Free Between a Rockstar and a Hard Place by Portia MacIntosh

Chapter One: Out of the frying pan, into the crowd
     
    They
say when you can’t find something the first thing you should do is look for it
in the last place you remember seeing it. Well the last time I saw the thing I
have misplaced, he was up on stage performing some of his greatest hits in
front of 50,000 screaming fans. I am, of course, talking about super-famous
rockstar Dylan King – best known for being the lead singer in The Burnouts,
less known for being my best friend.
    We
first met when I was just starting out as a music journalist and he made it his
mission to sleep with me. He pulled out all the stops to impress me, but the
harder he tried the harder I resisted and I’m so glad that I did because I’d
rather have him as a friend than a famous notch on my bedpost. There are
downsides to being his best friend, though. Dylan is what you’d call a
liability, and despite his fame and his ability to sell records, his record
label know that he can be unpredictable and they’re constantly telling him to
watch his behaviour – this is like telling a bull to ignore the colour red
because Dylan only views their warnings as a challenge to see just how far he
can push them, and one day he will push them too far. That’s where I come in.
I’m a Dylan wrangler. I’m the only one who is always there in the background,
regulating his rebellious behaviour and making sure he doesn’t take things too
far. I’m the one who makes sure he is on time for sound checks, the one who
makes sure he carries condoms and the one who always tries to make sure there
is a little blood in his alcohol stream. The reality is that Dylan is almost
always drunk, he has little respect for women and he thinks that he is God.
Still, I love him to bits, and I’m happy to do all the things his tour manager
is paid to do. It’s not that Claire doesn’t do her job well, it’s just that Dylan
doesn’t listen to her.
    Speaking
of Claire, I spotted her in the press tent, so I wander over to see if she has
any idea where Dylan is.
    ‘Hey
Claire, how’s it going?’
    ‘Nicole,
hello. Not bad, although your boy is drunk,’ she replies.
    Why
is it that he’s my boy when he does something wrong? I don’t get the credit or
the big paycheques when his sell-out tours go well.
    ‘When
isn’t he?’ I joke. ‘Have you seen him since he came off stage?’
    ‘Oh
yes. It was immediately after he came off stage, actually. He asked me if I had
heard of his band and then he tried to kiss me.’
    I
burst out laughing, although Claire isn’t amused. All these years she’s worked
for him, and he still doesn’t recognise her when he’s smashed. Then again, when
Dylan is smashed he is capable (or not capable in some cases) of anything.
    ‘Mikey
is just doing an interview, why don’t you ask him?’ Claire suggests. ‘And when
you do find Dylan, tell him I need a word.’
    I
decide to hang around and wait for Mikey, Dylan’s younger brother/band mate.
Mikey is probably more talented than Dylan, but Dill has the balls needed to be
a front-man. He's not quite as tall, dark or handsome as his brother - and he
behaves himself - so he is often overshadowed by his older sibling. Mikey is
happy, so long as he is strumming his guitar and writing incredible songs for
Dylan to sing.
    ‘Yo,
Mike,’ I call out as soon as he is done taking questions.
    ‘Hey,
Nic. Did you enjoy the show?’
    ‘I
did,’ I tell him – and I mean it. I watched it from down in the photo pit,
that’s the best seat in the house. Well, the best standing position in the
field, this is the Rockin’ Radio Summer Roadshow after all – a one-off summer
show situated in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere, with only the
best of the best from the music biz invited to perform.
    ‘You
haven’t seen Dylan, have you?’ I ask.
    ‘Nope. 
He ran off stage as soon as we finished our set and that was the last I saw of
him.’
    I
noticed that he ran off pretty sharp-ish too. One