Part 9
"Rich?" Paul softly touched my arm, and I turned to him. "Rich, this is Austin, my drummer," Paul introduced me, turning to face me fully. "Austin, this is Richard."
For the first time, Austin acknowledged my existence, albeit dismissively as though he were brushing away a fly. He gave me a casual glance and a brief nod, then turned back to focus his full attention on Paul as he let him into the dressing room. Paul reached around to grab hold of my wrist and led me inside. The room was fairly well-sized with lounge chairs sitting on either sides of the room, a long mirror fixed along one wall with bar stools and bags piled into another corner. Scattered around the room were band members, management, roadies and groupies scantily clothed and clinging cigarettes between their retro-pink fingernails. Random people raised their heads in our direction in recognition of the stranger who had just joined them. Paul led me to the couch that held the band members and greeted each of them with a complicated handshake and a smile.
"Richard, meet my band. You�ve already met Austin, but this is Jason, my bass player, Luke, my guitarist, and Steve, my keyboard player."
The band members were very friendly and outstretched their hands for welcoming handshakes immediately. They were generally dressed the same but with a few accessories to break the resemblance a little better. The room was filled with the aroma of cigarette smoke and the tables underneath the mirror were covered with bags, alcohol bottles and familiar trails of white powder. Groupies clung to the band like parasites, even going so far as to sit on their laps. The �sex, drugs and rock and roll� rule was definitely being enforced. Austin moved away from Paul towards the bathroom, allowing me an opportunity to talk to Paul.
"So what�s the story with Austin?" I asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow. Paul pulled a beer bottle from an esky and handed it to me as he sat us down in a spare space on the couch.
"Austin and I were mates in high school," he explained, wiping off a speck of dirt from his boots. "He was the first to join the band. That must�ve been about a year and a half ago now."
"That wasn�t the story I was talking about..."
"Oh. That." He glanced over at the bathroom door. "Well, yeah, we were for a while. He was my first boyfriend, actually. We were studying the same course at university, and by the time we�d graduated the relationship just wasn�t going anywhere. So we both agreed to go back to the way things were."
"So what was with the hug and kiss back there?" Oh, great, now I sounded like a jealous boyfriend. Paul didn�t comment on it, though, but only laughed. I got the feeling that he knew just what I was getting at.
"I greet just about all of my friends like that. I love to give and receive as much affection as possible. I would�ve hugged the rest of my band but that would also mean getting a face full of silicon boob while I was at it - these girls are completely man-made, there�s no mistake about that!"
"I won�t!" I agreed, laughing along with him as a groupie sitting nearby stood up, straightened her dress and walked to the other side of the room, casting a condemning eye in our direction. "So could I be right in saying that the girls provide some �after-show entertainment� for you?"
Paul smiled knowingly. 'Well, they do for the band...Exhibit A." He motioned towards the girl who was previously sitting behind us, who was now engaged in a languid liplock with Luke. "As for me...not as much as they used to. I�m just looking to settle down a little more."
"That�s something you wouldn�t normally see a rockstar doing. For most of them, waking up with someone new each morning is something they quite enjoy."
"Well, you�ve gotta grow up sometime, haven�t you?" His hand disappeared into his bag, fumbling around for his eyeliner. "Casual sex just doesn�t have the same appeal that it used to. There�s too much to take into consideration, too many risks. Now, i�m usually a risk-taker, but this is one thing I can�t bring myself to do. Whoops," he said, bending down to retrieve a tube of cocaine that had fallen out of his bag. As he bent down to pick it up, I thought of an idea that may get him a little frustrated but may make a point to him. Before his hand could reach the tube, I stretched my foot out and nudged it away, sending it rolling along the floor before it was stepped on by a passing roadie with a crack.
"Aah, shit!" Paul grunted, slumping back into his chair. "That was my last one too."
"Why would you want that shit in your body, anyway?" I asked, feeling a little sense of accomplishment. A little discussion could drive the point home and hopefully make Paul come to his senses. I wasn�t going to create pressure and force help onto someone who perhaps didn�t want help, but if there was a possibility that I could make any amount of impact on him, then I wanted to do what I could.
