Phoebe
M orning yoga had been the perfect way to relax after the exhibit. Even Lena enjoyed herself, but that might have been the three shots in her coffee that kept her awake during the asanas. But now, ’s trip was proving to be anything but relaxing. The flight to Munich had been delayed for two hours. The woman sitting beside her stank of old cigarettes, and she desperately wanted to jump in a hot shower and freshen up once they landed. But of course, her suitcase was the last out.
The traffic wasn’t too bad, but the hotel had no record of her last-minute booking. By the time she made it to her room, washed off the smell of airplane and changed into a cute outfit, she was out of time.
In the back of the taxi, she tried to focus on her excitement, on how happy Cillian would be to see her, instead of having to wait three weeks until the band travelled back to Dublin. Unfortunately, by the time arrived, stadium security had shut the doors. She groaned as she heard the show commencing inside.
Her general admission ticket was useless.
“Sorry, miss, but the concert has already started. Please move along.” The security guard dismissed in her thick German accent. “You can join the other fans and press gathered at the side entrance hoping to catch the band afterward.”
The two hulking security guards gave her a weird look when she didn’t move along.
“I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m friends with the band,” pleaded, rocking on the heels of her favourite silver knee-high boots to keep warm. “I’m sure everyone says that trying to get in, but please call Anita Scott, their manager. She’ll let you know who I am,” she rambled on, hoping she wouldn’t be escorted away like any other deranged fan trying to get in. She didn’t want to use the ‘my boyfriend is in the band’ excuse, but she couldn’t wait out here all night. Wearing a short white dress, even with long flowing sleeves, in Munich in February had been a seriously stupid idea. However, she hadn’t expected to stand outside the venue very long, or for the temperature to drop even further. With all her bad luck, wondered if she should have stayed at home.
“Do you have a backstage or visitor’s pass?” the security guard asked, barely looking at her.
“No, I wanted to surprise the band.” Damn it—why hadn’t she called Anita ahead of time? The whole plan had been stupid. She’d planned on texting Nick to sneak her in so Cillian wouldn’t find out, but he was already on stage.
“Who are you exactly? Do you have some ID?”
“Cillian Hunt’s girlfriend, and Nick Fletcher’s sister?” she informed them quietly. Judging from their bemused faces, they didn’t believe her.
The security guard rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you think you are. However, all friends and family are required to have a security pass. We need to keep your boyfriend safe.”
“I wanted to surprise them. I didn’t plan on getting here so late. Hold on, I have my ID.” reached into her tote bag for her purse, but winced when she realised she’d left it in the hotel.
“I forgot my ID, but I can still prove who I am.” She scrolled through her Artgram profile and held up her phone to show the guards multiple pictures of her with her brother and Cillian.
“Anyone can doctor some photos. You can leave the premises, or you can go round to where the other ‘girlfriends’ are waiting to catch a glimpse.” The other guard, a bald giant, shook his head. She wanted to smack his condescending face, but her phone ringing startled her. frowned, wondering why Anita was calling her.
“? What are you doing arguing with security?” The echo of the concert came through the phone.
glanced around at the fans gathered outside, but there was no sign of Anita. How did she know she was here?
“Can you help me? Security won’t let me in without a pass,” pleaded quietly, as Security glared at her.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Anita said, and hung up. She wasn’t the type for small talk.
Minutes later, the staff door by the entrance swung open.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Anita panted, clearly having rushed out. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming?
“Told you so.” winked at the stunned security guards. Though she felt bad for causing trouble.
“She doesn’t have an access pass,” the female guard informed Anita flatly.
“She’s family. She doesn’t need a pass.” Anita ushered her through the performers’ entrance without a second look at the guards.
“Hurry up! I haven’t got all night.” Anita marched ahead of her through the concrete maze beneath the stadium. The sound of the band was muffled by the thick concrete walls and long, echoing hallways.
“How’d you know I was here?” asked, weaving her way past the staff.
“It’s my job to know,” Anita said, focusing on the next urgent matter on her phone.
didn’t know how Anita could walk so fast in her towering heels. There was about ten years between them, and often felt intimidated by B.O.A.’s manager’s presence. One wrong look from Anita’s dark eyes might turn anyone to stone. Then again, she had no choice but to be ruthless in the music industry.
“Some fans outside were live streaming your interaction with security on a fansite,” Anita eventually explained. “‘ Cillian Hunt’s girlfriend banned from concert ’ came up on my keyword alerts.”
The band saying their goodbyes came through the speakers, and the crowds’ cheering followed.
“I didn’t think anyone would notice me. Sorry for adding to the rumour mill.” smiled in disbelief at the band’s success. She remembered when they used to perform at their school’s cringey talent shows; now they had millions of fans across the world.
Anita glanced at her over her shoulder. “How many women with short lilac hair and a nose piercing do you think are dating the lead singer?”
imagined tomorrow’s headlines about their alleged breakup, and her trying desperately to get into the concert.
