chickadee
New Yorker
Welcome back! I graduate tomorrow (yay!), so here's my present to you, another chapter, hehe. Hope you enjoy it. As usual, U2 don't belong to me and this story is a complete fabrication.
Love Rescue Me
Chapter 3
Cara didn’t care that her ticket cost more than it should have. She didn’t care that she was dressed totally inappropriately for a concert. She didn’t even care that her body was absolutely exhausted, not yet recovered from jet-lag. All she cared about was how close she was to the stage, closer than she’d expected, and how warmly familiar it felt to be there. Different country, same feelings. She hadn’t escaped.
Beside her, a red-headed girl a couple of inches shorter than her was fiddling with a professional-looking camera, her face a study in concentration. Around her neck dangled a laminated square that read, when Cara focused, ‘Press/Photography. Backstage Access.’ It didn’t take Cara long to decide that this girl was worth getting to know.
“That camera looks amazing,” she said, relieved when the girl looked up and smiled.
“Thanks,” she replied, patting the device. “It’s a bit old, but trusty. I wouldn’t be without it.”
Cara nodded, pretending to be interested before she moved onto more important matters. “So, um, are you a photographer?”
“Sort of. I am normally, I work for a paper, but tonight I’m writing the story, too. I feel much more important than I already am, so let me know if you can’t see the stage over my ego.”
Cara laughed along with her, and felt the time was right for an introduction. “I’m Cara.”
“Beth.” Something clicked on the camera, and Beth looked happy. “It’s working! I was worried there.” She glanced at Cara. “Do you live around here, then?”
“Yes. I do now, anyway. Just moved from Dublin. Flew over yesterday, actually.”
“Really? Wow!” Beth looked impressed. “That’s really brave. You must like it here.”
Cara smiled ruefully. “I’ve actually never been here before. This is my first visit. Big gamble, I know.” As she spoke, she realised she was enjoying the conversation beyond what advantage she might gain from it. She hadn’t realised until now that it was also female company she was missing, a friend to talk to and laugh with. “I just had to go, you know?”
“I understand. I wish I had the courage to do something like that. I only moved away from my parents’ house last year. I didn’t even move very far! So I admire you for doing that, it takes real guts.”
It boosted Cara’s confidence to hear those words, and she liked Beth a little more for it. “Thank you,” she replied. “I’m sure your moment will come, too. When you least expect it, probably.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then had to stop because it was time for the band to come on stage. Cara’s pulse thrummed as she waited for him to appear and make her weak, the way he always did, the reason she couldn’t stay away.
*
Bono walked to the stage, feeling in his bones that this was going to be a great night. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Edge, beside him. The two of them exchanged a ‘good luck’ smile, and then extended it to Adam and Larry, who were following. Adam was drinking a last-minute cup of coffee, while Larry was still a little pissed off at Bono over the whole Beth incident. Now, Bono knew, was not the time to make that situation worse, so he draped an arm across Larry’s shoulders and pulled him into an over-dramatic hug. “Love you, Lawrence,” he teased, to which they all laughed, even Larry. Tension suitably diffused, the four headed for their true home.
*
Jen smoothed the creases on a pair of tattered old jeans and hung them up on the rack. She had a feeling they belonged to Edge, and if she’d treated them with extra special care, that was merely a co-incidence. It was taking her a while to find her feet in this job, having been dropped in at the deep end so suddenly, but it had helped meeting the band. They’d all been nice in their own, individual ways – even Larry, despite his grumpiness that day – and Jen was almost certain they liked her. She couldn’t tell for sure; after all, she’d been wrong about that sort of thing before.
Edge, though. Something about his eyes intrigued her. She hadn’t stared or anything, because that would have been inappropriate, but even from glancing she could tell his eyes were really unusual. And he had so much hair; usually, Jen didn’t think much of men who grew their hair long, but on Edge it worked for some reason. To run her fingers through it…
Jen shook herself and sighed. This is stupid. She wondered why she was thinking these things, when it was clearly a waste of time. She was pretty certain he was married, and he was a good few years older than she was. And he was a rock star and she was a naïve little girl from a suburb of New York. What would they ever have in common?
Nothing, I guess. But it wouldn’t hurt to find out for sure.
