Page 53 of The Pucking Grump

Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling up to the venue. The letters that spell Faye’s name are glittering in red. Beside the name is a giant poster of her wearing a short sparkly dress and holding a guitar in a rockstar pose, strumming the instrument with her face in shadow. The tagline reads, ‘Welcome to Philly.’

A pit forms at the center of my stomach. For the first few days that Faye stayed with me, this is all I wanted—for her to get out of my life and get on with singing her sappy songs. But now, seeing that poster makes me want to go back to those days when it was just us in the cabin.

“Parking is hell to find out here,” Alex complains. Following his gaze, I see that he’s right. The whole place is packed with people and cars. It’s almost impossible for him to drive any closer.

“I know it came with horrible consequences for you, but I’m glad the world is back to loving her,” Ken says. “Kind of messed up what her dad did.”

Way to make me feel better.

“You don’t need to drive all the way to the entrance,” I tell Alex. “I can walk up.”

Alex squints at me. “You sure? There’s bound to be a spot a few blocks down.”

“Yes,” I say firmly. I’m a hundred percent sure that all I’ll want after seeing Faye is to be alone. “I’ll Uber home.”

Ken and Alex exchange glances before Alex concedes, “Alright then. We’ll see you later.”

I step out of the car, instantly feeling like a fish out of water. All around me are hundreds of people chattering excitedly, blown away by the prospect of seeing Faye in real life. There are men, women, young boys and girls. Like a whole tribe of people who are in love with her.

I can’t imagine what would make me stand out from the crowd.

It takes a full ten minutes to push closer to the entrance. Finally, I’m standing in front of a dozen security guards, all of them shoulder to shoulder, pushing back the crowd.

“Step back,” one of them orders before I can even get up the steps. “No one’s being admitted yet.”

Just as I’m about to open my mouth to say something, a girl lets out a loud squeal.

“It’s him! Blake White!”

A loud gasp runs through the crowd. Suddenly, I’m pushed side to side by the torrent of bodies pressing up against me, screaming questions about Faye. My brain goes from normal to buzzed in five seconds, and it’s all I can do to keep standing.

Dimly, I’m aware of someone walking past the security wall and making their way toward me. A firm hand closes on my arm and pulls me past the crowd clamoring around me, past the unsmiling guards, and into the building. I’m suddenly in a dark corridor to the side of the huge amphitheater, and a bespectacled man holding a clipboard is staring at me anxiously. He looks vaguely familiar.

“We didn’t know you were coming,” he cries, flipping the pages on his clipboard anxiously. “We don’t have you penciled in here at all. Does Kevin even know?

Digging in my brain, I finally recognize him as one of Kevin’s assistants.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly relaxing. “So, what? You want to wish Faye luck before the big event? The paps will go crazy if they see you guys together onstage. Also, you really should have informed us you were coming. The fans are very nice, but sometimes they can get too eager. Might tear you apart, you know. Also, we could have prepared a more . . . fitting . . . outfit for you.” He eyes my sweatpants dubiously.

His speech is two seconds from driving me insane. “I’m just here to see Faye. No public appearances. Take me to her, will you?”

He swallows, looking offended. But then he turns and walks away, gesturing for me to follow. He leads me through several dark hallways, some of which feature the poster of Faye I saw outside. With every step I take, the pit in my stomach grows even larger.

This is the right decision. My head knows it, and my feelings will catch up eventually. Even if my friends had not mentioned it, I’d have come to it sooner or later. Outside of the tiny little cabin, Faye Strummer is too big to fit into my world.

I have to let her go.

“Here we are,” the man whispers. He pushes aside a black velvety curtain in front of us, exposing a door. He knocks gently on it and slips in.

I follow him, the dazzling lights in the room blinding me instantly. There’s about a dozen light sources in here, and almost as many people—women poring over a couple of dress stands, three other men examining a fleet of shoes, and some people stashed off to the side, writing on clipboards. In the center of it all, in front of a huge mirror rimmed with light bulbs, Faye is getting her hair and makeup done by two stylists.

I stare at her. Her hair is smooth and curled at the ends, her face is half made-up, and she’s wearing a sparkly short jumpsuit similar to the one on the poster.

She looks like a stranger.

“I’ve got a surprise for you!” the man next to me squeals, startling me. Everyone turns toward us, and another gasp runs through the room.

---