“Sorry,” was the only thing to say.
“Life would be dull without a fire or two to put out,” Anita quipped as she smoothed a hand over her slicked-back ponytail.
“So much for my surprise trip, the world already knows before Cillian,” said. “Next time I’ll call ahead and spare everyone some trouble.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Anita’s pace didn’t ease up. “Between interviews and signings, I don’t have a minute to play ‘hunt down ’.”
She stopped as they reached a fork in the corridor; one way went on to the stadium stage, the other to the dressing rooms. nearly crashed into her back; she wasn’t as graceful as Anita.
“Can you find your way to the guys? They should be off stage by now—and please remind them to be in the press room in thirty minutes. I’ve got to make a few calls to make sure the headlines aren’t about you and security outside instead of tonight’s concert.” Anita didn’t look up from her phone or wait for a response before she walked off towards a group of people waiting for her.
Passing doors marked ‘Maintenance’, ‘Security’ and ‘Equipment’, dodged out of the way of a cardboard cut-out of August, the band’s bassist. She reached the dressing room doors with their taped-on signs showing the band members’ names: Cillian, Nick, August and Axel, the drummer, a late addition to the band after the original drummer had decided fame wasn’t for him.
She heard Nick’s laughter, the same as their dad’s, echoing down the hall. She thought about going to say hi, but stopped short at Cillian’s door. His post-show routine dictated that he went to his dressing room to decompress before heading to meet the press or fans, so she knew he’d be inside. Checking her lipstick in her phone camera, she tried to conceal her excitement. She took a deep breath, placed her hand on the doorknob and twisted.
“SURPRISE!”
Time stood still, and ice coursed through her veins. Her smiled disappeared as she tried to process what she was seeing. Scream, cry or throw up? Her body couldn’t quite make up its mind.
The smell of cigarettes and other smokable substances didn’t help settle her rolling stomach. How out of their minds are they that they didn’t even notice me entering the room? Judging from the half empty bottles of whiskey and champagne: very.
Without thinking, stepped into the room, grabbed a vase of sunflowers by the door and threw them at the dresser beside the half-naked pair fucking on the couch, still completely unaware of her presence. The smash of the mirror and the shattering of the vase seemed to do the trick.
“Who the fuck are you?” Cillian snapped, his voice hoarse after hours of singing. It was the venom in his tone, though, that made him sound completely unrecognisable.
had never seen such anger in his eyes as when they met hers. Everything moved in slow motion. His bleached hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, the smile she’d loved so much punctured by two new lip piercings. He didn’t even look like the man she’d agreed to marry only a month ago.
“Fuck! ? What the fuck are you doing here?” Cillian quickly straightened up and zipped his jeans as though he hadn’t been caught in the act. An image she wouldn’t be able to scrub from her mind.
She wanted to laugh—he made it sound like she was intruding.
The woman didn’t show any remorse, glaring at her unashamedly and accusingly. recognised her pitch-black hair and smoky eyes: the band’s make-up artist, Helen. They’d met half a dozen times; she’d always been so friendly. Maybe her cheery mood had been because she was getting laid—her lack of reaction led to believe this wasn’t the first time they’d been walked in on.
The desire to throw up returned as she listened to the blood pumping in her ears. If she stayed a moment longer, she wasn’t sure who she’d strangle first. Cillian called her name, but it sounded like he was underwater.
She forced herself through the fluorescent corridors, back the way she’d come. None of the staff paid her any mind. They couldn’t see that she’d been stabbed in the heart.
Reaching the staff entrance, she heard a rush of footsteps behind her. Someone’s rough hand grabbed her elbow and pulled her away from the exit. Rage surged through her.
“Cillian, let go of me!” She didn’t care who heard. Hell, she hoped they did. She hoped they knew what a disgusting, pathetic cheat he was. Then it hit her: did everyone know? They’d worked with the same make-up artist for the whole tour. Months!
Her thoughts were silenced when she realised it wasn’t Cillian who had a hold of her. Axel’s startled eyes searched hers; he stood so close she was forced to stare up at him. It was hard to mistake the two, Axel was taller than Cillian, and older. His breath was heavy—he’d run after her. Was he here to be the voice of reason, to defend his friend?
Axel’s shaved hair and constant ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression had a way of making everyone shrink around him. She wasn’t in the mood to shrink; she wanted to destroy this whole place like Godzilla on a rampage. Stomp everyone into the ground and roar until her throat bled.
“, you can’t go out there.” It sounded like a command more than a request. His refusal to remove his hand from her arm only fuelled her desire to scream. Why he cared, she didn’t know; they’d never been friends. He clearly knew what Cillian had done, and suddenly she felt an overwhelming humiliation that forced her to look away from Axel’s searching eyes.
Cillian hadn’t locked the door. Did he even care about getting caught? About hurting me? The wave of emotions strangled her.