Jenn Monty’s Picture Choice: Both
Music drifted through the concert hall with a fierceness Alan hadn’t anticipated. Lights flashed and smoke churned just like every other show but this audience was alive; a sweaty, writhing entity breathing in his music. The surreal view from center stage echoed in his ears when lyrics streamed back at him from the alien crowd. A thousand voices belted out his words causing Alan to grin like a cheshire cat. Being a rock star was such a wonderful life.
Alan’s heart pounded as the last song died away. Cheers from the crowd vibrated through his body and the rush bubbled up through his bones. It was the perfect night. Almost. Thoughts of Becky tugged at the back of his mind for a brief second before the adrenaline washed them away. The lights finally dimmed and Alan moved to the back of the stage. Another night, another city, another adoring crowd; Becky would have loved this show with its infectious vibe. Seriously, stop, he thought to himself. Becky had moved on and hundreds of girls out there tonight would gladly take her place. He thought about asking a few to come back to the tour bus. Instead, Alan grabbed his cell phone and slipped out the back door before his manager forced him to mingle with the fans.
He pulled his hood up and walked behind the building, looking for a secluded spot. He didn’t want a stray fan stumbling up, it would kill his nerve. He found a bridge with a train track running beneath and moved into the tunnel. What time would it be for her? He couldn’t remember what time zone he was in but it couldn’t be too late back home. Alan hit the speed dial; he still hadn’t removed her number.
“Hello, Alan.” Her voice sang through the phone. She obviously hadn’t removed his number either if she knew who was calling. Hope trickled into Alan’s heart.
“Hello, Becky. It’s not too late I hope?” he asked. God it was wonderful to hear the sound of his name on her lips.
“No, it’s just about dinner time here. Where are you tonight?” Alan’s shoulders slumped; she wasn’t following the tour then.
“Just finished the show in Bristol. I’m not too far from Temple Station,” he said.
“Öh. Was it a good crowd?”
“A great crowd. You would have loved it.”
“So you’re having a good tour then?”
“It would be better if you were waiting backstage each night.” Alan said the words before he could stop himself.
“Alan, we’ve been through this,” Becky began.
“I know,” Alan stopped her. “I just miss you.”
“OH MY GOD! There he is!” Alan cringed when he heard the shouting at the mouth of the tunnel. He knew Becky had heard it too.
“Go on then; your fans are waiting,” Becky said. Alan thought he heard disappointment in her voice.
“No, just go. You can’t stay here with me and I’d rather be blind than see all those girls.”
Alan heard a click on the other end of the line. He snapped his phone shut, plastered on his best fake smile, and went to greet the girls who had ruined his night.
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Jenn Monty, also known as Brewed Bohemian, is a lover of Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Horror and anything with "Punk" in the name. She is an avid reader and writes flash fiction at www.BrewedBohemian.blogspot.com