*
Beth felt as if she was watching the greatest show on earth. Her heart hadn’t slowed from the minute the music started, and she’d been utterly swept away by the enormity of the singing, the playing, and the passion of the men in front of her. Mostly, though, she was in awe of Bono. He’d been on swaggering form all night, putting his all into every lyric and making Beth believe in what he was saying. She’d never before felt such a transcendent experience at a gig, as if everything that had gone before was grey, and U2 were technicolour. Grinning like a fool, she was trying to take as many photos as possible while also enjoying the concert. She’d forgotten that she should be keeping inconspicuous, and now all she wanted was for Bono to recognise her and beckon her up on stage.
She quickly had a favourite song. I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. It was beautiful, and Beth was sure she stopped breathing for most of it. Edge, Adam and Larry played brilliantly, and Bono sang with a passion that made Beth shiver.
During the break before encore, Beth looked over at Cara. She was staring at the currently-empty stage, eyes shining with what might have been tears, face pale as if with shock. Concerned, Beth touched her arm and asked if she was okay, making her start out of her trance.
“What? Oh, yes, thank you,” Cara replied.
“It’s an amazing show, isn’t it?” Beth enthused, wondering if she might be able to quote Cara in her article.
Cara nodded, her shiny brown hair nodding as well. “Yes, amazing. As usual.” She blinked at Beth. “Sorry, I’m just… I went to see them a few times back in Ireland and it reminded me of home.”
Beth nodded in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Do you think this’ll make a good story, then?”
“Definitely. They’re fantastic!”
They didn’t have time for any more talk, as the band had reappeared and were launching into One Tree Hill. It wasn’t until With or Without You that Beth started to cry, and one glance told her Cara was crying, too. Being so affected by this music was a new and brilliant experience, Beth realised, and she tried to absorb every remaining second before the show ended and she’d have to go back to real life.
As the crowd sang in unison to the refrain of 40, Beth did her best to take a final few shots of the band before they left the stage. Even when they were gone, everyone kept singing, including Cara, which surprised Beth because the other girl hadn’t made a sound during any of the other songs.
Eventually, the noise died down and those around Beth began picking up their things and shuffling towards exits, talking animatedly about what they’d seen and heard. Beth packed her camera in her bag somewhat reluctantly, wishing she could listen to U2 forever. Nothing had ever moved her the way Bono’s singing had.
She noticed Cara staring wistfully at the Press Pass around her neck and said, “I haven’t decided if I should use this or not. I suppose I ought to try for an interview, but…” She didn’t want to admit her reasons for being apprehensive about seeing the band up close.
“Yeah,” Cara murmured.
Beth opened her mouth to speak further when she was interrupted by a burly man who’d appeared in front of her, as if from nowhere.
“Are you Beth?” he barked, partly because it was still quite loud in the arena. She nodded, wondering who on earth this man was. “You’ve been invited backstage to meet the band.”
Beth had to work very hard to keep her jaw from dropping. “Me? Are you sure? What do you mean?” she blabbed, aware of Cara watching her.
“They requested me to bring you backstage. Said it was important.” The man eyed her as if suspicious of why this should be happening to her. Beth almost confessed she was as ignorant as he, but instead what she said was, “Um, okay, I guess I’d better go, then.” She grabbed her jacket and quickly checked to make sure she had all of her possessions before climbing over the barrier. Her Press Pass clattered against it as she landed on the other side; she took it off and, in a split second decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret, handed it to a gobsmacked Cara.
“Here, take it,” she said. “Have fun!” With barely a wave, she left in the company of the burly man, who didn’t seem the kind to entertain small talk. That left Beth entirely free to chew her bottom lip and fret over what this meeting was about. For one thing she didn’t understand how anyone from the band could have known she was there – it was Alex’s pass she used, after all. Then there was the nagging worry that this was all because she printed her story. Maybe they were going to report her for unprofessional conduct. She tried not to imagine the look that would cross Alex’s face if that came about.
Lost in thought as she was, it took her a couple of moments to realise she was now backstage, waiting by a door, while the burly man went inside and barked words in a burly-man tone. Apparently, he talked like that whether there was noise or not.
He came back out and held the door open without a word. Beth glanced at him before taking a deep breath and walking into the room, which turned out to be a dressing room. And there, sitting in the corner, a towel around his shoulders, was Bono.
