Page 13 of Still Her

Over the nexttwo and a half weeks, we dot along the southern edge of the US with an occasional jaunt up to some inland states, hitting the major cities, sometimes staying two or three nights in one, either because the guys have two shows, or just so they can catch their breath. We haven’t heard anything from Eli, and the more time that goes by, the more I’m convinced my vivid imagination ran away with me the day of the shoot.

And then we get to Houston. It’s a typical evening of the guys out rocking a show in the stadium on the other side of the lot, as I type my ass off on the bus. I’m drafting another blog post, as well as trying to create an outline for another book, and type up some notes for a dance routine that I can teach the next timeTop Dancerhas me on.

When I am satisfied with what I have on all fronts, I gently close my laptop and get up to put on some better clothes. I braid the front strands of my hair along the side of my head and pull the rest back in a low knot. Clad in my jeans and black hoodie, I slip my backstage lanyard on and make my way off the bus. When I step off and close the door, I can already hear the booming of the bass drums and the roar of the crowd not too far in the distance. Shane, one of the band’s bodyguards, is standing guard for me, resting with his back against the bus. He straightens up when I step off.

“Evening, Mrs. Krasinski,” he greets me with his bright white smile that stands out in stark contrast against his dark skin.

“Mayzie,” I smile back, putting my hands in my hoodie pockets.

He ducks his head and smiles. “I keep forgetting. Headed to catch the rest of the show?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

“It’s why I’m here,” he says, falling into step with me. It’s not totally dark out, but dark enough, and it’s good to have someone capable escort me through the village of trucks and buses. As we make our way down the backstage corridor, I begin to feel the music thump in my chest, giving me that little bump of adrenaline. Watching the guys go crazy and work up the audience never gets old. I can’t see them yet, but I only have one more corner to turn. When I reach it, I come to a sudden halt. I don’t even mean to. My legs simply stop walking as I stare straight ahead at the open space that offers a side view of the stage. Ron is watching the show with his hands in his jacket pockets as he talks to Eli, who is standing next to him with his arms crossed.What is he doing here?

“Everything okay?” Shane asks looking down at me, leaning like he wants to keep shifting his weight forward to continue the rest of the walk to the stage.

“Uh… yeah,” I reply, not taking my eyes off of the two men. I don’t know why I’m so jolted, especially after I had convinced myself of the idea that Eli is harmless, but an overwhelming discomfort blankets me and I’m leery of approaching them. Maybe it’s just because his presence is unexpected. The exchange between Ron and Eli looks pleasant enough, as they both smile casually and look between each other and the show. I shake myself out of the moment and remind myself that Shane is wondering why the hell I’ve stopped our route to the stage. “I think some business talk is going on there,” I recover, waving my hand at Ron and Eli. “I think I’ll actually just wait for the guys in the dressing room.” Which means I’ll be bored to death because the guys are only halfway through their show. I didn’t bring my Kindle or anything. I was counting on being entertained by my guys, but my psyche seems to have reverted back to feeling squirmy near Eli. Wish I knew what the hell that’s about; why his presence dictates my comfort level. It’s ridiculous.

Shane walks with me to the dressing room and I’m relieved to find Kelly there, stocking the mini fridge with bottled waters. She always has water and towels ready for them when they come off stage, because she’s awesome like that. I tell Shane he’s off the hook and I settle in on the couch to hang out with Kelly. We giggle and shoot the shit with the faint sounds of bass, cheers, and pyrotechnics going off in the background.

I can hear the finale, the climatic cacophony of drum beats, a crazed crowd, and the shouts of Jack and Matt into their mics, thanking the audience and bidding them goodnight. Moments later, I hear them making their way down the corridor, their voices and laughs exuberant with energy that grows louder as they get closer. I stand up as the guys shuffle into the dressing room looking whipped and sweaty.

“Hey baby,” Jack greets me while he accepts a towel from Kelly. He leans down to kiss me, keeping the rest of his body away from me, afraid of dripping sweat on me. He leans back and puts his flushed face in the towel and scrubs it over his hair. When I look up, I see Ron and Eli walk into the room.

“Hey guys,” Ron raises his voice so he can be heard over the post show commotion. “Eli’s got something to tell us.”

“Yeah, hey!” Josh exclaims when he realizes Eli is here. “What are you doing here, man?” He makes his way over to Eli to give him the man handshake-half-hug thing.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be in your cushy mansion or your office making some deal?” Chris chides as he raises a water bottle to his lips.

“Well, speaking of deals, that’s why I’m here,” Eli answers, walking to the center of the room and holding his hands out. “I’ve just recently made one involving you guys, and some news is just too damn good to share over speakerphone. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the looks on all your faces when I tell you this,” he leads in with his eyebrows raised and a teasing smile, trying to get the guys on the edge of their seats. I admit, he has my attention. Jack stands behind me and puts his arms around my shoulders. My arms come up to hold onto his like we’re bracing each other for what’s coming.

