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“What’re you getting?” I ask him casually. I haven’t even looked at the menu yet because I’ve been too focused on the garlic knots. I want to go to the gym later, but after this feast, that might not happen.
“Literally everything sounds good,” Ash sighs.
I open my menu and opt for their signature gnocchi immediately.
Our waitress comes up to our table. She has only been by twice to deliver us our drinks and our appetizer, but I know it’s taking all of her willpower not to come over more often or ask us for a picture or an autograph. I already have plans to leave her a nice tip and whatever else. Food service isn’t easy, and she’s been amazing.
The girls usually crush on Ash more than me, but I have a good following, too. Sometimes they crush on both of us. We’re used to it by now. It’s flattering so long as they aren’t into us in a creepy way.
If only they knew what I like. Whatwelike.
I notice that the hostess—Cherie—is all eyes for me. She comes over and refills my water, even though I’ve only taken a couple of sips.
“Are y'all ready to order?” she asks with a wide smile.
“Can I have one more minute?” Trish asks.
“Sure thing, I’ll come back in a few.”
Before she leaves, I catch her lightly by the elbow. She looks down at me from where she stands, her large brown eyes wide.
“While they decide, did you want to get a picture? Only if you want to. You’ve been wonderful. Thank you for letting us come in early,” I say.
Ash knocks his knee with mine underneath the table. He loves when I sweet talk.
She grows flustered immediately, and if I liked women, I think it would’ve been incredibly sexy. “I—um, I don’t know if I’m allowed? I need to go ask—”
I cut her off. “It’s fine. If your boss asks, we’re the ones who offered, after all.”
Ash smirks up at her. “We’re happy to take a pic with the real fans.” He winks, and her cheeks turn cherry red.
The next few minutes are spent taking pictures with Cherie, who comes out of her shy demeanor once she sees that Ash and I are just a couple of goofballs who happened to make it big in a band and became famous. We take turns posing with her alone, and then we both get a picture with her. Finally, we have the rest of the group join for one last shot. Cherie takes everyone’s orders with a sunshiney glow on her face and then makes her way back into the kitchen.
“You two are generous today.” Mike cocks an eyebrow at us.
If only he knew why.
Not that we aren’t typically kind and generous to our fans. Quite the opposite, actually. But it was a little out of character for us to takesomany pictures. Either way, Cherie is sweet, and she apparently came in early just to wait on us.
We cherish the delicious food once our entrees arrive, knowing that we won’t be eating for a long while—not until the show is over. It’s funny how all sense of need goes away when I’m on stage. If I’m thirsty or hungry or tired, well, it doesn’t usually kick in until at least an hour after we’ve exited the stage.
Once we’re done, we hop back onto the bus and almost pass out in our collective food comas. I left Cherie a two-hundred-dollar tip in cash on the table. As we drive to our hotel for the night, I wonder if she’ll be at the concert. I wish I would’ve asked if she had tickets, but after our photo-op, I got lost in the food and in Brian and Sean’s bad jokes. Ash and I might be the ones fucking, but those two act like an old married couple, and it never ceases to make me grin.
The concert tonight is at the Long Center. Our hotel is only a couple of blocks away, and it’s a giant skyscraper of a thing. Sometimes I wish Mike would just rent us a cheap Airbnb for the night, but he likes the privacy of getting away from us after the concerts after long nights. I never understood why he decided to be a band manager, but he’s damn good at his job for someone so introvertive.
Instead of the whole top floor, he got us a set of rooms on one side of the top level. Apparently, there are a few high-profile people staying on the other side of us, though Mike won’t tell us who.
“Is it Elton John?” Sean begs as we pull up to the hotel. “Oh! Dolly Parton?” He scratches the scruff on his chin and pretends to be thinking hard. “It’s the Doors, isn’t it?” he gasps.
Mike huffs a sigh and rolls his eyes so hard, I think his eyeballs might fall out. “Sean, for the love of God, shut up.”
Sean smirks. “I bet you it reallyisElton John. Love that guy.” Sean winks at Mike, and Mike pretends to look out of the window.
We’re all sitting at the front of the bus, waiting for it to park. Well, everyone except for Ash, who must have fallen asleep on the couch.
“Remember the first time we met Elton? At that award show in, like, 2015?” Brian asks. As if any of us could ever forget. “What an awesome person.”
Trish looks just about as thrilled as Mike, with her eyes glaring at Brian and Sean. The bus stops, and Mike hauls ass to go check-in for us. We know the drill. We stay on the bus until he comes back. As much as we love our fans, we still like to get checked in and ready for the show in peace. We always travel with a couple of bodyguards who accompany us almost everywhere. We only have two for now, and they’re in a car behind us. Sometimes I think it’s overkill until I remember the one fan who snuck behind us while we walked into a restaurant one evening several years ago and all but jumped on me, trying to get a taste of my neck before one of the guards ripped her off me.
