive him, but I don't. Ruby has her combat boots on and she wears those on days she means business. Days you don't want to p.i.s.s her off.

"How you feeling about tonight?" she asks.

"b.l.o.o.d.y terrified."

Ruby nods. "Me too, but we'll be f.u.c.king awesome."

I admit my biggest fear. "I'm worried people only came for Phoenix, and won't be interested in us."

"Seriously, Jax? They f.u.c.king love you!"

Last night, at the club, reinforces Ruby's words, but I don't mean chicks. I don't want to be the pretty boy guitarist who's looked down on by established musicians because I appeal to the teens; I want to be known for my talent. Not that I'm complaining about the girls - perk of the job.

"Yeah. I guess." I shake my hands out and take deep breaths. "What time is it?"

Ruby pulls a face to indicate she doesn't know.

"Five minutes." The stage manager, Barry, hold his palm up, fingers spread out and my stomach lurches.

As I step toward the stage door to take a look at the crowd, Ruby grabs my arm. "Don't. You'll feel worse."

"Will! Nate!" I turn and yell. When there's no response, I yell again.

"Jesus, man!" Nate appears from the dressing room and strides toward us.

Seconds later, Will appears and charges behind his brother, jumping on his back. Nate stumbles, but Will locks his arms around his neck and legs around his waist. "Go, go, go!" he calls out.

Nate laughs and the pair approaches before Nate tips Will off his back. "Oh, serious face!" he says to me and juts his bottom lip out.

I glower and Nate taps me on the head with his drumsticks. "Have fun! This is going to be a night we'll always remember!" He looks over my shoulder. "You okay, Rube?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Breathing deeply, she turns and heads to the stage door, pausing. "Let's do this."

The brothers are physical, but Ruby never is; she retreats into a weird zone of her own before we go on stage and shuts out everything around her. Will and Nate flank me, arms across my shoulders and mine around their waist.

"We made it, man!" says Nate. "We f.u.c.king made it!"

Stepping onto stage, I squint into the darkness, up at the half-empty rows of seats. The venue lights are dim, the audience hard to see, but the stadium floor is half-empty. A murmur runs through the crowd followed by a cheer as I turn to grab my guitar. Our equipment sits in front of Blue Phoenix's so everything can be cleared quickly for the main act, and I check for the taped mark on the floor by my mic stand, looping the strap across my shoulder.

The stadium floor may be half-empty, but still three times as many as our usual audience; the cheer echoing around is louder than I expected. Used to small s.p.a.ces, I'm worried the intimacy and interaction with the audience will be lost. Anxious excitement batters my stomach and chest as I snapshot this moment in my mind. I nod at a smiling Ruby and look back to Nate who taps the opening beat to 'My Kinda Disaster'.

A shout goes up rippling through the people pushed against the nearby barrier, and a voice yells the first line.

They recognise the song.

They know us.

These people came to see Ruby Riot.

This crowd will walk out of here tonight buzzing with the energy crackling through the room.

Yeah, we f.u.c.king made it.

8.

TEGAN.

I don't notice the extra bodies filling the s.p.a.ce because I'm so engrossed in Mac's tales of touring. Mac a.s.sures me a lot of the time on tour is mundane, but he tells some funny stories about the young Blue Phoenix's antics. Mac's half way through a story about a raid on Dylan's hotel room on their first big tour, which ended with all parties stoned including the police sent to investigate them, when movement on stage catches my eye.

Excited shouts and a surge forward by the group of girls who'd hung back near me silence the conversations in the waiting crowd. I'm close enough to see the band. Jax is on the side of the stage next to me, but he doesn't notice, peering out from under his fringe at the crowd before glancing at his band mates.

I love live music, more than clubs, but this is my first Ruby Riot concert. They never performed near my hometown; and when Ruby Riot hit the music industry radar, I was travelling. Near the edge of the stage, I'm too close and want a clearer view; I hop over the barrier and join the throng. I can't be bothered fighting with the fan girls hanging over the barrier, yelling, so I step back further into the crowd. My height comes in useful sometimes, my view of the band un.o.bstructed even though I'm several rows back.

Without a word, the band launches into their first track, a frenzied intro giving way to Ruby's powerful voice. Some songs, you hear a thousand times on the radio or in clubs, and they stick with you because they're good. Then, you hear them live, amongst people shouting the lyrics, infecting each other with excitement and they sound incredible. For the next few minutes, I'm surrounded by the energy of the crowd, the vibe coiling around and dragging me into their world as the bodies jostle in unison. The track finishes. Ruby Riot doesn't speak but break into the next song, a change of tempo but as powerful as the last.

Jax.

Watching him on stage is like seeing a different person. He's the same good-looking guy in his rock and roll uniform, but so much more. Suddenly Jax's jeans appear to hug him that much better; and I can't drag my gaze from his lithe, muscled body as he moves on stage. The lights capture Jax's face as they strobe, stroking the angles of his face and highlighting a smile on his full mouth. I've met him several times, aware of his attractiveness, but this is different. This is Jax, the Rock Star.

Now I understand all the hype about the guy, but this isn't hype. This is real. Jax Lewis has a presence that matches his talent and I'm enthralled by him.

At school, boys learned the aphrodisiac nature of forming a band; for some reason put a guitar into a guy's hands who can play, and girls are guaranteed. Put that guitar into the hands of the talented, self-a.s.sured, and smoking hot Jax Lewis and the girls queue around the block. Literally.

A few minutes later, Jax speaks a simple thank you to the crowd and an intro to the next song; the girl next to me screams his name. I rub my ear and scowl at her, but I get it. I totally get it.

As Jax eases into the performance, he relaxes further and his confidence radiates into the audience. Jostled by the eager dancers either side of me, I stand transfixed, the memory of our charged meeting this morning heating my blood further. I'm gone. Lost. Jax has me in his spell, each note he plays vibrating beneath my skin until I'm unaware of the rest of the band, willing him to notice me.

A pause between tracks and Jax lifts a hand to push hair from his face. I'm close enough to see the dark patches where the perspiration dampens his t-s.h.i.+rt across his chest and the way his hair messes further with the action. I'm also close enough to see when Jax scans the crowd, smiling. A hundred girls' hearts explode and I'm betting there's some panty dampening going on that has nothing to do with being in the middle of a sweaty crowd.

I'm not immune from the effect either, and my involuntary l.u.s.t for this guy shocks me.

When Jax's look rests on me, my brain empties and the remaining oxygen in the claustrophobic crowd disappears. Jax's attention remains fixed on me and I smile. The smile he returns is different to the one he's thrown at the rest of the girls, a smile for me, a connection that somersaults my stomach. Men don't have this effect on me; but I've never been smiled at by a rock star surrounded by people l.u.s.ting after him, and his focus is me.

This is bad.

Very bad.