Flashing lights, people cheering, all of it was for them. Only I am not one of them. I am just a roadie. My black fedora fit on my head perfectly. It made my dirty blonde hair that fell just two inches below my shoulders look better. No make up graced my usually make up lacking face. Of course I was wearing my Bob Marley tee shirt with my favorite black skinny jeans that have white knees from multiple washings in my mom's crappy washer. I'm 17 and guess what my summer job is. I am a roadie for my least favorite band. The Scarred Heavens. It payed well and all I had to do was do things for the band members. The lead singer, Josh McCall was relishing in the spotlight before doing his solo piece that would end the show. My converse squeaked against the floor as I walked up to the back of the stage and waited for him to finish. The cocky son of-. I'm not even going to give him the PRIVILEGE of taking up time that I could be thinking of my truck I will be buying when I get my pay check this Friday. Ah...
"McCarthly!" Josh yelled as he tossed his guitar at me.
"What the-" I barely made the catch. Both of icy blue eyes narrowed at him. "Ever heard of please?"
"Nope," he smiled that annoying cocky grin of his before walking away. Anger made my blood boil.
"Sorry Ashlynn. Josh can be kind of a...," the guitarist Dave Jones trailed off. He looked Jamaican. His brown hair hung in dreads and his forest green eyes were lost in thought.
"Annoying selfish cocky conceded egotistical full of himself faggish spotlight hogging,glorified, not so pretty pretty boy?" I finished his sentence. My eyebrow raised as he chuckled to himself and I walked away. Even though I hate its owner, I would never take it out on this beautiful instrument no matter how much I want to use it against the owner in a lethal manner. Once inside the storage room of the tour van, I packed it away with care and pulled out my old acoustic. It had been hand made by my grandfather. It was the last one of his Class A guitars ever made and it would have sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars but my grandfather gave it to his "musical prodigy" granddaughter, me, for the cost of one peck on the cheek. I slipped on the old worn leather strap and began to play softly, so as not to be heard. The Weeping Willow Tree song rang in my head as I sang it softly.
"Whispers of the willow tree that summon me here today.
Bring forth a piece of wood and tellith me to carve.
A trophy of majestic steed.
One's desire, the another's need.
I said tell me willow tree what would you like to play.
A fiddle or a violin.
I can make it in a day.
Willow tree hath summon me.
So that I can carve.
This piece of wood now carved and shaped in a whole new design.
The willow tree whispers softly take this branch o mine.
I took that branch from his carved again til a new shape form.
The willow tree whispers softly take this vine o mine.
I took that vine, turned it to twine, and brought forth six cords you see
The willow tree whispers softly take this guitar and play.
With guitar in hand I played it hard and strong.
Never to not play again all night long.
Willow tree that whispers to me has given me a gift.
Music from a true grace born within this valley
Tell me oh willow tree what would you like me to play.
I can play a ten songs or more in a day.
Play to me the willow tree song.
Let the world sing along.
The saddest song ever sung.
Shall be the one that most stung.
I played this song best I knew how and ended with the sight
Willow tree wept and kissed the ground I walked on.
Willow tree oh why do you weep?
The song so pure bent me to my knees sung with such complexity.
Brought these tears forth from me.
Weeping willow tree shall cry forever for me..."
Clapping was heard from the doorway and I nearly jumped. Josh was standing there smirking.
"Nice job, roadie," he smirked more, if possible, before walking over and taking my guitar.
"Give me my guitar!" I jumped up.
"Nah...," he began to try to play it and it angered me. No one played my guitar. I tackled him to the ground, my guitar went off to the side, and his body knocked the door back shut. Both of my legs straddled his waist as we landed. He groaned. Better be in pain...
"Never. Touch. My. Guitar," venom dripped in my words as I hissed them at him. He was just smirking. Then he did the most annoying thing ever. The mo fo kissed me! Of course I didn't kiss back. But of course her put his hand on the back of my head and on my back and held me down until I kneed him in the crotch. Then I jumped up, glared daggers at him and put away my guitar before rushing out the door.
The tour bus pulled off, rumbling and jostling around. My room was decorated with band posters. Like Skillet, Breaking Benjamin, The Band Perry, Thompson Square, etc. You probably guessed that Scarred Heaven is nowhere near my precious collage of bands that decorates my ceiling. There was a knock at the door and I released a groan.
"Come in!" I called over my radio as I flipped through a magazine. It's funny to see what lies the paparazzi have come up with. The door groaned open as a dude with a light tan and a black emo hair style walked in and shut it behind him.
"Malcolm!" I smiled at one of the few people in the band I was working for that I didn't hate. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and flashed me a smile as I tossed my magazine to the side and lowered the volume on the radio. Malcolm Waters was my best friend before they hired him as a guitarist for the band. Then he got me this job.
"Hey Ash," he replied before sitting next to me on my bed. His chin had some light stubble and his abs pressed through his white tee, desperate for escape.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" I mocked a British accent.
"I wanted to invite you to the ball m'lady. They will be serving tea and crumpets!" he replied in a British accent that sent chills through my body.
"What's a crumpet?" I asked without the accent.
"Not a clue," he replied without the British accent.
"Google it!" I cheered. He laughed and put an arm around my shoulders before squeezing them lightly. I snuggled into his side as the softly playing music revolved around us. His emerald eyes scanned me as I fell asleep.