“You guys,” Eli says, hands still raised and swiveling his body back and forth to make sure he addresses all four members of the band and Ron, “will be playing…” he pauses for dramatic effect, making sure everyone’s breath is bated, “…the Superbowl Half-Time Show!” He throws his hands down at the same time Chris goes berserk, jumping up from his seat and dropping his water. He and Josh howl in excitement, while Matt and I both simply drop our jaws in disbelief. All of a sudden I’m a mouth breather, and though I can’t see Jack’s reaction with him standing behind me, I can feel it. His body jerks back ever so slightly, and I can feel and hear his excited chuckle. He pulls one of his hands away to run through his hair, one of the habits he employs when he’s overwhelmed.

Apparently, this must be what was being discussed when I saw him chatting with Ron earlier, because Ron is standing there, cool as a cucumber with a very satisfied smile on his face.

“How the hell did you pull that off?” Matt asks, stepping towards him, his mouth still hanging open like mine.

Eli shrugs like it was no biggie. “Ran into the commissioner at a golf tournament; had a few cocktails after… I asked if there was anyone lined up, and sold you guys like you’re the cure to cancer. He made a few calls to the TV network, and within 48 hours, it was a done deal.” He tries to come off like he’s downplaying the whole scenario but he can’t hide the hint of smugness floating just beneath the surface. Hell, I would be smug too if I’d pulled this off.Wow.I can’t get over this. The Superbowl is a big deal, and normally, musical acts have to pay their dues for a lot longer than Turn it Up has. This is a blessing of unbelievable proportions. People already love them; their sold out shows speak for themselves. But this is a huge status bump, taking them to a whole new league. At least fifty million people watch the halftime show, which means their fan demographic could broaden.

I turn around to hug Jack, squeezing hard, silently letting him know I’m proud of him and that they all deserve it. He squeezes me back with his strong, protective arms and leans down to kiss me.

After the excitement dies down, the guys start making their way to the buses. There is an after-party at a nearby club tonight, and Chris, as always, is leading the charge. Each guy is giving Eli a hand shake or a backslap on their way out, with Jack and I bringing up the rear, my hand in his. Jack shakes Eli’s hand and thanks him as I stay silent, but smiling. They banter for a moment over this incredible news, and then Jack proceeds to lead me out of the room when Eli stops us.

“Oh Jack, Mayzie,” he begins, taking a step forward with his hand held out cautiously in front of him. “I’d like one more moment with the two of you if you don’t mind.”

Jack looks at me and pauses, before turning back to Eli and nodding. “Alright,” he says, calmly.

Eli puts his hands in his pockets and looks down, as if to gather his words before looking back up to address us both. “I couldn’t help but notice a little tension when you two left my house a couple of weeks ago,” he does a one shoulder shrug as if he’s reticent to be bringing this up. “I don’t know, I just got kind of an uneasy vibe when you took off.”

Jack and I are both quiet for a moment, and look from him to each other. He searches my face and I blink up at him, letting him know to go ahead. I don’t normally need Jack to be a caveman and speak for me, but this is delicate. Jack is the one with a working relationship with him, and I’m not sure which words to choose.

“Well,” Jack looks back to Eli and lets out a breath. “You made a comment that day that made Mayzie a bit uncomfortable. Me too, if I’m being honest. Something about calling her a kitten,” he shakes his head and continues, “and she saw your reflection in the window, giving her a look. Like maybe you liked what you saw.”God, this all sounds so stupid when Jack says it now. I’m mortified, biting my lip. A look of realization washes over Eli’s face as he tilts his head back and nods. He briefly closes his eyes, looking embarrassed. He turns to me and looks me right in the eye, and I see nothing but kindness and sincerity, shadowed with a hint of shame.

“Mayzie, I am so sorry,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Look, I know I have a reputation, and sadly, it’s one that I’ve earned. I know how I come across, but that’s beside the point. The thing is, I like to be friends with my clients. I hate being that stiff agent that keeps things all business. I like the idea of letting loose around them and having that business be on a friendly level.

He shakes his head and lets out another breath, still looking me right in the eye. He looks ashamed, and now I’m feeling bad. I feel like I’m blowing one little misunderstanding out of proportion. “But it’s not okay when it makes someone uncomfortable. I promise you, that’s never what I mean to do. I care sincerely about people being at ease around me. I feel this ability to relax and let go when I’m around you guys, and clearly it backfired this time. I wasn’t monitoring how I was conducting myself and that was wrong. I’m incredibly sorry, to both of you. I’m sorry for my words, and I’m sorry for the way I looked at you. That was not okay, whether I thought anyone saw it or not.”

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