Sympathy for the Devils, part 8
Disclaimer: Really. They are footballers, not rockstars.
Summary: Ruud goes to the Ice Devils' autograph signing to meet Ed. Wee! Some adult concepts. Previous part here.
Ruud woke up early that morning. He had to be there and get a good place.
He called in sick to the office-he’d never been that irresponsible before. In fact, in spite of his “bad habit” of listening to music, he’s always been considered a very good worker.
He’d never do something like that, pretend to be sick-but hey, The Ice Devils giving out autographs? Now that was worth it.
Even though the signing was going to start in the afternoon, Ruud knew he had to be there some hours before so he could meet and greet. His pass was the limited, just released edition of the Ice Devils’ album, When Hell Froze Over. Of course, he had bought it as soon as it was released-not to mention he’d had acquired the “Broken Angel” single (Ed’s tattoo on the cover) and had gotten a free poster with his shopping.
So, Ruud went out of his house, poster in his hand, and a bag with every single one of Ed’s albums. He so hoped Ed would sign them for him.
Finally… I’ll meet him…
Well, Ruud didn’t count on one thing: David Beckham’s roaring fans. There was already a crowd of girls (and, yes, some guys) at the door of the record shop by the time he got there. However, many of them didn’t have their albums/passes, so Ruud knew they would be in trouble.
Finally, finally, after what seemed a lifetime, the table that had been prepared for the Ice Devils received the band. The first one to appear was Wayne, taking the first place; he was followed by Gigi, who actually distracted some girls. However, next one was David Beckham, and chaos ensued: amidst squeals, girls tried to break the line and crowd around him, until bodyguards and security personnel created a barrier and threatened to drive away whoever acted disorderly. So, the roaring Becks’ fanbase calmed down a little.
And it was a good thing they calmed down, for then the barrier dispersed and signaled at the bodyguards to let the rest of the band out. And…
Edwin was so tall he was easily spotted by Ruud. He was wearing his hip-low jeans and a Van Halen t-shirt, a leather jacket over it, his blonde hair messy, a smile on his lips… He looked amazing, and Ruud hoped he had not let out a very loud sigh when he saw him. He didn’t want to call that much attention to himself.
Rio was the last one to take his seat besides the smiling guitarist. And Ed really had a reason to smile-after nights of complying with Marco’s lust for him, he felt he was finally keeping his crazy advisor at bay. He was not there-he said he really didn’t want to deal with any number of screaming girls that would chop their heads off for “that squeaky-voiced prick”.
“And, anyways, the tour begins tomorrow night, and you know I’ll be with you,” had been the final reminder, and Ed knew there was nothing to be done about it, except enjoy the hours of freedom he’d have. Knowing Marco, it was almost a fucking miracle.
After some other minutes of waiting, the signing officially started.
Predictable things happened: a girl got out of her place in the line and ran to David-she ended up outside the record store. Some others argued for a long time about how they should be allowed even though they hadn’t bought the album and consequently didn’t have a pass-they were thrown out as well.
Things turned a little smoother then-some members of the press actually took their time to ask for permission for brief interviews after the signing. Ed then recognized someone-the Mexican girl whose name he didn’t remember, and who was straight-haired again. She handed him her poster, kissed him in the cheek, and whispered in his ear a lewd reminder of their fucking in the elevator, something like I’d love to do it again, I work here now but then she was rushed away by another guy who was waiting for his turn-a guitar aficionado who wanted him to sign a cover of a magazine.
That was the division: a bunch of rock fans with tribute albums huddled around Wayne, a big bunch of girls with Becks (though some had drifted off to Gigi, who was enough to divert their attention from the drummer), guitarists with Ed, and several music connoisseurs and critics with Rio (the bassist smiled, satisfied, at all the compliments about his playing). The security personnel were having a rough time rushing the girls away from David, of course-though they actually had to drive a girl away from Ed once: the girl with the glasses he had fucked at his hotel room. I’ve missed you, she said, and was taking her time with the autograph, the picture and the kiss, until she was driven away. However, a wink was all Ed needed to know what she wanted-and his thoughts began drifting away, perhaps to a threesome, by the time the signing was over.
Meanwhile, Ruud was getting closer to meeting his admired man, and more nervous and uncomfortable by the second. He had to admit, even to himself, he’d had drifted away in his mind, some days ago, with those teenage-like, impossible fantasies: getting to know Ed at the signing, calling the attention of the blonde guitarist, maybe… well, a predictable erotic ending. Now, the dark-haired man just shook his head slightly-he’d seen the way Edwin had looked at the girls. Sure enough: it was futile to consider having an opportunity with a man who, at least today (Ruud had heard the rumours of Ed’s bisexual adventures, which got his head spinning) was very into girls.
He was so busy with his disheartened thoughts he didn’t notice he was getting closer-until the girl in front of him walked on, and Ruud saw he was only one step away from Wayne Rooney. Immediately, he started unrolling his poster.
Meanwhile, Ed had drifted off from his happy state to a comfortable routine. He’d gone through a patch of Beckham fans-girls who didn’t even know his name and didn’t really care about him, but that asked him to sign the poster nonetheless. He had complied, writing down his signature, not even bothering to ask her name to the girl in question.
