Page 63 of Just What She Needed

As the crowd shook the rafters with a roar of delight, the band ripped into "Enter Sandman," with Rhys doing a very interesting James Hetfield imitation. The whole band got into it, though, and the hair was flying all over the stage.

After the abbreviated version of the song ended, the crowd called out its guesses as to which member of Illicit had chosen it until David stood up from behind his drum kit and took a bow. Drew, not waiting for David to sit down again, began an intricate bit of guitar playing that sounded vaguely familiar.

Next to her, Sara shrieked in delight. "This is for me! My middle name is Lorelei." Then Rhett recognized the Styx song, its synthesizer beginning replaced with Drew's guitar.

It was interesting hearing the songs the guys chose to play, and it was amazing to hear them put their own spin on those songs. Drew's "Man in a Box" skated close, but not over the edge, into metal, and Parker's "Flirtin' With Disaster" turned into a tour de force with Drew and Ross trading guitar licks like gunslingers at the O.K. Corral.

With a start, Rhett realized that the song Rhys chose was the only one left, and she leaned over the rail as if that could help her hear better. It began with acoustic guitar from Drew, and she pulled in a gasp as she recognized America's "Sister Golden Hair." In the capable hands of Illicit, the folksy country feel of the song was stripped away and turned into pure unadulterated rock. Halfway through the song, the band segued seamlessly into Tom Petty's "American Girl."

As Sara whooped and pounded her on the back, Rhett stood immobile, her eyes on Rhys as he changed to lyrics to my American girl. Even though he never glanced toward the section in which she sat, she knew why he'd chosen those two songs. And they were perfect, both of them. The heat that warmed her skin had nothing to do with the air temperature or the proximity of the powerful lights that illuminated the band. It came directly from the man standing center stage, his now-damp hair flowing down his back as his smoky, spell-binding voice rocked Boston.

A sudden thought made her drop into her seat, open mouthed. Rhys sang those songs every night from the time the tour opened in Sydney in October, through every stop in Australia, Europe and the U.S. No matter where he was playing, for a brief time in each show Rhett was with him. He chose those two songs with her in mind, to take her on tour with him even though she was halfway around the world. The enormity of this rocked her to her core, and she lifted shaking fingers to her mouth in shock.

Sara sat beside her and leaned close to yell in her ear. "You okay?"

Rhett looked at her new friend with a smile so wide it actually hurt. There was no one else in the world who could understand just how she felt at that moment, and she was grateful Sara was there to share it with her. "Every night," she yelled back. "He sings that every night."

No words were necessary as Sara nodded in understanding. She cupped Rhett's cheek in her hand and mouthed the words "every night."

"Yeah, those were mine," Rhys said when the song came to an end. "Like 'em?" Without acknowledging the crowd's enthusiastic answer, he turned around and nodded to David who counted off the beat for Illicit's own "Bold Prediction."

After the band ran through several more songs, Sara tapped her on the shoulder and leaned close so Rhett could hear her. "We should probably go now. It's easier if we leave before they finish."

Rhett nodded and followed her down the concrete steps to the floor. They pushed their way through the throngs of people until they reached a security barricade at the right side of the stage. A bald man with enough muscles to make both Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone green with envy was stationed behind it, head turned as he watched the band. Sara pulled her pass from under her shirt, and Rhett followed suit. The man turned to give them a steely glare as they approached, but after a look at their laminates, he moved the barricade aside enough for them to slip through with no comment.

Once backstage, Sara set a quick pace. They passed a large, brightly lit and empty room, and the room where they ate dinner. The corridor came to a dead end, and Sara turned down a hallway that branched to the right. She stopped at a plain gray door with a paper sign taped to it warning that it was for BAND ONLY. Rhett followed her in and looked around at the dressing room. Large, overstuffed black leather couches were covered in fleece throws in jewel tones of blue, red and green, and several lamps with low-wattage bulbs cast ambient light. A black coffee table was covered with cans and bottles with varying levels of beverages inside, a couple of ashtrays with cigarette butts and pot roaches crushed in them, and wrappers from a variety of candy bars and sticks of gum.

Sara dropped onto one of the couches with a sigh and gestured for Rhett to take a seat. "Might as well get comfortable. It'll be a while until they get back here. They've still got the encore to do, and it's usually a couple of songs. Try to catch a nap if you can. For these guys, the night is still young. Rest while you have the chance."

24

There's a hell of a lot of freedom in this rock and roll circus ... it's where the freaks go.—Brian Molko

It could have been any conference room at any major venue—industrial beige carpeting, florescent lights, neutral-colored walls, and beverages to keep everyone hydrated. Except the beverages were mostly alcoholic in nature, and the inhabitants were mostly twenty-something girls dressed in the latest fashions from Sluts R Us.

Rhett stood next to the wall with Sara, watching the parade of barely-there shorts, bras worn as outer garments, and sky-high heels, all of it displayed on tanned, firm bodies. She tugged on the sleeves of Lilith's shirt and wondered what in the hell she was doing there.

"All of a sudden my shirt here doesn't feel so Rock 'n Roll girlfriend anymore."

The look Sara gave her was full of understanding. "On the contrary, what you and I are wearing are the only things in here that are. Because we are Rock 'n Roll girlfriends, right? Don't let it bother you."

"I'm not bothered. I just kind of feel like I've stumbled into one of those video games where you nail whores for extra points."

Sara laughed so hard she had to lean against the wall for support. "That's the best description I think I've ever heard. And you're right. It is a game, and when some of the band decide to show up it'll kick into high gear. Just sit back and watch it play out. Believe me, it'll get really entertaining."

"Are you kidding? It already is." Rhett took a swallow from her bottle of Sam Adams. "So how'd all these people get back here anyway?"

"Some of them probably won passes from radio station contests. A couple are probably girls who caught either Drew or Parker's eye during the show."

"Really?" She looked closer at the girls preening themselves and casting wrath-filled glances at each other. "I thought that was just urban legend. You know, that the rock star plucks girls from the audience."

"Oh, no, they do it." Sara shrugged. "Of course, they've forgotten who they saw by now, so it's no big deal. Although that is how Drew met his ex-wife." She shook her head. "He learned real quick that you just fuck the girls you find in the audience, you don't marry them. It wasn't pretty."

"So most of these girls got back here like that?"

"Oh, hell no. The majority of those passes were given out by the road crew."

"Seriously?" Rhett turned wide eyes toward Sara. "Why?"