Chapter 2: Mad Ben Stan

Mallory and Stevie strolled into the Civic Center with their concert faces on; cool, wise, not about to take shit from anyone. They’d both carefully crafted their wardrobes to look just enough like they didn’t care and had thrown on any old thing. Mallory wore her lucky black tank top and jeans that were so tight in the rear she wasn’t sure she’d ever get her ass out of them. Four more outfit options had been left sprawled on her bed after she’d rejected them for this one.

The crowd at the Mad Ben Stan concert was interesting to say the least. The band attracted a full-on geek audience. Mallory felt like she’d stepped between a computer seminar and a Star Trek convention. Most of the fans were men; men who probably hadn’t been laid in a long time, if ever. A few women dotted the room, but most of them were either clinging to a fortunate geek or looked like they rarely left the company of their many cats.

She wasn’t sure why Stevie was here. She definitely didn’t fit in with this crowd. Obviously she saw something in this band that made it worth her while.

The ladies took their seats in the fourteenth row. Their passes gained them entrance to the meet and greet after the show. Stevie glanced around with a huge smile on her face. She’d talked nonstop in the car about how it was going to be and what she was going to say to Ben Stanovich when she met him. She had it all planned out. And Mallory was going to take pictures.

The show finally started with a blast of green and red smoke. Ben Stanovich strutted out onto the stage in a shiny purple robe and huge yellow clown wig. He screamed out a crazy metal-inspired song and the crowd screamed along with every word. These people were truly die-hard.

Around the middle of the show the band slowed it down and did a few ballads. By this time Mallory was starting to see the charisma that kept Ben Stanovich’s career afloat. He captured the audience’s attention and knew exactly how to keep them on the edge of their seats. As he skillfully crooned a twisted anti-love song Mallory actually began to buy into it. Now she too was anxious to meet this man.

After the second encore Mallory and Stevie rushed to the line for the meet and greet. They waited at a door with twenty or so other people, all clutching their passes in their nervous hands. Mallory sized them up. She and Stevie were definitely the best looking ones there. By far.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Stevie said suddenly. “I’m so nervous. I need a drink.” She looked around for the nearest cash bar. But it was closed. She’d have nothing to calm her crazy nerves.

Then the doors opened. Two middle-aged ladies were tasked with keeping the fans back and checking their passes. Inside was a large room with a bar on one side, a few couches, and a long table full of merchandise. Next to that table was another table where the band members were seated. Ben Stanovich sat at the very end, freshly showered and smiling politely.

“Oh my god,” Stevie hissed. “There he is. He’s right there. You have to take my picture with him. He’s so gorgeous. I don’t know what to say.”
            “Sure you do. You practiced on the ride over and probably at home in front of your mirror. You’ve got this.”

Slowly the line crept along. Each fan took a few minutes to tell the band everything they’d ever wanted to say to them. They took pictures, most of them asking Ben Stanovich to pose with a sarcastic grin or with his arm around them like they were old friends.

Finally it was their turn. They were greeted by each member who in turn signed Stevie’s copy of their latest CD. When they came to Ben Stanovich Mallory readied the camera. She was surprised to feel butterflies in her stomach. She laughed at herself for being so silly. He was just a guy. But he was a celebrity and she’d never been so close to a famous person before.

“I love you,” Stevie managed to squeak out quietly while he signed her CD. He looked up with an awkward, but not surprised, smile. “I mean I love your music. A lot. I’m Stephanie. You’re great.”

Mallory stepped in to save her friend. She could imagine the horror Stevie was feeling inside at not being able to collect herself in front of her idol. “Can we get a picture?”

Ben Stanovich looked at her and grinned from ear to ear. Their eyes met and she felt those butterflies again. Silly. He stood up as Stevie rounded the table to stand with him. She was nearly six feet tall yet he still had a few inches on her. Mallory raised the camera in front of her.

“Wait,” said Mike Something-or-other the Bass Player. He came around the table and held his hand out for the camera. “Don’t you want to be in the picture, too?”

This was odd. She hadn’t seen him offer to take anybody else’s picture. But she obliged and went over to take her place next to her friend.

“No,” Mike said. “On the other side of Ben.” He waved his hand and Mallory followed his orders. Ben Stanovich wrapped one arm around each of them and she felt that damned tingle again. This man had some kind of magical charisma. Mike snapped the picture and Stevie nearly fainted out of Ben’s arm after.

“Thank you,” she gasped.

Mike handed Mallory her camera and motioned to the bar. “There’s an open bar,” he said. “Help yourselves.” Then he winked at her. Not a creepy wink, but the kind that made her giggle inside like a little girl.

The open bar obviously hadn’t been offered to all of the fans. Most of them had left. All that remained were a few crew members, a couple of plastic-looking women in short skirts and two somewhat homely female fans. Mallory and Stevie sat as far away from them as they could. They didn’t want to look like groupies, just have a free drink.

“I made such an ass out of myself,” Stevie sighed as she plopped down on the bar stool. “I acted like a twelve-year-old idiot.”

Mallory shook her head. “He probably thought you were adorable.” She didn’t fully believe that. But she was pretty sure he was used it.