*
Cara clutched the laminated pass tightly to her chest as she fought past the hoard of concert-goers who were heading in the opposite direction from her. She still couldn’t believe she had it, and wished she knew Beth’s phone number so she could thank her. Now to get to the stage door…
It had been surprisingly easy to push her doubts to the back of her mind, and on some level Cara knew what she was doing was probably foolish, and that she’d probably regret it. That didn’t matter. There was no way she could leave now she had a dream ticket in her hands. It’s a sign, it’s got to be.
A security man was waiting at the door to make sure no one got in who wasn’t supposed to. Cara was relieved to see it wasn’t the same man who’d led Beth away, because then he’d know she wasn’t genuine. As it was, she had no problems getting in, especially once she fluttered her eyelashes at the man. An old trick, but one that served her well.
Once inside, she didn’t have a clue which way to go. It was fairly busy, with people (crew, she assumed) milling about, but there was nobody she recognised. She figured she’d just have to explore further, and slipped the pass over her head before striding down the corridor, trying to act as if she had every right to be backstage at a U2 gig. There’d been times in the past when she had had every right, so really it was just a matter of remembering. Adjusting her skirt and holding her head high, she headed for the dressing rooms.
*
Larry was ready to go back to the hotel when he stepped out of his dressing room, showered and changed, but what he saw in the corridor made him stop in his tracks. A combination of disbelief and irritation flared in him when his eyes alighted on the source of his reaction.
“It can’t be… Not her,” he muttered to himself. He took two steps forward, thought better of it, and turned to walk away when he caught sight of who was in the next dressing room with Bono. That combination grew stronger, doubled, until Larry was so angry he nearly stamped his foot.
“And her!” He settled for shaking his head, vowing there and then to keep out of whatever was going on with his bandmates, because at times like these they drove him crazy. They’re so fucking stupid and they never listen to me. Well, they can get burned on their own time.
He made sure his snort of derision was loud enough for both women – and Bono – to hear before storming out of the arena.
*
“Close the door, Beth, and have a seat.”
Beth obeyed, trying not to let Bono see that her hands were shaking. She was certain he was about to take her to task over the newspaper article, and she knew she was going to cry. After witnessing Bono on stage, the last thing Beth wanted to do was leave a bad impression. She wanted to talk to him, spend time with him, study him; he was utterly fascinating.
If I’m going to make amends, I have to get in there first.
“I’m sorry,” she said to her hands, once she was sitting across from him in the compact room. She was all too aware of his nearness.
“What for?”
Beth’s head shot up, wondering if he was determined to make this worse and drag the apology out of her, but instead of anger in Bono’s eyes, she saw confusion.
“For, I mean, what I wrote,” she said, rushing through the words. “I know it was wrong of me, but --”
A warm chuckle on Bono’s part. “That’s not what this is about. Well, it is, but not in the way you think it is. I’m not after an apology.”
“Oh.” Beth stilled, unsure what to say next, or where this was going. “Okay.”
Bono leaned forward; his hair was tied back and messy, and he was still sweating from his exertions on stage, but Beth couldn’t help thinking she’d never met anyone more attractive in her life.
“I loved what you wrote, and I think you’re very talented,” he said in a low voice. “Are you happy in your job?”
That wasn’t a question she’d expected, and it made her think. “Um, I suppose…” she began, but Bono cut her off gently.
“Sorry, that was rude of me. I did have a reason for asking, though. We – the band – we’ve been considering getting someone to write a tour book for us. You know, life on the road, behind-the-scenes stuff, funny little anecdotes, that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Beth nodded, realising it was time she sounded intelligent, given that Bono seemed to think she was. “An insight into one of the world’s biggest rock bands.”
Bono smiled; it made Beth feel warm from the inside out. “You’re too kind,” he teased, and she couldn’t stop herself smiling back. “You understand what we’re looking for?” he added.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.” He leaned a tiny bit further forward, closing the gap between them to mere inches. Beth held her breath. “Because I want you to write it for us.”
A beat. Two. Beth gaped, remembering too late to close her mouth, and stood up. “You… what? Are you serious?” In her shock she’d forgotten who she was talking to, but Bono didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked highly amused.