He shrugged, burying his head into the depths of his bag in search for any drugs that could�ve gone astray. "It�s not a necessity, but it makes me feel better. Makes me happier."
I opened my mouth to voice my strong disagreement but before I could utter a word, there was a loud knock at the dressing room door and a Metro staff member poked his head into the room with a pair of earphones.
"Are you guys ready for your soundcheck?" he asked.
"Yeah, we�ll be out in a sec," Paul replied on the band�s behalf. They nodded their heads in silent confirmation, and the staff member disappeared from view. As the band grabbed their instruments and began to file into the hallway, Paul stood up and stretched his arm to help me onto my feet.
"You�re coming to watch, aren�t you?" he asked, secretly knowing that there was no way I would object. I nodded and pulled my mobile phone out of a compartment in my bag, slipping it into my pocket in case someone called. Paul placed his hand on the small of my back and led me out the door, and the familiar tingles shot throughout my body. While I still couldn�t identify a reason for the sensation, it wasn�t unpleasant. From the corner of my eye I saw the cocaine flattened into the otherwise clean dressing room carpet, and the image of Paul taking the powder into himself popped into my mind. During the break between this soundcheck and the actual show, I made a mental note to discuss the matter further with Paul. I couldn�t ignore it and let it slide � it was an issue that had to be dealt with. I wasn�t sure whether Paul would be very pleased with me being so inquisitive, but I wanted to help him, in any way that I could.
Someone so beautiful, I thought, shouldn�t fall victim to such an addictive and harmful substance.
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The room that Paul and his band were performing in was an all-standing area, with only a couple of chairs available at the side of the large room. I�d dragged one of them to the side of the stage and enjoyed one of the best views of the stage that I would get that evening. Rumours around the Metro were circulating that the gig was a sellout. Before the soundcheck had started, I�d bought a drink from the bar and overheard two bartenders discussing it. I knew Paul would be pleased with the news and I was hoping to speak to him in between songs, but for the majority of the show they went from one song to the other with a break of only three or four seconds, and that time was spent exchanging quick words to one another, so opportunities to talk to him were slim at that point in time. I decided I�d save the good news for later and now found myself sitting close to the stage, drawing deeply on a cigarette and keeping my eyes on Paul. Even when there were very few people to watch and listen, he still put remarkable energy into his performance, although not as much as he would when he had an audience. Every now and then our eyes would meet, and he would acknowledge me with a smile, enjoying every moment onstage. The set mainly consisted of covers with a selection of Paul�s original songs slid in here and there. A few other people stood near the stage, both men and women, tapping their feet in time with the music and shouting in each-other�s ears. I hadn�t seen them before, they hadn�t been in the dressing room, but Paul obviously did and went into flirt mode. But when he looked at me, there was something in his gaze that I hadn�t seen in the looks he gave to the others. I couldn�t work out what it was, but every time he did so, I couldn�t help but smile, and a gentle, comfortable warmth would fill me. I didn�t know if the other people in the room were aware of it, but on the other hand I didn�t care. Paul made me feel as though I were the only person in the room, that every note he hit was being sung especially for me.
"If you want you could get to know me well, we get along so we shouldn�t argue..." Paul sang, taking a step back and pulling the microphone closer to him, gripping the stand with his hair waving lightly around his head. Our eyes met once again and he smiled, giving me a wink. God, I wished I could see that face and hear that voice for as long as I lived. I knew he was aware of what he was doing, the effect he was having on me, and he loved it, loved possessing that power. The incident at his house was still fresh in his mind and he wanted it to happen as well � but I thought that now wasn�t the time to initiate anything between us. It was too soon. With his hectic schedule and personal difficulties, along with my own life, we would barely find time for each-other. I considered myself lucky that I could see him so much during the past two days, and then I wondered whether we�d be able to maintain the closeness we�d built in this very short time. I didn�t want to lose that. I loved how he made me feel.
My mobile phone rang with the chorus of �Shake Your Groove Thing� and the screen lit up, displaying Tez�s name and phone number. Knowing that there was no possible way I would clearly hear Tez if I stayed in the room, I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I hurried into the backstage corridor, shutting the door behind me to drown out the music.