Stevie’s face brightened up again. “I can’t believe I just met him. Did you see how he had his arm around me? I could die.”

Behind them the line for the meet and greet was at its end. The band started to disperse. Mallory turned to look and caught the eye of the hard-edge-looking drummer. He grinned widely at her and winked. This time it was creepy. A minute later when she looked again he was headed their way.

“Oh, crap,” she whispered quickly to Stevie. “That drummer is coming this way.”

Stevie steeled herself against her bar stool and clutched her drink. She could talk to Barry the Drummer. He wasn’t her idol, Ben was. But why was he coming over? And then he was there.

“Hi, ladies.” He stood between them, hand outstretched to Mallory. She shook it. His skin was rough like sandpaper and his New York accent was thick. “How did you like the show?”

“It was great,” Stevie replied. She was apparently no longer twelve. “You guys sounded great.”

He turned from Mallory to Stevie as if he had just noticed she was there. They began a conversation about the music and gigs and blah blah blah. Mallory wasn’t paying attention. She was focused on the small crowd at the end of the bar. Mike the Keyboard Player was sipping a drink and politely listening to one of the homely girls prattle on about something or other. She had huge hair and too much makeup. The poor thing was just trying too hard.

 Jake the Guitarist stood behind Mike and next to the two plastic women who were clearly bored. He wasn’t paying attention to them anyway. He was staring intently at Mallory with a sly grin. He nudged Mike and said something without looking away. Mike looked up and grinned at Mallory as well. What the hell were they up to?

“Mal?” Stevie poked at her friend’s leg. She motioned toward the bartender who had clearly just offered more drinks.

“No,” she replied. “I’m good.”

“Come on,” Barry coaxed. “They’re free. Have another.”

“I can’t. I drove.”

“You can stay the night. I have a room.”

Stevie’s eyes widened and he laughed. “I have an extra bed,” he defended. “I wasn’t being weird.” Yeah, right.

“I don’t think so,” Mallory replied. Other than that last remark he’d seemed pretty down-to-earth. Now she couldn’t tell if he was creepy or just clueless. “I have to work in the morning.”

Barry shrugged. “Can I get your number?”

Mallory nearly fell off her chair. Men rarely asked for her number. Mostly it was because they were afraid of her and the “bitch face” she wore all the time. This guy seemed unfazed by it.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. She wasn’t in the habit of giving her number out to strangers, even if they were known all over the free world as “that guy who plays drums in Mad Ben Stan”.  “We should probably go.”

Stevie, who had been shooting eye daggers at Mallory over this phone number thing, gushed over Barry and told him again how great it was to meet them all. She swiveled off of her stool to hug him, only to catch sight of Ben Stanovich over his shoulder. He was walking right toward them followed by Jake, Mike, and the fan with the big hair. Stevie clutched Mallory’s arm so tight she thought she would break it off.

Ben and the group sat down at the bar and he motioned for drinks. His demeanor was different than when he was onstage. He was quiet and relaxed, not loud and crazy. Mallory had expected him to be obnoxious and to want all eyes on him. Instead he sat quietly while the others buzzed around him. She found herself staring at his profile until he turned his head and caught her. She looked quickly away and color rose to her cheeks.

Stevie couldn’t contain herself. She’d had two drinks and was a little braver than before. She strolled right over to Ben and stuck her hand out for him to shake.

“Hi. I’m Stephanie.”

“I know,” he said slowly. “We just met over there.” He motioned to the folding tables that had been dismantled and now were propped up against the wall.

“I just wanted to tell you that your show was great. You guys rocked. It was great. I just wanted to tell you that.” Here we go again. Mallory had to save her one more time.

“She’s a big fan.” She took her friend by the shoulders and forced her gently back onto her a stool. “She’s just a little nervous.”

“And you?” He looked straight at Mallory. His soft brown eyes seemed to look right into her soul. But that was silly. What a silly, romantic thing to think. Get it together, Mallory.

“No,” she stammered and then regained her composure. “I’m not nervous.”

He laughed. “I meant, are you a fan?”

She blushed again. “Of course,” she lied. Half lied. Mad Ben Stan was starting to grow on her. And he was still staring deep into her baby blues.

He grinned as if he knew she was fibbing. He wasn’t new to the “my friend dragged me to your show” crowd. He opened his mouth to speak again but Barry shoved his way between them, breaking their eye-to-eye connection.

“So, can I please get your number?” He was almost begging now. Mallory felt her cheeks flush. Jake and Mike snickered and elbowed each other. Was this some kind of weird game? Ben just looked down into his drink.

“Fine.” Mallory finally gave in. She didn’t want to show Ben Stanovich her bitchy side.

That’s when Jake the Bass Player decided to put in his two cents. “Why don’t you just give her your number and she can call your phone right now?” Mallory shot him an angry look and he laughed. He had obviously taken the course How To Not Get A Fake Number From A Girl You Just Met In A Bar 101.

So she called Barry and he answered and it was all funny to everybody. Stevie laughed especially hard because she was sitting two feet from her idol and tossing back her third drink. The moment was surreal. A few hours ago they’d been normal twenty-somethings leading dull, boring lives. Now here they were having drinks and laughs with Mad Ben Stein, international dweeb-loved superstars.