“Yes, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?” He stood, too, and put a hand on her shoulder. Beth felt it as if he was touching her bare skin, and it made her shiver. He was looking right at her, holding her captive before him. There was no need; she knew she wasn’t going anywhere right then.
“I, I don’t know,” she stammered, trying to think of reasons to decline. My job, my flat, Alex… God, none of those are good reasons, quick, think of something else. But she couldn’t. “You don’t even know me. That article might be a one-off. I could write horrible things about you.”
Bono grinned. “And would you?”
Despite herself, Beth laughed. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t think that would be possible.”
“So,” he continued hopefully, “is that a yes?”
Is this the maddest thing ever? Yes, I think it might be. And possibly the most wonderful, too.
Beth knew she was stunned, and she knew there was a lot to consider. But Bono was standing in front of her, watching her, asking her to come on tour with them, and she knew, also, that she wasn’t about to turn him down.
“Yes,” she replied, offering him a smile. “I’ll do it.”
*
Adam drank from the bottle before passing it to the woman sitting next to him. On him, more accurately. He didn’t know her name and he’d never seen her before today, but she’d been outside the hotel earlier and out of desperation he’d told her to come to his dressing room after the show. It wasn’t the best way to get to know someone, and in all likelihood he wouldn’t really get to know her at all, but under the circumstances it didn’t really matter. He was lonely and horny and she was gorgeous. As long as nobody got hurt, where was the problem?
“Come on,” he whispered in her ear, as she wriggled on his lap. “Let’s go to bed.” He grabbed her hand, got to his feet and pulled her out of the door, both of them laughing. He hoped Larry wouldn’t be hanging around when they got back, because he didn’t need a lecture the next morning. He wanted to enjoy himself.
They stopped in the corridor so he could light a cigarette, and the girl wrapped her arms around him, practically wearing him, licking his ear and running a hand across his waist. He muttered something generically filthy to her and she squealed. They turned, and that was when Adam saw her.
Standing about ten feet away, she was as beautiful as he remembered. Her once-long brown hair was now brushing her shoulders, and her face was a little thinner, as if she hadn’t been eating well. Her red lips and dark eyes all conjured to Adam’s mind memories of long, passionate nights, and his pulse raced in response.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Cara beat him to it.
“Hello, Adam. How’ve you been?”
To be continued...
Love Rescue Me
Chapter 3
Cara didn’t care that her ticket cost more than it should have. She didn’t care that she was dressed totally inappropriately for a concert. She didn’t even care that her body was absolutely exhausted, not yet recovered from jet-lag. All she cared about was how close she was to the stage, closer than she’d expected, and how warmly familiar it felt to be there. Different country, same feelings. She hadn’t escaped.
Beside her, a red-headed girl a couple of inches shorter than her was fiddling with a professional-looking camera, her face a study in concentration. Around her neck dangled a laminated square that read, when Cara focused, ‘Press/Photography. Backstage Access.’ It didn’t take Cara long to decide that this girl was worth getting to know.
“That camera looks amazing,” she said, relieved when the girl looked up and smiled.
“Thanks,” she replied, patting the device. “It’s a bit old, but trusty. I wouldn’t be without it.”
Cara nodded, pretending to be interested before she moved onto more important matters. “So, um, are you a photographer?”
“Sort of. I am normally, I work for a paper, but tonight I’m writing the story, too. I feel much more important than I already am, so let me know if you can’t see the stage over my ego.”
Cara laughed along with her, and felt the time was right for an introduction. “I’m Cara.”
“Beth.” Something clicked on the camera, and Beth looked happy. “It’s working! I was worried there.” She glanced at Cara. “Do you live around here, then?”
“Yes. I do now, anyway. Just moved from Dublin. Flew over yesterday, actually.”
“Really? Wow!” Beth looked impressed. “That’s really brave. You must like it here.”
Cara smiled ruefully. “I’ve actually never been here before. This is my first visit. Big gamble, I know.” As she spoke, she realised she was enjoying the conversation beyond what advantage she might gain from it. She hadn’t realised until now that it was also female company she was missing, a friend to talk to and laugh with. “I just had to go, you know?”
“I understand. I wish I had the courage to do something like that. I only moved away from my parents’ house last year. I didn’t even move very far! So I admire you for doing that, it takes real guts.”
