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

"That's me," I said, wiping the cream cheese from my face. Angus stood there, looking like any regular person off the street. Anybody would have passed on a second glance at him, thinking nothing of this man. "Almost didn't recognize you. Without the..." I made a circle with my finger, gesturing at his attire.

"The uniform?" he smiled. "That's understandable, sometimes, ya' know, I don't even recognize meself." I wondered if he was going to grab a bagel for himself but it seemed he just came over to talk. Not being a great conversationalist, I kept eating. Peter had returned holding a mess of wires wrapped all around him. He saw us and smiled, waving his fingers. "How long have you an' Peter known each other?"

"Since high school," I said, waving back. "He wanted to be in a band and ended up here instead and I stayed home." My job wasn't glamorous enough to divulge but Angus seemed interested all the same. 

"What is it ya' do?" he asked. "Peter mentioned magazines?"

My lips turned into quite the pout. I worked at Venus and I hardly saw any magazines the entire time I was there. All it was was coffee, bakery, taking and sending messages, answering phone calls, more takeout, rifling through file cabinets searching for the misplaced forms Mr. Anderson desperately needed in thirty minutes, and dry cleaning. "I'm a personal assistant," I sighed. My expression must not have been pleasant because Angus frowned. "Probably not what you were expecting."

He shrugged. "Guess not," he said. "Your boss any...." I hid back a smile, knowing he was looking for the nicest word to use. "...trouble?" 

It was my turn to shrug. "He's a decent guy, I guess," I said. "But he doesn't seem to realize how difficult it is to get his paperwork faxed while also getting his coffee without spilling anything." I laughed and Angus took that as permission to laugh as well. "Ought to be an Olympic sport."

Angus finally grabbed some food and held his other hand out. I shook it. "Well, it was nice seein' ya' then, better get back to work," he smiled and I watched him go, finishing my little meal. Wiping away any spare crumbs, I made myself scarce.

Peter was untangling the massive wad of cords he had been carrying, the ends swaying and swinging, almost hitting me. "Get enough to eat?" he asked and I nodded. "So what do you think?"

"About what?" I asked, searching the various faces to see where Angus had gone. Malcolm had finished 'oiling up' his guitar and was now talking to some men I didn't recognize while Cliff was strapping something to his wrist. Angus had disappeared completely. 

"About the expired cream cheese," Peter said and I whirled around to look at him. "About the stadium! The band! The atmosphere!" Peter took a deep breath, inhaling the fine scent of musical machinery and soon to be sweat. "Doesn't it just make you wanna take off your shirt and rock out?"

"You read my mind," I said and Peter laughed. "Tell me you were joking about the cream cheese."

If I thought the stadium was large before, it was nothing compared to now. 

Cheers and chants emanated from the crowd in great bursts of energy. It was difficult to make out any individual person from the wings and the bright stage lights along with the setting sun made it almost impossible. I stepped away from the curtain, my ears already ringing. "The whole damn country is here tonight," Peter said, a pair of headphones around his neck. He reached into a box and pulled out a second pair, handing them to me. "Trust me, you'll need these."

"Thanks," I said and wasted no time putting them on. And not a second too soon as the band started playing. Even through the headphones I could tell these gentlemen were loud. I stayed hidden in the wings while roadies hustled around backstage. Even during showtime these guys never rested. In fact, they were working harder now than ever before. Peter stayed next to me, ready to go if anyone needed a new pick or if Angus needed to switch guitars. 

"It's very rare that he needs a new one before the cue," Peter explained. "But if it happens we'll be ready."

"What?" I said, the music and my headphones blocking out Peter's words. Peter only smiled and nodded towards the stage.

"Look!" he yelled. I looked where he was looking and almost didn't register what I was seeing. Angus came walking up to us, removing his guitar and handing it to Peter. Winking at me, he turned around empty handed and went back out onstage. I kept my eye on both Angus and the roadies, fascinated by what they were doing. Peter handed the old guitar to someone else who rushed off with it. Water dripped off the end, making a trail of spots on the floor. One whiff and I knew it wasn't water. Turning my eyes back to Angus I saw him....dancing? He'd strut across the stage and show the audience what he looked like. Curious and mostly confused, not to mention bright red in the face, I couldn't take my eyes off him. Not even when Peter got a new, fresh guitar ready for him. 

The audience roared when Angus started removing his shirt. 

I wasn't aware this was part of the show. Definitely worth the price of admission.

Peter nudged me with his elbow and I finally broke away from the action to see him laughing. A few of the roadies also found the scene funny and I could just detect the tiniest laugh come from Angus himself. I gave in and started laughing too. 

Until he trotted up to the drum set and toyed with the waistband of his shorts. Then I was bright red again. 

After a phenomenal intermission, Angus came back to Peter who handed him his new guitar and he picked up where the song had left off. The band played on like nothing had happened and the show continued. "How's that for a performance?" Peter said.

"What?" I yelled.

Roadies cleaned up equipment and one lucky man got to scrape Angus' sweaty clothes off the stage. Peter and I removed our headphones and I followed him to the backrooms where the band had gone after the show. "Still got your pass?" he asked. I held up the lanyard around my neck. "Good." Finally we stopped at a door open ajar and Peter led me inside. Deja vu put me in a chokehold and I double checked to make sure I wasn't on any drugs. 

That was absurd, of course I wasn't.

Inside was a pile of men on couches and chairs, chugging drinks and sprawled out where they lay. The show had nearly claimed the lives of everyone involved and this was the aftermath. "Hey, you two," Malcolm said. 

"Hi, Mal," Peter said leading me further in. "Mind if we drop in?"

"Nah," he said, reaching for another water bottle. "Jus' don't talk too loudly, some of us drank before the show."

"Naughty naughty," Peter said, finding two chairs for us to sit down in. Looking around the room I saw Phil and Brian, who I hadn't met yet before the show. Seeing everyone resting and relaxing and engaging in gentle conversation, I realized backstage is nothing like how the movies portray. 

At least, not with a respectful band consisting of older, married men. And thank fuck for that. 

Just as I got comfortable, a conversation started and Peter joined in right away. I was content to sit back and listen when someone pulled up a chair next to me. Angus, towel around his neck and hair in wet tangles, smiled at me and held a cigarette in one hand. "There you are," he said.