Only Fools Rush In (And I Ain't No Fool)

"Here, put this on," Peter said, handing me a lanyard attached to a piece of plastic. The plastic had a card inside with 'AC/DC' on it. "This says you're one of us." I hung the lanyard around my neck as I followed Peter around the backstage area. 

The stadium was fucking huge. 

It was an outdoor arena that overlooked an open space surrounded by the bowl. The stage stretched out like the neck of a guitar and the roadies worked like hell to get the equipment set up. "Pardon me, love," one of them said and I quickly jumped out of his way as he pushed a rolling cart of amplifiers around. 

"So this is where they're playing tonight," Peter said as he marveled at the scene. "Pretty neat, right?"

"Stages look much smaller in photographs," I said, shivering at the idea of performing on one of these in front of thousands. "Like cars. You don't realize how big they are until you're behind the wheel." 

"You get used to it," Peter said, leading me to the other side. There stood a man looking over a guitar. "Hey, there's Mal."

Oh goodie. One of the ones I remembered meeting during my....incident. 

Peter led me right to him and Malcolm looked us over. "There you are, was about to file a missin' person's report," he said. "Ya' make it okay?"

"Yep, got Hannah all sobered up and ready to rock," Peter said, ruffling my hair. I turned a beet red and covered my face. 

"I'm so sorry about yesterday," I mumbled. "I'm not usually like that."

"Don't worry about it, ya' know how many times we've been drunk?" Malcolm asked. Peter nudged me with his elbow.

"Told you." Malcolm kept fiddling with the guitar and playing around with the strings. A fly kept buzzing around and he shooed it off. "Guitar bugging you, Mal?"

"Nah, it's jus' the peg's givin' me a rough time," he said, tuning the strings. "I'll have this thing oiled up an' ready in' five minutes."

"Who needs roadies when you have Malcolm Young?" Peter said. Malcolm only shrugged. 

"I'm no expert," he said. "You an' your friends help more than ya' think." Peter gushed as Malcolm of AC/DC complimented him. Malcolm turned to me. "We get to sleep while these guys clean up."

"Yeah, it's great," Peter mumbled, not quite as thrilled at that remark. "But I still wouldn't rather do something else. I've been telling Hannah this is the best job in the world." Both looked at me now.

"Can ya' lift heavy things, then?" Malcolm asked and I almost burst out laughing. There were plenty of athletic women in this world who could lift men over their shoulders and hurl them across the room without breaking a sweat. Unfortunately, I was not one of them. 

"Are you kidding?" I asked, showing them my arm. I could flex and have a decent bicep but on the daily I was naught but a twig. 

"Well, then you can order Peter around for me," Malcolm smiled. "Ain't that about right, Peter?"

"Alright, alright, very funny, come on, Hannah," Peter said, gesturing me to follow him. 

"Have fun then," Malcolm called as he went back to his guitar. The lanyard bounced against me and swung back and forth as I hustled to keep up with Peter's long stride. I felt much better about what happened last night, and didn't worry about what these men must have thought seeing me so out of it. At least, Malcolm wasn't bothered. 

"This is our makeshift supply closet," Peter said, showing me a huge trunk of various things. Cord spaghetti spilled out the sides and underneath it all was a small container of guitar picks. "It's uh...not that exciting..."