It boosted Cara’s confidence to hear those words, and she liked Beth a little more for it. “Thank you,” she replied. “I’m sure your moment will come, too. When you least expect it, probably.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then had to stop because it was time for the band to come on stage. Cara’s pulse thrummed as she waited for him to appear and make her weak, the way he always did, the reason she couldn’t stay away.
*
Bono walked to the stage, feeling in his bones that this was going to be a great night. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Edge, beside him. The two of them exchanged a ‘good luck’ smile, and then extended it to Adam and Larry, who were following. Adam was drinking a last-minute cup of coffee, while Larry was still a little pissed off at Bono over the whole Beth incident. Now, Bono knew, was not the time to make that situation worse, so he draped an arm across Larry’s shoulders and pulled him into an over-dramatic hug. “Love you, Lawrence,” he teased, to which they all laughed, even Larry. Tension suitably diffused, the four headed for their true home.
*
Jen smoothed the creases on a pair of tattered old jeans and hung them up on the rack. She had a feeling they belonged to Edge, and if she’d treated them with extra special care, that was merely a co-incidence. It was taking her a while to find her feet in this job, having been dropped in at the deep end so suddenly, but it had helped meeting the band. They’d all been nice in their own, individual ways – even Larry, despite his grumpiness that day – and Jen was almost certain they liked her. She couldn’t tell for sure; after all, she’d been wrong about that sort of thing before.
Edge, though. Something about his eyes intrigued her. She hadn’t stared or anything, because that would have been inappropriate, but even from glancing she could tell his eyes were really unusual. And he had so much hair; usually, Jen didn’t think much of men who grew their hair long, but on Edge it worked for some reason. To run her fingers through it…
Jen shook herself and sighed. This is stupid. She wondered why she was thinking these things, when it was clearly a waste of time. She was pretty certain he was married, and he was a good few years older than she was. And he was a rock star and she was a naïve little girl from a suburb of New York. What would they ever have in common?
Nothing, I guess. But it wouldn’t hurt to find out for sure.
*
Beth felt as if she was watching the greatest show on earth. Her heart hadn’t slowed from the minute the music started, and she’d been utterly swept away by the enormity of the singing, the playing, and the passion of the men in front of her. Mostly, though, she was in awe of Bono. He’d been on swaggering form all night, putting his all into every lyric and making Beth believe in what he was saying. She’d never before felt such a transcendent experience at a gig, as if everything that had gone before was grey, and U2 were technicolour. Grinning like a fool, she was trying to take as many photos as possible while also enjoying the concert. She’d forgotten that she should be keeping inconspicuous, and now all she wanted was for Bono to recognise her and beckon her up on stage.
She quickly had a favourite song. I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. It was beautiful, and Beth was sure she stopped breathing for most of it. Edge, Adam and Larry played brilliantly, and Bono sang with a passion that made Beth shiver.
During the break before encore, Beth looked over at Cara. She was staring at the currently-empty stage, eyes shining with what might have been tears, face pale as if with shock. Concerned, Beth touched her arm and asked if she was okay, making her start out of her trance.
“What? Oh, yes, thank you,” Cara replied.
“It’s an amazing show, isn’t it?” Beth enthused, wondering if she might be able to quote Cara in her article.
Cara nodded, her shiny brown hair nodding as well. “Yes, amazing. As usual.” She blinked at Beth. “Sorry, I’m just… I went to see them a few times back in Ireland and it reminded me of home.”
Beth nodded in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Do you think this’ll make a good story, then?”
“Definitely. They’re fantastic!”
They didn’t have time for any more talk, as the band had reappeared and were launching into One Tree Hill. It wasn’t until With or Without You that Beth started to cry, and one glance told her Cara was crying, too. Being so affected by this music was a new and brilliant experience, Beth realised, and she tried to absorb every remaining second before the show ended and she’d have to go back to real life.
As the crowd sang in unison to the refrain of 40, Beth did her best to take a final few shots of the band before they left the stage. Even when they were gone, everyone kept singing, including Cara, which surprised Beth because the other girl hadn’t made a sound during any of the other songs.
Eventually, the noise died down and those around Beth began picking up their things and shuffling towards exits, talking animatedly about what they’d seen and heard. Beth packed her camera in her bag somewhat reluctantly, wishing she could listen to U2 forever. Nothing had ever moved her the way Bono’s singing had.
