High Five? (Fransykes)

Chapter Two

The bus trundled up in front of the venue that afternoon, and we started preparing ourselves for the show. Doors opened at six thirty, which meant the majority of the setup had to be done. The show started at seven fifteen. I walked off the bus and half ran - half skipped into the venue, my jacket bundled closely around me. After our breakfast stop, I had taken over the driving and blasted the heater, making even my constantly blue toes turn a somewhat average colour.

Scoping out the venue, I returned to the bus to lug out my trestle tables to set up the merchandise. I took the stands in first - one in each arm - and placed them in a heap before recruiting the help of Oliver to carry in the table portion.

"Is that the last of them?" Oli asked as we lowered the third plank of wood to the ground.

"Oli, you do this every show. Must you ask every time?" I rolled my eyes at him.

"Nah, I just wanted to make sure you knew you didn't have to go back out into the cold." He answered with a cheeky grin, reaching over to muss my hair.

"I do, actually. Merch boxes don't magically fly in." I followed him into the cold, leaving the wide doors open behind me. Ducking into the storage compartments under the bus I pulled out the boxes upon boxes of merch, demanding Oli stack them in my arms for me so I could carry many at once. My arms straining, I leaned backwards slightly, letting the boxes rest on my body, and started my way back. My hands, swathed in mittens, were struggling to keep a grip on the boxes. I felt Oli's frame bump up against mine and I turned my head to see him carrying a box of his own.

"Oliver," I began sternly, "it is my job to ready the merch."

"It's also your job to set up a mic for yourself but you ain't doin' that." He retorted, smiling carelessly.

"Merch first. It's not a priority I sing." I dumped the boxes next to the unassembled trestle tables, Oli doing the same with his lone box. I started setting up the tables, leaving Oli to fetch the other boxes. If he wanted to help, sure, but I'd get to do the warmer jobs. My tables set up in a "U" formation against the wall, I hung up a white sheet and began pinning items to it.

"You forgot prices." The cockney accent striked the air with a teasing edge.

"I know. Did you bring the rest of the boxes?" I asked, turning around and picking up another shirt, stabbing thumbtacks into the shoulders.

"Yeah. And just so you know, you singing means a lot to me." Oliver said, before walking towards the stage. "Have fun with merch." I shook my head at his retreat. His last comment had been sarcastic, but he didn't understand how fun selling merchandise could really be. Looking at all the excited fans, guessing which artist they had come for and mentally adding strikes to the 'correct' board in your mind when they bought merch from the speculated artist. Watching them talk with their friends excitedly about the show, and even pass a few words between them while calculating the price. A smile had overcome my face without even realising it.

As I fixed the price tags to the sheet, I saw another set of hands start to pin up You Me At Six's items. "James!" I greeted him happily, the clean shaven man turning towards me.

"Jenna." His accent made my name sound like Jenner. "How have you been?"

"No different as to when I saw you yesterday." I laughed lightly. James was five inches taller than me, which meant he stood at a grand total of six foot one. He had a sleeeve of tattoos, and I could see the top of his chest pieces above the neckline of his singlet and leather jacket combination. "Yourself?"

James only shook his head, muttering incoherently. "Are you going to be singing tonight?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah, Oli wants me to." I replied, checking the time. "Fifteen minutes till go time," I commented, looking around and noticing he still had a few more items to pin up, "want a drink?"

"Beer would be nice thanks."

I left the small area and started walking, wishing there was some sort of heating inside. I knew that turning it on would be a waste though because as soon as people started filing through the doors it would become a sauna. I maneuvered my way through the backstage area, finding a fridge with a selection of drinks. Taking James' beer and a bottle of diet coke for myself, I walked back out, nearly bumping into yet another tall male.

"Sorry," he apologised and I once again detected an English accent.

"No worries." I looked up at the tall guy. He had brown hair and light eyes and I couldn't detect the traces of any tattoos. "I'm Jenna. I handle the merch."

"Josh, lead singer of the support. Is there a reason we haven't met until now?" I skimmed through the memories of the past few days, coming up with an answer.

"I was a late addition to the tour, and yesterday I was busy figuring out the ropes of merch to drop by and say hello."

"That's quite rude of you," Josh said with a playful smile.

"Yeah, well, I'll see you on stage tonight." I walked past and back to where James was waiting.

- - -

"What shirt did you want?" I asked, my voice hoarse from yelling over the top of the few hundred people that were here. The guy pointed to the tour shirt and yelled his size. I grabbed the correct one from the box and smiled gratefully when I saw he already had the money ready. We exchanged items and he walked off, leaving me with another person to attend to.

We were now in the middle of the two sets, and with the break some people had decided to buy the merch. A tall guy with a hoodie approached me and I wearily asked, "What do you want?"

"You." The words were short and said without skipping a beat.

"Excuse me?"

"You," the guy leaned forward and spread his hands on the trestle table, allowing me to see the decorative patterns inked into them. "Now let's go." He put his hands back into his pockets and headed in the direction of a door, one that presumably led to backstage.

"See you James!" I shouted over the dull roar. James shook his head and laughed.

"Have fun, I'll keep an ear out."

"You're up on the third song. It's Don't Go." A stage manager told me as I stood side stage and watched Oli. 

I nodded absentmindedly, "thanks." I was glad I had come on this tour. I wasn't sure what else I would be doing right now. 

- - - 

After the show, I was clearing up the merch, another can of diet coke by my side.

"How were our sales?" I asked James, mindlessly folding. 

"Pretty good," he said, showing me the cashbox. A wide smile overcame my face, 

"The guys will be happy with that."

"Happy with what?" As always, Oli appeared. He slung an arm around my shoulers. Spotting the cashbox, he said, "Ah, yes, very happy."

"What are you here for?"

"To help you guys clear all this away and load up. We have a party to attend."

I pulled a face. "A party?"

"More of an excuse to drink really." Oli said, winking at me.