I could never really understand the purpose of smoke machines.
I mean, I could — the purpose, of course, is to fill the stage with smoke — so I guess my confusion was with the point. Why fill the stage with smoke?
My aversion to those particular pieces of technology is most likely rooted in the large number of embarrassing almost-tumbles I'd taken when walking off of the stage throughout my career, but regardless of how it came about, it was oh so present that night.
Steph came by my kit to get me as always, holding me tightly by my forearm as I squinted at the thick, white vapor. It always amazed how she kept her cool, but it full on astonished me how she managed to see her way through the pale and ever-changing veil so effortlessly.
I let out a huff of relief upon reaching backstage, letting the force of her small hand jerk me forward when Hazel approached me with one of her standard congratulatory pats on the back. One of the KISS roadies kindly handed me a bottle of water, a gift which I thankfully and thirstily swilled as the boys began to shuffle out of their dressing rooms.
Despite the others, at this point, putting in no effort to hide the true nature of their closeness, I was still hesitant to show my affection towards Eric around the rest of the band. I had this nagging insecurity that I'd be taken less seriously as a musician if people, namely the press, found out that I'd been sleeping with a member of KISS during our tour. I mean, would people say? That my talent had nothing to do with my being chosen to tour with them? That the only reason I was accepted onto the tour is because Eric was attracted to me?
Yes, it's true that we hadn't started sleeping with each other until the tour had already began, but no one would believe that. And even if they did, I could still see people saying that they accepted us only because they knew we'd sleep with them eventually. I was completely overrun with anxieties about the public perception of my relationship with Eric, as well as their ideas about the rest of the girls' relationships with their respective flings.
As a sort of distraction, I chugged the ice cold water with remarkable speed, gasping and inhaling through flared nostrils after having gone however long without air. I'd completely emptied the bottle, the sound of plastic being crushed ringing out as it got squished by the grip of my palm. A few weak coughs raked my body, ridding me of the few stray gulps of water that had gotten me all choked up.
After I'd begun to regain my composure, I felt a recognized hand rest on my back yet again; this time larger, warmer, and placed much lower. Their familiar scent and the intimate placement of their hand let me know without a doubt that the person beside me was Eric. I rose from my subtly hunched position with a cold hand slightly covering my now ruddy face.
My eyes were brimmed with tears from my near suffocation, and my lips a bit puffy and blood-red.
"Is everything alright there, Suzy?" He chuckled, absentmindedly dragging his drumsticks across the pyramid studs that littered the legs of his neon pants.
I simply offered him a nod, still trying to recover my collectedness. He gave me a few pats on the back of my shoulder before saying one last thing, something that I honestly wasn't listening to at all. I assumed he was telling me that he was heading on stage and that he'd see me after the show, to which I hummed in response with my eyes shut to lessen my overstimulation.
What couldn't have been (or at least didn't feel like) more than a few moments later, Paul could be heard pumping up the crowd by going through his unofficial list of phrases that he'd decided needed to be yelled into any sea of eager rockers. I chuckled at his antics under my breath, suddenly realizing my immense discomfort and lifting my hands to pull the sweaty hair off of my neck.
It's most certainly time for a shower.
The rest of the VIxen girls were either already off showering or watching KISS play from the wings. Laura in particular was especially enthusiastic in her lip-syncing of their set, throwing her chocolate brown poodle hair in every direction as she yanked an unamused roadie by the sleeve of his denim jacket.
I made no attempt to announce my departure, heading for the showers with a swift turn on my heels. It didn't take me long to get there, see how it was just around the corner and down a short hallway. I peeled off my stage clothes and stepped into the shower, wasting no time before turning on the tap.
The soothing sensation of hot water running down my skin was completely unparalleled, especially after another long and exhausting show. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the sensation of the soap working it's way around my skin, humming in delight at the joys of cleanliness.
I grabbed the shower hose for the wall, rinsing the sweat and entire can of hairspray from my tresses as I continued to hum an abstract melody. I'd just begun massaging the shampoo into my scalp when all of a sudden I heard a voice call out a word of two. I couldn't hear it all that clearly with my ears being partially clogged with water, but I knew it had to have been someone I know or else they would've fled in embarrassment.
I had a sneaking suspicion that it was Hazel, as she had a habit of walking in on people paired with an almost impressive general disregard for personal space and boundaries. I found this thought, however annoying, somewhat comforting.
