Say you love me

Part 8

Like the night before, the crowd was packed. Also like the night before, the crowd was rude, rowdy, and made up of mostly teenagers. John was uneasy about how the show would go, considering last night. But they still had to play, and play they would.
John and Christine parted ways before she went on stage to open up for Fleetwood Mac, sharing a few lingering kisses (Yeah, they were that couple). Just before Chris slipped behind the cheap velvet curtain, she smiled and whispered, "Don't think this is all you're getting, Johnny, I've got a few other ways you can use those hands!" God, she was wild. Wild, carefree, sexy, and so fun. How had they lived so long without finding each other? Christine's wild spirit was a nice contrast to John's quiet persona, like chocolate and vanilla, or yin and yang. Even though they had only formally known each other less than a day, John already knew he loved her. He was never really a romantic, but he loved Chris in all the sweet, silly ways it would be foolish to love someone else in.
Walking backstage to tune up, Peter Green, the guitarist of Fleetwood Mac, appeared at John's side.
"Hey, man, we missed you at practice! What the hell were you doing?" Peter said in a friendly tone. Mick was the only heckler of the group, and that was only because the band was so important to him.
"Oh, just had to take care of some shit," John replied.
"Oh no, buddy! You've got that look!" They walked back to the small array of chairs where Mick and Jeremy were sitting.
"What look?" Mick and Jeremy's ears perked up. They knew what Peter was talking about, and sex was always a welcome topic to them, as it was with all men.
"You've got that after sex glow!" Peter laughed. John was suddenly embarrassed. Was it really that noticible, or was Peter just being an asshole? He prayed it was the former. He reached for his bass, which was resting in it case near the chairs, and began to fiddle with it absentmindedly. Jeremy playfully slapped John on the back. "Yeah man, you're glowing like the fucking sun! She must've been one hell of a screw!" All three laughed. Mick chimed in, "Was it Sunny? I bet you gave her your vitamin D!" Sunny was a well-known groupie who was infamous for being so err, generous, with band members. She'd toured with countless bands, it was rumored that she'd slept with all four Beatles, all at the same time. The three men laughed harder. They continued to rag on John until he got irritated, he knew they were just fucking around with him, but was it really any of their business? When one of them was hungover, the rest had enough decency to set out water and speak quietly. Why did they have to give him shit about missing rehearsal once?
"It's none of your fucking business who I've been screwing, you bastards!" As soon as the words escaped his mouth, the rest of the guys shut up. John was a quiet fellow, and like any other quiet person, when he got mad, he got mad. There was the time Peter and him got into it and poor Peter had nearly lost his front teeth, John's still paying the dental bill for that one.
"Look," He continued. "We've only really known each other not even a full day, but things are going good. I even think I love her, and I want to see how things go. Mick," John looked at Mick. "I'm sorry for missing rehearsal today. You know I never do, and it won't happen again." Mick nodded, then grinned at his friend.
"Well, mate, do we get to know her name?" Jeremy and Peter looked at John expectedly. They still thought it was Sunny. To them, this was the moment of truth.
"She's Perfect. Christine Perfect." Peter gave a low whistle. Christine Perfect was the fucking nun of the rock n' roll scene, she didn't like hard liquor and never took any poppers, so naturally he had turned her down when she asked him for a date. He almost felt sorry for John, the poor bastard. But John was obviously very taken with her, it was written all over his face, so he quickly added, "Well, she's quite a catch." The four men sat in silence for the rest of Chicken Shack's set, talking about their next gig in Dallas, and what time they should be up tomorrow to load the gear and get on the road. They'd be there for only a week, then everyone would get a month off. John was going back to England to spend time at home, maybe he'd get some decent sleep there finally. Maybe, if things went right, Chris would go back with him and they'd really have some proper time alone.
The set was over. Chicken Shack bid goodnight to the audience, then walked backstage while the roadies packed their instruments up. Chris, looking lovely in her red maxi skirt and white blouse with bell sleeves, walked up to John. She didn't know if everyone else knew about her and John yet, and didn't want to say anything in case they didn't. She nervously looked at Mick, Jeremy, and Peter and said, "Hi, nice to see you." "Nice to see you as well," Jeremy said, grinning wolfishly. Mick shot him a look. John sensed Chris's nervousness, because he softly pecked her lips and said, "You were great out there, Baby." Chris smiled softly.
John knew it was irrational, hell it hadn't even been a full day and he was already positive he was in love with Christine Perfect. He loved her charm, her spirit, her easy laughter. He loved her personality and the stories she could endlessly tell. He loved the way she held his hands outside her hotel room, and the way it just felt so right. He loved her beautiful blonde hair and deep blue eyes, her sexy voice.
Chris ran her hand through his hair, loving his long, shaggy mane of brown hair. She could feel the stares of Mick, Peter, and Jeremy on her back, and it made her uncomfortable. She pulled away and walked away, her skirt swishing. She called over her shoulder, "Good luck tonight, John. Oh, by the way, remember I still owe you that drink." John was too busy getting a good look at Christine's ass as she walked away to overhear Mick whisper "I bet she owes him a drink of vitamin D!", and Peter and Jeremy's gleeful laughter.