fame • greta van fleet

I • Outside the Venue

"Remember, twelve at the very latest. I'm going to be right here to pick you up-" my mother repeated for at least the seventh time that night.
"Yes, mom, I know. I'm 18, I can handle myself." I said exasperated. I understood her overprotective attitude, this being the first time I had gotten to interview a band, but there was a point between protective and overbearring.
"I know you can, Ellie, I just worry." She sighed amd smiled at me. "Go have fun. I love you."
"Love you too," I responded, hopping out of the car. The night air held a lingering scent of cigarettes and alcohol. I could hear muffled music coming from the stadium as I moved through crowds of people towards the back door. I hated the idea of getting into the show this way, knowing I would be assumed as a groupie. Nothing against groupies, I just wanted to be respected more than someone who tries to sleep with the band. I walked down the ramp to the metal door out back, pressing the buzzer. A large man opened the door, looking me up and down with disdain.
"Back with the other girls, the band's not even here yet," he snarled. I bit back the remark on my tongue and smiled through gritted teeth.
"I'm afraid there's a misunderstanding. I'm a freelance journalist, I'm here to interview the band performing tonight. Eleanor Smith," I said as sacharrinely as I could. He turned to check the book of guests on his podium before shaking his head.
"Nice try, but I'm not seeing an Eleanor Smith on here. Now get back to your kind," he growled, slamming the door in my face. I pounded against the door in anger.
"Bastard!" I shouted, turning and stomping back up the ramp. I huffed and sat down on the concrete rail, going over my options.
"Rejected, huh?" I heard a voice say from behind me. I turned to see a colourfully-clad woman, eyes hidden by pink toned sunglasses though it was dark.
"Yeah," I sighed. "Mistaken for a fucking groupie."
"What's wrong with being a groupie, doll?" She inquired, sitting next to me. My eyes widened, as I realized that she herself probably was exactly that.
"Oh nothing, I just don't want people to think...I mean, I'm a journalist, I'm not here just to sleep with the band," I stuttered.
"Oh, honey, there's more to it than just sleeping with them," another voice chimed behind me. There were 4 other girls besides the one sitting next to me, all dressed flamboyantly. I felt out of place in my band tee and jeans.
"Exactly, we offer companionship. And we're here for the music. Always for the music," said the girl in the orange overcoat.
"Right, I'm sorry," I sighed.
"No problem, we've heard much worse," the girl sitting next to me assured. Soon, a bus pulled up at the top of the ramp. The girls fell into a flutter of excitement. The band was here.
"Come on," the girl next to me coaxed, taking my hand and pulling me up. We all followed the bus down the ramp through the garage doors into the backstage area.
"We'll get you your interview," the girl next to me promised once we were sercurely backstage. "Groupies can do amazing things, my dear."