"Hello?" I shouted, my volume amplified by the acoustics of the nearly empty bathroom.
"It's me." The voice said cheerily.
I could tell right then that it certainly wasn't Hazel.
I hurriedly tried to rinse the shampoo out of my hair, recognizing the awkwardness of the situation and eager to see who it was that I was staking in a room with naked. My left hand swiped the sudsy water from my eyes, my right placing the shower hose back in its rightful place. My lashes cautiously flickered open, weary of any shampoo residue, and my eyes bulged when I saw the face staring back at me.
"Eric!" I shouted, my arms instinctively wrapping around my torso to cover my bare breasts. My body contorted itself into a rather avant-garde pose, a bit like one of those editorial models from overseas, attempting to hide my intimate parts to the best of my ability. Eric chuckled, seeming amused by my vain attempts at modesty.
"Relax, honey, it's nothing I haven't seen before." He smirked, accompanying his remark with a playful jab of his index finger into my side.
I let my head hang down with an eye roll, a heavy sight following soon there after.
Why do we always end up in situations like this?
"What are you doing here, Eric? I know you set isn't over." I stepped out of the shower, snatching the fluffy white towel off of the hook as I shot him an unambiguously vexed glare.
He trailed behind my footsteps as I walked over to the rather small mirror, his fingertips grazing my shoulder as I towel dried my face and hair like a lazy teenaged boy.
"Well, I actually came in here to rinse out my eyes. I got a little bit of smoke in them and they were watering." He confessed, his touch steadying diagonally to my shoulder blade.
I suppressed my smirk with a scoff, wrapping the towel around my body and bending to pick up my dirty stage costume.
"Since you've finished doing that, I think it's time you went back onstage. We both know Paul could go on forever, by why subject the fans to that?" I joked, weaving around him to head out of the bathroom door.
I held the towel close to my chest and I walked through the hall to my dressing room. I could hear Eric approaching behind me, and knowing his child was humor, I didn't put it past him that he'd pull my towel down if he had the chance.
He called out a 'see ya!' while he made the turn to head back onstage, making me let out an amused sigh as I pushed open my dressing room door. I quickly dressed myself and brushed through my wavy hair, trying to get my things together as quickly as I could so I could reserve my favorite seat in the van before KISS got finished with their set.
I hurried out to the parking lot to do just that, biding my time by conversing with the driver since I knew that the bands would all be coming to meet us soon. As usual, there was talk of clubbing that night, but what's interesting is that I actually decided to go for a change.
When everyone emerged through the back doors. my attention was brought to three shined new cars that were parked not too far from the van. I'd seen KISS' managers' cherry red Mustang, but the two, shiny black convertible Mercedes blended perfectly into the deep night sky.
"Come on, Suzy, get out of the van! We're going in the Benz!" Laura shouted from across the lot. She was remarkably easy to spot due to the sequins of her foil bomber reflecting the sparse lanterns lining the brick walls of the venue.
I hadn't put much thought into the fact that I'd now be going clubbing with a bare face and damp hair in a t-shirt and jeans, but I'd already basically agreed to go and I know that Laura won't have me trying to back out of my word last minute. I feigned irritation as I out of the van and down onto the glittering asphalt of the parking lot.
It was a rather chilly December night, Christmas was inching closer by the day and memories of the bands busting ourselves with trying to guess how festive a town would be based on its name made a smile creep onto my lips. I probably looked a bit like an elf with the apples of my cheeks and the tip of my nose ruddied by the biting wind.
We quickly packed ourselves into the cars, one of KISS' managers opting to ride in the van with the driver while the other took Hazel along in the Mustang. The driver let us know he'd decided to just head back to the hotel since the manager was tired, and he looked it too. He warned us to watch out drinking since we'd be responsible for driving ourselves home, and to call him to pick us up if we were too drunk to drive ourselves.
We all nodded and sent him away, giggling amongst ourselves as we got ourselves sorted and dropped the top. Once we finally took the road, I managed to surprised even myself with my enjoyment of Jess' reckless driving. With the top down, the crisp night air caressed the numb and flushed skin of my face, soothing any worriers before they even had the chance to show their face.
