SPFC: Starry Knight Sky

“Hi. My name’s on the list. Bethany Runous?” I shouted to the giant security guard, whose eyes flicked to me briefly, then back to the line behind me.

“Pass only,” he drawled lazily, his face devoid of expression.

“I was informed there was a list! My brother’s the guitarist for the opening band, Beard Science? And my cousin, Marcus Cash Winston, he’s the lead singer? They’re expecting me.”

“Pass only,” the security guard/bouncer/Hercules droned again, appraising me less fleetingly this time, a stern look belying his annoyance. Turning, he dismissed me quickly, as if I were a fly to swat away, making it clear I was wasting his time. I was standing at the backstage entrance of the concert venue where my brother, the idiot formerly known as Zander, was playing with his band tonight.

I shivered. The sun had set a half hour ago, and there was a slight nip to the unseasonably cold October night, here in downtown Nashville. Frustrated, I looked down at my clothes. Scrubs, admittedly, were not a good wardrobe choice. I’d come right from my shift at the hospital, and sure, they were black with tiny skulls and crossbones— a bold choice at the hospital— but they would never get me into my brother’s sold-out show based on appearance alone.

Both Zander, my younger brother, and Marcus, my younger cousin, were in a band called Beard Science. They were opening for Derelict Sailors – one of the most popular country bands in the US right now – after signing with the same label a few weeks ago. Tonight’s show had very few publicly sold tickets. Most attendees were family, lucky ticket winners, some press, and other VIPs before their country-wide tour kicked off in Louisville next weekend. Beard Science had been selected for the coveted opening band slot for the entire tour, and tonight was their first show together.

Considering the exclusivity of the event, I should have shown up in something more appropriate, at least if I wanted to get in on looks alone.

But scrubs were not to blame for my biggest problem at the moment.

My biggest problem, it seemed, was that I’d trusted my brother.

I didn’t have a pass. Or a badge. Or any proof of entry, of any sort. A week ago, when I asked Zander how entry worked, he said, “We’ll put your name on the list,” and I didn’t question him.

Which, was a rookie mistake on my part, taking him for his word. Because, as my Uncle Cletus has described Zander, ’His biscuit’s not done all the way to the middle’.

I should have double checked with my younger cousin, Marcus. Zander and he were the same age, but Marcus was significantly more detail oriented and ran the business side of the band. Zander and Marcus did share one certain Winston trait in spades. Actually, all of my family seemed to. My cousins, as well as most of my uncles and a few aunts, were extraordinarily prone to mischief. This was second only to their tendency to gossip; thus, calling any one of them for help was out of the question. I had no doubt that a few of them were in attendance and would come out and save me, should I ask, because their first priority, their love and support of family, trumped all. But what would quickly follow would be teasing, then laughter, then...questions.

I had no interest in answering questions.

Questions like, “Where is your boyfriend tonight, Bethy?”

Wanting to appear unruffled, I tried keeping my temper in check by putting on my best appeasing smile. Facing the behemoth bouncer again, I met his eyes with full, unabashed eye contact.

“Look, I was told there was a list. I’m here for my brother. It’s his first performance with the new label. I don’t even care about seeing Derelict Sailors! If you could just, I don’t know, radio back and ask for him? Zander Runous?”

He didn’t even look at me this time, but a loud huff came from the line behind me. A quick glance in that direction revealed a group of angry girls, no doubt Derelict Sailor fans, in short dresses with immaculate made-up faces. I resisted the self-conscious urge to smooth my frizzy brown braid. Considering I’d been called into work at the last minute, then hastily showered in the locker room after my shift, changed into the only spare pair of scrubs in my locker, and applied both lip gloss and mascara whilst driving to get here in time, I didn’t even want to know what I looked like next to these beautiful people of the world.

“Heeeeeey.” I looked back, addressing them sheepishly. “Sorry. Y’all look great. Go Derelict Sailors!” My voice was high and reedy, even to my own ears. Guessing by the expression on their faces, my apology went over like a lead balloon. They all continued to display an impressive amount of resentment—not unwarranted as I must look completely out of place, jumped the line, then disparaged their favorite band in front of them as they froze their butts off in short dresses and bare arms – but impressive, nonetheless.