She noticed Cara staring wistfully at the Press Pass around her neck and said, “I haven’t decided if I should use this or not. I suppose I ought to try for an interview, but…” She didn’t want to admit her reasons for being apprehensive about seeing the band up close.
“Yeah,” Cara murmured.
Beth opened her mouth to speak further when she was interrupted by a burly man who’d appeared in front of her, as if from nowhere.
“Are you Beth?” he barked, partly because it was still quite loud in the arena. She nodded, wondering who on earth this man was. “You’ve been invited backstage to meet the band.”
Beth had to work very hard to keep her jaw from dropping. “Me? Are you sure? What do you mean?” she blabbed, aware of Cara watching her.
“They requested me to bring you backstage. Said it was important.” The man eyed her as if suspicious of why this should be happening to her. Beth almost confessed she was as ignorant as he, but instead what she said was, “Um, okay, I guess I’d better go, then.” She grabbed her jacket and quickly checked to make sure she had all of her possessions before climbing over the barrier. Her Press Pass clattered against it as she landed on the other side; she took it off and, in a split second decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret, handed it to a gobsmacked Cara.
“Here, take it,” she said. “Have fun!” With barely a wave, she left in the company of the burly man, who didn’t seem the kind to entertain small talk. That left Beth entirely free to chew her bottom lip and fret over what this meeting was about. For one thing she didn’t understand how anyone from the band could have known she was there – it was Alex’s pass she used, after all. Then there was the nagging worry that this was all because she printed her story. Maybe they were going to report her for unprofessional conduct. She tried not to imagine the look that would cross Alex’s face if that came about.
Lost in thought as she was, it took her a couple of moments to realise she was now backstage, waiting by a door, while the burly man went inside and barked words in a burly-man tone. Apparently, he talked like that whether there was noise or not.
He came back out and held the door open without a word. Beth glanced at him before taking a deep breath and walking into the room, which turned out to be a dressing room. And there, sitting in the corner, a towel around his shoulders, was Bono.
*
Cara clutched the laminated pass tightly to her chest as she fought past the hoard of concert-goers who were heading in the opposite direction from her. She still couldn’t believe she had it, and wished she knew Beth’s phone number so she could thank her. Now to get to the stage door…
It had been surprisingly easy to push her doubts to the back of her mind, and on some level Cara knew what she was doing was probably foolish, and that she’d probably regret it. That didn’t matter. There was no way she could leave now she had a dream ticket in her hands. It’s a sign, it’s got to be.
A security man was waiting at the door to make sure no one got in who wasn’t supposed to. Cara was relieved to see it wasn’t the same man who’d led Beth away, because then he’d know she wasn’t genuine. As it was, she had no problems getting in, especially once she fluttered her eyelashes at the man. An old trick, but one that served her well.
Once inside, she didn’t have a clue which way to go. It was fairly busy, with people (crew, she assumed) milling about, but there was nobody she recognised. She figured she’d just have to explore further, and slipped the pass over her head before striding down the corridor, trying to act as if she had every right to be backstage at a U2 gig. There’d been times in the past when she had had every right, so really it was just a matter of remembering. Adjusting her skirt and holding her head high, she headed for the dressing rooms.
*
Larry was ready to go back to the hotel when he stepped out of his dressing room, showered and changed, but what he saw in the corridor made him stop in his tracks. A combination of disbelief and irritation flared in him when his eyes alighted on the source of his reaction.
“It can’t be… Not her,” he muttered to himself. He took two steps forward, thought better of it, and turned to walk away when he caught sight of who was in the next dressing room with Bono. That combination grew stronger, doubled, until Larry was so angry he nearly stamped his foot.
“And her!” He settled for shaking his head, vowing there and then to keep out of whatever was going on with his bandmates, because at times like these they drove him crazy. They’re so fucking stupid and they never listen to me. Well, they can get burned on their own time.
He made sure his snort of derision was loud enough for both women – and Bono – to hear before storming out of the arena.
*
“Close the door, Beth, and have a seat.”
Beth obeyed, trying not to let Bono see that her hands were shaking. She was certain he was about to take her to task over the newspaper article, and she knew she was going to cry. After witnessing Bono on stage, the last thing Beth wanted to do was leave a bad impression. She wanted to talk to him, spend time with him, study him; he was utterly fascinating.