I hugged my tweed coat closer to my body, Eric, who was sitting next to me, taking this as a sign to volunteer his body heat and wrap his arm around me. I allowed it in the privacy of the night, snuggling into pleasantly warm chest and breathing in his scent with eyes fluttered closed.
But, all good things come to an end, and we eventually reached the party location for the night. It was rather dingy bar; crowded and stuffy and filled with various kinds of smoke. The dim lighting provided a sleek façade of mystique, one which seemed to be greatly appreciated by the sloppy and intoxicated crowd of sleazy dancers.
I separated from Eric and opted for a seat in a booth in the corner at first. I was uninterested in dancing like a fool with the VIxen girls, and wasn't keen on the idea of drinking like a juicehead with the managers and KISS.
But as great as I am, solitude gets lonely, and I eventually gave in and waddled my sorry ass over to the bar.
Now, I'm really not much of a drinker. I'll at most have a beer or two, but I generally like to keep sober to take care of my friends. But, for some reason, that night, I was a rather heavy drinker. I was downing shot after shot with no chaser, and any drink that a gentleman suitor had purchased for me would straight down with no questions asked. However amusing he found my sudden thirst for liquor, Eric didn't seem to have a very high opinion of my appreciation for the free drinks.
And he wasn't the only one. Hazel had rejected a number of drinks on my behalf, but eventually had to resort to pulled the glass away from my lips as I'd been quite cheeky that night. This wasn't out of character for Hazel at all; I was the one who was actually bizarre. She was always the one to tell us to slow down our drinking and to maintain a certain level of femininity and couth when in public, so her interference and incessant nagging was nothing out of the ordinary. But I knew I'd crossed a line when my inebriation had gotten to the point where even the other VIxen girls were telling me to ease up.
It was at that point everyone decided it was time to leave, something I made a mental note to apologize for tomorrow. As I stumbled out of the bar piss-drunk, we saw KISS' manager speed off into the night in his cherry red ride.
"Fucking prick." Hazel mumbled, her voice slightly gruff in my ear as she helped me to the car, something that, on a normal night, she'd be doing for Jess and Laura.
Steph was sitting in the driver's seat of the first Benz with Gene sitting passenger, the two of them both seeming fed up with the folly of the night and ready to crash in their hotel beds.
The second and closer Benz was packed with Bruce, Laura and Jess, Hazel helping me into the backseat with an uncharacteristically gentle patience and care. Just as she closed my car door, Paul and Eric finally spilled out of the bar, their footsteps clumsy and their clothes disheveled.
Paul raced over to the car, hopping over me into the seat next to Laura like a little child. Eric trudged up to the car with a sad look on his face, evidently upset that he couldn't ride in the same car as me because all the seats were taken.
"Just get in the other car, we're all going to the same place!" Bruce teased, nudge Eric's arm from the passenger seat. Eric looked over into my droopy eyes, letting out a huff and a weak smile before agreeing to ride in the first car. I lazily watched him through heavy eyelids, giggling in amusement when he and Hazel got into a small rift over who would get the window seat.
We soon after started driving towards the hotel, a more than tipsy Jess at the wheel actually managing to keep the car straight. Eric would turn around in his seat to look and me and shoot me a funny face every once and a while, a gesture that I found greatly amusing in my drunken state.
The air was and clear and cold, the sky the richest shade of navy blue I'd ever seen. The stars, which were few and far between, twinkled brilliantly above our heads. I felt the security to let me eyes flicker closed if I wanted due to our being the only cars I could see on the road. Still, I felt an intense desire to keep my focus trained on the back of Eric's head. He hadn't looked back at me for a while — well, maybe it'd only been a few minutes but it felt like an eternity.
There's something about love — or, infatuation, rather — that gives you the ability to do things you otherwise wouldn't be able to; like be able to see curly black hair with perfectly clarity in the dead of night. I silently chuckled to myself about my ability to spot him, letting my head rest against the half rolled up window as the wind bled through the frizzy locks.
And in my relaxation, a blinding light, something like an angel, appeared in the corner of my eye. It engulfed my vision, chasing out the depth of the night and blanketing the brilliance of the stars. It came like a flash of lightning, causing me to jolt up and whip my head in its direction. And just when I did, the flash disappeared as if it were a mirage.
There was the instantaneous sound of glass breaking, steel bending and tires screeching, and my sight was once again swallowed by an all consuming darkness.