I was tempted to leave, but no, I had to stay and fight. Since the guys formed Beard Science, I’ve been to countless gigs, helped design and schedule social media marketing, and been one of their biggest supporters. And I loved my brother, fiercely, even if he was one fry short of a happy meal. We might bicker constantly, but it was our sibling’s way of showing love. If I didn’t show up tonight, Zander would be hurt.

I straightened, turning back toward the bouncer, giving him my stern, “Don’t mess with me” nursing look, the one I gave patients when I meant business. I wasn’t going to cow tow to his silent, commanding presence. I was a nurse. I saved lives! Ok, more like started IVs and fetched ice, but let’s not underestimate the importance of hydration. My point was, I was a lifesaving nurse, here to support my family. And despite how I was coming across, I belonged at this concert. I wasn’t some flighty, young, twenty-something girl, fishing for a backstage pass or hookup.

Umm, you are a young, twenty-something girl, and you should be fishing for a hookup, my hormones, those bossy bitches, unhelpfully supplied.

That was technically true. My ex-boyfriend, Dane, and I had broken up two months earlier. But I hadn’t told my family yet, my dad and uncles would maim him...or give him a case of leprosy. Both of which were strangely possible.

I could see the bouncer wasn’t going to budge easily. While I admired his work ethic, this called for desperate measures. I rose to my full height, which, considering I stood at 5′8" and only came up to this man’s pecs, said something about his size.

“Sir, there must be something we can work out. I was told personally by my brother, who really is the guitarist for the opening band, that there was a list. I came all the way from my long shift at the hospital so I could be here to support him. I need to get inside, and you’re going to get me there.”

And then, I made a big mistake.

As I was talking, I pointed my index finger out in emphasis and accidentally poked the bear.

Like, I literally, poked the bouncer. In the chest.

Flinching, the bouncer turned his head slowly and stared at me.

Did I just poke him? Don’t poke the bouncer, Bethany!

Suddenly, a strong, heavy arm came around my shoulders, my shocked yelp covered up by a rumbling male voice beside me, saying,

“Sorry I’m late, sweets. I have your pass.”

Abruptly swept into the side of a warm, muscular body, I felt something slip over my head as a hand shifted my braid aside, the soft touch against my neck causing shivers to move down my body as a backstage pass was gently looped around my neck.

Too shocked to speak, I glanced down, seeing dark low-top sneakers and black pants, then tilted my head up…and up…and up.

The stranger next to me, the man who just gave me a pass and was enigmatically saving my ass, was one of the most striking men I’d ever seen. He was clean shaven with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and dark blonde hair loosely combed back. That alone made him empirically attractive. But the addition of his aqua blue eyes alight with mirth and pink full lips set in a slight smile made him red hots level handsome.

Peering up at the Aleksander Skarsgard look-a-like, my face must have shown my complete confusion, but he only winked at me, then looked to the bouncer, giving him a head nod. I watched, stunned, as the security guard nodded in return, leaned forward to pull back the security rope, and waved us inside.

I had no clue what in the fresh hell was going on.

But, I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Knowing this was my only opportunity to get inside, I cleared my throat and spoke up.

“That’s ok, hun.” I gave a tight smile to the bouncer, then looked up to the handsome stranger beside me. I tried laying it on a little thicker, softening my voice a touch.

“You’re here now. Shall we?” As I said this, I stepped closer to him, wrapping my hand around his waist, trying not to open my mouth in shock as my palm stroked the incredibly defined muscles underneath his shirt.

His eyes went a little hazy as he searched my face. After taking a breath in, he whispered,

“Hi.”

Right then and there, it was like the rest of the world paused. Peripheral sounds were muffled, movement melted away, and it was just me and Alek 2.0, standing alone, in that moment. I was floating; his sweet cologne invaded my senses, almost drugging me as I got lost in those captivating eyes.

To put it mildly, I think I felt what my momma and her friends called “zings in my things.”

Even though I had no idea who he was, it didn’t seem to matter.

Because I was gonna find out.