Page 24 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

Sherrie tugged on my shoulder. “They haven’t played like this in years,” she said. “The way they’re all dorking around – they haven’t been like this since the first tour. This is amazing.” Her eyes were glittering with absolute joy, and it touched my heart to see how excited she was. “Alanna is going to freak. She’s way in the back somewhere.”

I couldn’t help but feel a little pang of smugness that Sherrie’s weird judgmental friend was missing the seats of a lifetime.

Jack caught my eye occasionally, and winked at me while he sang the line, “And I can never let her go, because she kisses just like me.”

At last night’s show, Jack seemed a little tense. Or perhaps he was just intense. Tonight he was relaxed and his energy flowed outward as if it were endless. I would have bet a dollar that even the people in the back row were getting chills from the way his gravelly voice scraped its way through each song with the level of passion one would expect from an award winning actor, not a rock singer. I was absolutely delighted, watching him in his element, relaxed and happy, doing what he loves.

How could anyone with this much self-confidence get nervous about doing a silly little interview, I wondered. There must be more to the story, but I’m not sure whether or not it’s my business to ask.

As the lights deepened occasionally, I was able to see the faces of the crowd around me. So many women were screaming for the band, mostly for Jack. With no idea how I measured up, or what his preferences were, I tried to put it out of my mind.

“Thank you so much, Toronto!” Jack yelled to the crowd. Most of the crowd screamed back to him. “This is gonna be our last song. Thanks so much for having us. You know how much we love it here.” He waited while the crowd hollered their approval. “We’ll be in Montreal next Saturday night, so if you have friends there, please give them a shout and tell them to drop in to say hello. They can call Marky for tickets – his number is 778-2...” Marky slapped his hand dramatically over Jack’s mouth, causing the audience to howl with laughter.

He twisted out of the grip and laughed. “Okay, fine. They can call Noodle’s Mom at 604...” This time Noodle came up from behind and smacked a hand over Jack’s mouth.

Kelly and Sherrie were laughing their heads off. “This is awesome,” Kelly said into my ear. “They’re really back to their old selves tonight.”

Jack dropped to his knees to both escape Noodle’s grip, and beg forgiveness. “My bandmates have just informed me that I’m a jerk,” he said, laughing while getting up. “Our last song is ‘Your Former Jerk Exes Aren’t Me.’ I’d like to dedicate this to all of the lovely women here tonight. You all deserve to be treated like the amazing ladies you are.”

Tate counted in and the band tore into a fast, driving song about them being pissed off that women waste their time with jerks, and wishing that they understood they should expect better treatment. If a female band was performing this song, it would be a girl-power anthem. But the fact that men were doing it was somehow just as powerful, from a new angle.

The second the last note rang out and the band left the stage, waving madly and throwing guitar picks, Kelly checked her phone. “I’m to take you side stage,” she said to me. Then to Sherrie, “I’m sorry I can’t take both of you.”

Sherrie shook her head. “That’s okay, I’m just thrilled that I got to see them twice in one week. Thank you so much for the amazing seats.” Kelly smiled warmly.

She took two lanyards out of her bag, slinging one around my neck, then hers, making sure the plastic laminate stating ‘VIP’ was facing outward. Then she grabbed my hand and dragged me quickly through the slowly exiting crowd. Through an almost hidden side door, she took me up a few stairs, to the area right beside the stage, nodding to security as we passed. I looked around, intrigued by the assortment of sound and lighting equipment, and the endless cables hanging coiled neatly on every available wall surface.

Jack ran toward me and gathered me up in a gigantic bear hug, whispering into my ear, “It was awesome having you right there, baby.” He was cranked on adrenaline, and practically vibrating. “That felt like such a good show!” he exclaimed.

“It really was amazing,” I said, as if I knew anything about rock and roll. “You guys seemed to be having an absolute blast.”

“We were.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but now wasn’t the time.

15. Backstage Chaos

Following Jack closely, he made his way through the throng of people who were somehow mashed into a wide hallway between the stage and the band’s private area. He high fived and smiled to everyone without really stopping, as the record company people seemed to be rushing them through. I saw two young girls in the crowd who were nearly in tears with excitement, then sadness as they realized the band was walking straight by. “Maybe he’ll see your tattoo online,” the black haired girl said, consoling her friend.

I stopped. “What’s the tattoo of?” I asked. The orange haired girl eagerly showed me her arm, where there were three rows of tidily inked lyrics, with Jack Vegas and the Vegas Mud Disco logo underneath. “Jack!” I hollered to the back of his head. He spun around, startled. “These girls need a photo with you. Check out this amazing tattoo.”

He came over, smiling at the girls, his eyes widening as he saw the beautifully inked art. “Wow,” he said softly, holding her arm as if it were a priceless artifact. “I can’t believe anyone would do this with my words.”

The orange haired girl was bravely holding back tears. “Your songs got me through a really terrible time when my brother died. Thank you.”

I saw Jack swallow hard, and just barely keep it together as he hugged her. Both girls had phones in their hands, but the black haired girl’s was the same as mine. “Let me take some photos,” I said to her, and she flipped it into camera mode for me.

I took several photos of the three of them together, and one with Jack’s face staring as if reading the lyrics on her trembling arm. Handing the phone back, I asked the black-haired girl to be sure to post these online and tag the band as quickly as possible.

“Sorry I have to run,” Jack said, hugging them both. “Thanks so much for making my day.”

He grabbed my arm and we rushed through the rest of the crowd to catch up with the band and team. Kelly flashed us a grin as we rejoined them. Once we were in a quieter hall, Jack slung his arm around my shoulders to hug me tightly as we walked. “I’m so glad you saw them. Wow, thank you.”

“I couldn’t let a girl who tattooed your lyrics on herself go home without a photo. It didn’t seem right.”

Kelly turned around to face us, walking backward. “Great instinct, Keira.” She held up her phone, where one of the pics was already online. “This is adorable. Good job.”

The band, team, and friends all trooped back to the dressing room, where there was a huge table full of fresh food, and several ice buckets filled with beer, vodka coolers, and hard cider.

Jack led me over to the corner with the couches, and asked, “Would you like a drink? I can have the caterers bring some white wine if you like.”

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