How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Four: Backstage

They're right over there....just a few steps away...

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. I came all this way for nothing. I failed my mission. The 抖阴社区 story is canceled. They sent the wrong woman. Just as I was about to turn around and run for the hills...

"Come on, don't be shy." The roadie found me and escorted me to where the band was. 

I almost threw up. 

They were all sitting down with the exception of one man who was taking photos. He had a badge on his shirt and a cigarette in his mouth. I steered clear of him, not wanting to interrupt any of his artistic shots of the band. 

Would a photo of me from 1978 end up circulating the internet in 2024?

I didn't have time to think about it. The roadie positioned me right in front of the band and friends. "Found another one," he said patting me on the shoulder. I stared at the ground. "She's a shy one."

"That's not a problem," Bon said. Bon Belfucking Scott, the second lead singer this band ever had who was sitting right in front of me alive and in person. Not just a grainy, black and white photo with a watermark covering his face. This was him in the fucking flesh. 

I almost burst into tears. 

My emotions were launched into the air when I caught sight of Malcolm. Malcolm was actually my favorite member of the band despite all the stories I wrote. And I couldn't even tell you why. He was a great guitar player...but I didn't know a thing about guitars. I couldn't say he had great sound or technique or whatever else. So that couldn't have been it. He was a stud, no doubt about that. But that wasn't the reason either. It was like something in my DNA was coded to have Malcolm as my favorite member of the band and my favorite guitarist ever. And when I first saw AC/DC on YouTube, I took one look and said, "Yeah. I like that guy."

And that was that. 

I was rooted to my spot as someone handed me a beer. I held the can. I don't drink. 

"We don't bite, love," Cliff said messing around with a bit of tape. He was even better looking in real life....

I stepped a little closer with my pass and unopened beer and held the tears in. I was making a complete idiot of myself in front of the best band in the world and I didn't even care.

"You alright?" Bon asked. 

"Yep," I managed, choking down my feelings. "Fine, fine."

"Good," he smiled. I took notice of the other women in the area. They were all very pretty with passes just like mine. All well dressed with voluminous hair and painted nails. If I had known I'd be showing my legs off to a bunch of handsome gentlemen I'd have cleaned up a little. The other male guests with us wore denim jackets or leather. 

Hey, we match.

"Don't suppose you wanna place to sit?" Bon asked scooting over on the bench. My feet moved by themselves and next thing I know I'm sitting next to Bon who was drinking out of a bottle. 

And not wearing a shirt. 

Actually, none of the band were wearing shirts.

I suddenly felt overdressed. 

Bon nudged me with his hand and gestured at my beer can. "We'd have gotten better kinds if we'd have known we were having such company," he said smiling. I smiled back before looking at the can I was holding. Some brand I'd never heard of and can't remember now. "We're not exactly rollin' in money."

I still hadn't said anything. I'd been here five minutes and hadn't said a word. Come on, Hannah, work your groupie magic!

"What's your name then?" Bon asked. I suddenly wondered if I should be giving out a fake name. Or a nickname. Didn't lots of groupies have little nicknames? But of course I was unprepared for this and was certainly no Penny Lane. I wasn't even any Lady Goodman.