That was why, when a trembling hand suddenly dropped the poster-and right after, five CDs on the table, almost knocking down his bottle of water, he was surprised.
“Hey, mate,” the guitarist spoke, politely in spite of the surprise, “careful with those! We don’t want the poster to get wet, do we-“
However, he stopped when he recognized the CD covers that were facing him. His first eponymous album. Red Light. Strings. Dutch Desire. Even My Broken Fortune.
Edwin lifted his eyes from the table-his blue eyes opened wide.
The owner of the trembling hand (and of a small voice that had whispered something like Please can you) was a young man, his unruly black hair falling messily over his forehead, a wild stubble covering his broad, strong jaw, a sexy, dirty, unshaved look. Could be considered a horse-face, but that didn’t matter to Ed.
In less than a second, the guitarist’s eyes had traveled down his fan’s body. His jacket, tossed carelessly over a tense arm. Its faint muscles could be traced, and there was a certain grace about them. The tight jeans revealed what the loose tee was hiding-a fucking hell of a body, Ed thought-but even the old tee spoke to him.
An old tee with the cover art of Turn on Your Red Light in it. A photoshoot Ed remembered well, because he thought he looked more rockstar-like, more sophisticated. A glance at the dark-haired man’s tee made two things clear for Edwin: that his ears still looked funny in that photoshoot, and that the man who was before him must have definitely been one of his earliest fans-those tees had only been available at the Ajax club, so long ago…
The guitarist looked discreetly at his side-one girl was having the time of her life with David. Good. He didn’t know how much time had gone by, but it looked as if the security personnel wouldn’t rush the sexy man away from him just then.
“Who are these for?” he finally asked, a marker on his long fingers.
“Ruud, please.” Well, at least his voice didn’t sound like a breathless girl anymore.
“Ja,” Edwin smiled, signing the CD covers-Ruud read something like Thank you for supporting me all these years when the guitarist reached My Broken Fortune, but he didn’t have time to be sure-Ed gave him back the CDs, and there was another girl waiting for her turn with David, even though the first one was still taking pictures with the drummer. He’d have to be quick about it.
“A… picture?” was all the dark-haired man managed to stammer out. Ed smiled and signaled at him to get back to where he was sitting-Ruud felt important just then. No other member of the band had done that, and the fans had had to settle with pictures almost on top of the table.
When Ruud was there, Edwin handed the camera to Rio, and positioned himself next to his fan. When his long-fingered hand shot up and placed itself on Ruud’s back, he felt his heart would beat right out of his body and into the guitarist’s hand-for his part, Ed felt, below the tee’s fabric, the strong shoulders, the rippling back muscles of the man next to him.
It all happened in a second, after the picture was taken. Edwin had never been a man to hold himself back, and he knew how to remain calm in moments like this.
“See you after this is over,” he whispered quickly in Ruud’s ear, before sending him away to Rio-girls were starting to crowd around Becks, and even around a Gigi who seemed reluctant at the idea of kissing them (but he did).
Ruud blinked a little. Shit. Had Edwin van der Sar actually said that to him? Or was it his crazy brain, seeing stars…
He was so distracted he didn’t notice the cable of one of the speakers that were playing When Hell Froze Over over and over again was at his feet-so Ruud tripped on it, almost falling on top of Rio, who actually helped him stand upright-however, his bag fell to the floor, and all its contents on the floor.
“Hey, y’ok, m’mate?” the bassist seemed genuinely worried.
Ruud didn’t mind him: he was so worried when he saw his now sacred CDs on the floor he rushed to pick them up, along with his car keys. It was only then that his urgency gave way to embarrassment-blushing madly, the man just threw the poster in front of Rio, and rushed out of the record store towards the parking lot, where he found his car, stuck one of the CDs inside the stereo, and locked himself up inside.
His heart was racing, his mind was fluttering around. Had Edwin van der Sar actually asked him to meet him after… Had it happened? Or had it just been one of his wild fantasies?
Ruud looked at his watch. Four, just past the half hour. The signing would soon be over. It couldn’t hurt to wait and see if he could actually see Ed, could it? It wasn’t certainly a good idea to run away if Ed had indeed asked him to stay-and, even if he had wanted to, his hands seemed too numb for driving.
The chance of a lifetime.
Five o’clock. The last people in line started going out the record store, and Ruud even saw some girls who were driven away, wailing-they had gotten there too late, sorry.
Five, and a half hour gone. Signs, posters and speakers were removed. A van came by and took everything away. The band should go out soon enough…
Six o’ clock. No sign of Ed. Ruud wondered when he had gotten out. Maybe with the van that took the speakers away. Maybe there was a secret exit for VIPs. A helicopter… oh, for fuck’s sake. He’d have listened to a bloody helicopter landing on the building’s roof, wouldn’t he?
Six and a half and Ruud turned on the ignition. Sure enough, it all had been a trick of his mind, a moment of supreme ecstasy that had fooled him with a vivid impression.
He had to stop himself from slamming his head against the wheel when he came to a red traffic light on the way back to his flat.
Sure. Edwin van der Sar asking him to stay after the signing.
Bloody idiot.