"Tez?"
"Rich?" I heard him ask loudly into his mobile phone. Judging by the noises I could hear in the background, he was somewhere in the city. "I just went by your house and you weren�t there!"
"I�m in the city at the moment."
"Same here. Anyway, I thought I�d call you to let you know that Paul�s doing a gig tonight at the Metro. I�ve seen about seven ads for the gig already and I haven�t been down here for very long. Did you already know?"
"Um, yeah, I did. Paul called and told me. I�m standing backstage right now, actually."
"He called you? How did he get your number?"
"He came back to my house after we dropped you off at home last night. He left in the morning."
"Oh." There was a moment�s pause on his end of the line. "Did you and Paul...you know..."
I knew he was leading up to and answered him before he could find the right way to finish his sentence. "No, no, we didn�t, not yet."
"Not yet, you say?" I could almost imagine Tez lifting his eyebrows and slipping into a lopsided smile � it was his trademark expression. I decided to tell Tez about what had happened at Paul�s house � I�d always been able to confide in him before, and this moment was no exception. As I talked to him, a flickering memory of the incident that morning at my house flashed through my mind. I was thankful in the way that Tez was handling the rejection; then again, he�d never been one to sit back and lament. He would always dust himself off and move along. I admired him for that strength.
By the time I finished my story I had moved from the door to the hallway near the band�s dressing room. The hallways were silent except for the humming of the air conditioners and the occasional pair of footsteps walking from around corners. Tez had remained silent throughout my story, only speaking up at the end.
"My my! Well, lover boy, you�d better not waste the next opportunity you have to get this man, he�s a hottie!" he said with a gentle teasing tone in his voice.
"So you don�t mind, then?"
"Hmmm?" He remembered our encounter after a brief moment. "Oh! Oh, nah, why should I mind?"
"Well, you know..."
"Babe, don�t worry at all about that. I ain�t what you need. Besides, you know what they say about friendships developing into relationships. If it didn�t work out, you could never go back to being friends because it just isn�t possible. I really value our friendship, Rich. You�re a great mate."
"So are you." We took another pause while smiling to ourselves. "Hey, listen, are you coming to the Metro?"
"I�m thinking about it. I�m not too fond of the idea of being carried home in a pizza box, though � these all-standing gigs can get pretty squishy!"
"Maybe if I met up with you before the concert I could get you a good spot to watch the gig. I�d have to check with Paul, though." The band finished playing on the stage, and I assumed that they would now busy themselves finalizing lyrics, chords and lighting, so I didn't move.
"That�d be really good if you could." I heard a muffled voice in the background and Tez exchanging short words with the owner of the voice. "Rich, I have to go. I�ll call you when I�m there, alright?"
After saying our goodbyes I pressed the End button on my phone and slipped it back into my pocket, finding myself staring at the dressing room door. I nudged it open with my foot. There didn�t appear to be anyone inside. Paul�s entourage was gathered near the stage and I hadn�t seen a staff member in quite a while. My eyes fell upon the mashed cocaine on the carpet � it seemed to me that nobody had bothered to report it. It�d most likely be cleaned later that evening or early in the morning, but while it was there it seriously bothered me.
An idea began to form. After quickly checking that nobody was coming, I ducked into the dressing room and pushed the door behind me, knowing that it hadn�t shut fully and a very small gap was between the door and the wall. I grabbed the first bag I saw and rummaged through it, my hand emerging with three tubes of cocaine. I stuffed them into my pocket and moved on to the next bag, feeling much better about myself with each one. I repeated to myself in my head, 'I�m doing a good thing, I�m doing a good thing'. And I was, even though my actions could be considered as stealing.
After a few minutes I reached the last bag � Paul�s. While Paul had told me that the tube of cocaine that had been stepped on was his last one, I figured that I had better check anyway just in case there were forgotten tubes that he didn�t know were still in his bag. But as I picked up the bag and grabbed the zipper, a hand reached out and pulled it forcefully out of my hands.
Part 10