If I’m going to make amends, I have to get in there first.
“I’m sorry,” she said to her hands, once she was sitting across from him in the compact room. She was all too aware of his nearness.
“What for?”
Beth’s head shot up, wondering if he was determined to make this worse and drag the apology out of her, but instead of anger in Bono’s eyes, she saw confusion.
“For, I mean, what I wrote,” she said, rushing through the words. “I know it was wrong of me, but --”
A warm chuckle on Bono’s part. “That’s not what this is about. Well, it is, but not in the way you think it is. I’m not after an apology.”
“Oh.” Beth stilled, unsure what to say next, or where this was going. “Okay.”
Bono leaned forward; his hair was tied back and messy, and he was still sweating from his exertions on stage, but Beth couldn’t help thinking she’d never met anyone more attractive in her life.
“I loved what you wrote, and I think you’re very talented,” he said in a low voice. “Are you happy in your job?”
That wasn’t a question she’d expected, and it made her think. “Um, I suppose…” she began, but Bono cut her off gently.
“Sorry, that was rude of me. I did have a reason for asking, though. We – the band – we’ve been considering getting someone to write a tour book for us. You know, life on the road, behind-the-scenes stuff, funny little anecdotes, that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Beth nodded, realising it was time she sounded intelligent, given that Bono seemed to think she was. “An insight into one of the world’s biggest rock bands.”
Bono smiled; it made Beth feel warm from the inside out. “You’re too kind,” he teased, and she couldn’t stop herself smiling back. “You understand what we’re looking for?” he added.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.” He leaned a tiny bit further forward, closing the gap between them to mere inches. Beth held her breath. “Because I want you to write it for us.”
A beat. Two. Beth gaped, remembering too late to close her mouth, and stood up. “You… what? Are you serious?” In her shock she’d forgotten who she was talking to, but Bono didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked highly amused.
“Yes, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?” He stood, too, and put a hand on her shoulder. Beth felt it as if he was touching her bare skin, and it made her shiver. He was looking right at her, holding her captive before him. There was no need; she knew she wasn’t going anywhere right then.
“I, I don’t know,” she stammered, trying to think of reasons to decline. My job, my flat, Alex… God, none of those are good reasons, quick, think of something else. But she couldn’t. “You don’t even know me. That article might be a one-off. I could write horrible things about you.”
Bono grinned. “And would you?”
Despite herself, Beth laughed. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t think that would be possible.”
“So,” he continued hopefully, “is that a yes?”
Is this the maddest thing ever? Yes, I think it might be. And possibly the most wonderful, too.
Beth knew she was stunned, and she knew there was a lot to consider. But Bono was standing in front of her, watching her, asking her to come on tour with them, and she knew, also, that she wasn’t about to turn him down.
“Yes,” she replied, offering him a smile. “I’ll do it.”
*
Adam drank from the bottle before passing it to the woman sitting next to him. On him, more accurately. He didn’t know her name and he’d never seen her before today, but she’d been outside the hotel earlier and out of desperation he’d told her to come to his dressing room after the show. It wasn’t the best way to get to know someone, and in all likelihood he wouldn’t really get to know her at all, but under the circumstances it didn’t really matter. He was lonely and horny and she was gorgeous. As long as nobody got hurt, where was the problem?
“Come on,” he whispered in her ear, as she wriggled on his lap. “Let’s go to bed.” He grabbed her hand, got to his feet and pulled her out of the door, both of them laughing. He hoped Larry wouldn’t be hanging around when they got back, because he didn’t need a lecture the next morning. He wanted to enjoy himself.
They stopped in the corridor so he could light a cigarette, and the girl wrapped her arms around him, practically wearing him, licking his ear and running a hand across his waist. He muttered something generically filthy to her and she squealed. They turned, and that was when Adam saw her.
Standing about ten feet away, she was as beautiful as he remembered. Her once-long brown hair was now brushing her shoulders, and her face was a little thinner, as if she hadn’t been eating well. Her red lips and dark eyes all conjured to Adam’s mind memories of long, passionate nights, and his pulse raced in response.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Cara beat him to it.
“Hello, Adam. How’ve you been?”
To be continued...
Last edited:
im liking this alot its comming together nicely !
congrats on your graduation, mine is july the 2nd 
