“That’s a fancy dress.” He smiles, his yellow teeth on full display.
“It is.” I reply, looking down at the gown. “Can you take me please? I’m in a hurry.”
“Sure, hop in.” He says, closing the comic book and rounding the front of the car. I open the back door of the cab and lift my dress to shove it inside first.
Traffic in Seattle on a Saturday night is its own version of hell, but we finally make it to the entrance doors of the Kingdome. I throw a few bills at the driver and rush to the front gates.
“Ticket please.” The young girl asks, popping her bright pink bubble gum. She’s reading some gossip magazine and doesn’t even bother looking up at me.
“I’m with the band.” I say. I’m not, but I was.
“Yeah, right, come back when you’ve got a-“ she stops, her head finally lifting up from the article. “Holy shit!” She yells. “You’re Pistol!“ she screams, drawing even more attention to me than this dress already does.
“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “I really need to get in there,” I plead. She pushes a little button on the desk and the rotating bars in front of my unlock.
“Go! Hurry!” She yells, knocking me out of my thoughts. I push through the bars and enter the massive building
I run through the halls towards the arena opening, the music is so loud I can’t hear myself think, which is probably a good thing right now.
I run towards the doors, opening them with every ounce of strength I have. They slam open, and I take the side stairs leading down to the main stage.
Rhyit stands on stage, his eyes trained on the front row as he sings the last verse of the song. I watch him shoot someone a wink, and my heart sinks a little. He walks across the stage, Alex and Boston get further into the music as they all dance around with their instruments. Memories of us doing this exact same show, night after night, hit me. I watch as Rhyit grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bottom of the mic stand and takes a long drink, the audience cheers uproariously as he finishes the shot. He hands the bottle off to Alex as he exits the stage. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I take the remaining steps towards the backstage area. Three burly men guard the door leading backstage, all of them in black with security written in yellow across their breast pocket. I step up to them, not recognizing any of their faces.
“You know the rules, sweetcheeks, no one backstage until after the concert.” One of the guys says, looking over my head towards the crowd.
“I know but-“ I start, but the guys sighs heavily.
“The guys will be done soon, and you can go back if they pick you. Although, I think with that get up, they might run for the hills.” He laughs and elbows one of the other guards. The other guard looks me up and down and then laughs loudly.
“Yeah, I would have gone with something a little less desperate.” He says through his chuckling.
Something inside me snaps, and I take a step closer to him. This asshole is making fun of me for no reason other than what I’m wearing.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?” I ask, my voice calm, but the venom is there just below the surface.
“Should I?” He raises an eyebrow, his laughter dying out.
“Pistol Graham.” I enunciate, saying my name slowly so the meatheads understand.
“Holy shit, like the ‘Pistol’?” Guy number three asks, using air quotes like it’s not a real name.
“Yes, the ‘Pistol’,” I use his air quotes back to him. “Where’s Marv?” I ask, and three faces blanch at my request.
“He’s here.” Guy number three says, nodding vigorously. This guy isn’t super smart, but at least he’s helpful.
“Call him please.” I ask, sweetly.
“You can just go on back.” Guy number one says, he’s trying to save face right now.
“Nah, I’d like him to escort me.” I reply. I’m not normally a diva but today, today I’m going to pull out the rockstar card.
“Marv, can we get you to the floor entrance please?” The guard says into the radio connected to his chest.
“Thank you Seattle! It’s been so fucking real! See you in ‘86!” Rhyit’s voice booms around me, and I start to panic. He’s leaving..if I don’t get backstage soon, I’ll miss him, and this whole charade will all be for not.
Seconds later the door opens and Marv exits, and from the pissed off scowl on his face, he’s not happy that he had to be called down here. His face softens when he spots me, and a full grin appears on his face.
“Bristol, my god!” He exclaims, taking a few steps forward before pulling me into a hug. His large arms wrap around me, and I have to fight back the tears. Marv was with us for our first tour and has been with the band ever since. “It’s so good to see you.” He says against my hair, my face is plastered against his chest.