stormed off... I have no idea. Yeah, he'll play tomorrow. I swear he'll play tomorrow... The rest of the band are happy with the mix."
I inched closer to her to listen but she'd hung up. "He stormed off," she'd said. Had she meant Tex? There was no music from the stage area.
She was definitely talking about Tex.
Shit, was she Tex's manager? I recognised her from my internet stalking. She was going out with that guy from that other band. I never understood that. When she was that close to Tex, how could she look at anyone else?
She’d said he'd stormed off. I'd missed him. I ran back the way I'd come, hoping to get a glimpse of him before he left. My feet flapped against the black rubber mats laid out on the ground as I picked up my pace. I had to get to him. Maybe he needed a shoulder to cry on. Maybe he needed support. I'd be there for him.
Then I spotted him.
I nearly tripped over. It was him. It was really him.
He headed towards the exit. My feet spun on the dusty ground as I rushed towards him. I had to catch up to him. I had to touch him and speak to him. When destiny comes a-knocking, you have to grab that opportunity with both hands – and when that is a Tex O’Malley-shaped opportunity, you definitely wanted to grab it.
I gained ground. It was definitely him. He was like no other man alive. My heart felt like a jackhammer in my chest and I wasn't sure if it was from the running or the closeness of him. I could run. I could fly if it meant I would be with Tex.
Then I stopped dead in my tracks.
He wasn't alone.
A woman clung to his arm. A bitch. A skanky bitch. Who was she? Where had she come from? I knew nothing about her. Suddenly the jackhammer in my chest turned into a vice, crushing my heart in its grip. I thought I knew everything about Tex O'Malley but she wasn't even on my radar.
I sank down on my heels, my arms folded on my knees and sobs rising up in my throat. I wouldn't let those sobs develop into full-blown crying. This was way beyond tears. This was curling up on the ground and dying.
I couldn't see that manky bitch properly but she hardly seemed like she was Tex’s type. I didn't know what his type was but I figured it'd be someone like a model or that chick who managed the band. Slick and polished. The woman with him was short and had a big butt and wild red hair. She was most certainly not good enough for Tex.
Maybe she was a minder or someone who worked for the festival, thinking she could cling on to him. He didn't look like he cared about her that much.
I stood up and dusted myself off. I didn't have to worry about her. She was hardly competition.
In the distance, I saw Tex and the girl get in a van and drive off. No matter. I'd have a better plan for the next day.
But, when I got back to the taco van, Fred was NOT happy. His face was puffed up and red, in a way that ruined his cool. Even his beard wobbled as he yelled at me.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"
"I got lost on the way to the toilets." That was so close to the truth, it almost wasn't a lie.
"Bullshit. You've been skivving off. I've had to pack up the whole van myself."
"Sorry. I'll help. I'll do the rest..." I pleaded. I needed to be in his good books and I had no pride.
"I've finished now. You're fucking useless. Give me the pass back. I'll get someone else." He ran his fingers through his beard.
"No!" I clutched onto the lanyard around my neck. "You can't have it."
I cried then. I really cried but nothing moved his stone-cold hipster heart.
He lunged for me, grabbing at the lanyard. I struck out at him. I reckon I had about 20 kilos on his skinny little hipster arse and I had the fire in me. I whopped him up the side of the head.
"Bitch!"
A few heads turned to look. I glanced towards the exit, gauging my chances of making a run for it. I was still rat shit from running before. I never run so running twice in one day would kill me. I had no idea what he'd do though. Do hipsters run? He was wearing those tight skinny
I inched closer to her to listen but she'd hung up. "He stormed off," she'd said. Had she meant Tex? There was no music from the stage area.
She was definitely talking about Tex.
Shit, was she Tex's manager? I recognised her from my internet stalking. She was going out with that guy from that other band. I never understood that. When she was that close to Tex, how could she look at anyone else?
She’d said he'd stormed off. I'd missed him. I ran back the way I'd come, hoping to get a glimpse of him before he left. My feet flapped against the black rubber mats laid out on the ground as I picked up my pace. I had to get to him. Maybe he needed a shoulder to cry on. Maybe he needed support. I'd be there for him.
Then I spotted him.
I nearly tripped over. It was him. It was really him.
He headed towards the exit. My feet spun on the dusty ground as I rushed towards him. I had to catch up to him. I had to touch him and speak to him. When destiny comes a-knocking, you have to grab that opportunity with both hands – and when that is a Tex O’Malley-shaped opportunity, you definitely wanted to grab it.
I gained ground. It was definitely him. He was like no other man alive. My heart felt like a jackhammer in my chest and I wasn't sure if it was from the running or the closeness of him. I could run. I could fly if it meant I would be with Tex.
Then I stopped dead in my tracks.
He wasn't alone.
A woman clung to his arm. A bitch. A skanky bitch. Who was she? Where had she come from? I knew nothing about her. Suddenly the jackhammer in my chest turned into a vice, crushing my heart in its grip. I thought I knew everything about Tex O'Malley but she wasn't even on my radar.
I sank down on my heels, my arms folded on my knees and sobs rising up in my throat. I wouldn't let those sobs develop into full-blown crying. This was way beyond tears. This was curling up on the ground and dying.
I couldn't see that manky bitch properly but she hardly seemed like she was Tex’s type. I didn't know what his type was but I figured it'd be someone like a model or that chick who managed the band. Slick and polished. The woman with him was short and had a big butt and wild red hair. She was most certainly not good enough for Tex.
Maybe she was a minder or someone who worked for the festival, thinking she could cling on to him. He didn't look like he cared about her that much.
I stood up and dusted myself off. I didn't have to worry about her. She was hardly competition.
In the distance, I saw Tex and the girl get in a van and drive off. No matter. I'd have a better plan for the next day.
But, when I got back to the taco van, Fred was NOT happy. His face was puffed up and red, in a way that ruined his cool. Even his beard wobbled as he yelled at me.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"
"I got lost on the way to the toilets." That was so close to the truth, it almost wasn't a lie.
"Bullshit. You've been skivving off. I've had to pack up the whole van myself."
"Sorry. I'll help. I'll do the rest..." I pleaded. I needed to be in his good books and I had no pride.
"I've finished now. You're fucking useless. Give me the pass back. I'll get someone else." He ran his fingers through his beard.
"No!" I clutched onto the lanyard around my neck. "You can't have it."
I cried then. I really cried but nothing moved his stone-cold hipster heart.
He lunged for me, grabbing at the lanyard. I struck out at him. I reckon I had about 20 kilos on his skinny little hipster arse and I had the fire in me. I whopped him up the side of the head.
"Bitch!"
A few heads turned to look. I glanced towards the exit, gauging my chances of making a run for it. I was still rat shit from running before. I never run so running twice in one day would kill me. I had no idea what he'd do though. Do hipsters run? He was wearing those tight skinny
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