Another breathless sigh escaped Saffi.
It was good not being Saffi March. The real Saffi would never have been able to do any of the things she did. She would never have looked like this in the first place. But this weekend, she was reborn with two simple goals:
Watch Staffan Aehrenthal perform live. Check.
Figure a way to get close to Staffan. Super check.
But after what happened on stage, Saffi dared give herself another goal.
Give Staffan her virginity.
Saffi didn’t care if she was being silly or not. She knew where her life was heading, and it didn’t have any room for something like love. She accepted that, wasn’t bitter at all about it but before making the ultimate sacrifice, Saffi was determined to have this weekend for herself.
So her next strategy: figure out a way to keep her virginity a secret from Staffan until he’s taken it away. He was extremely notorious for not wanting inexperienced women in his bed, and Saffi had a feeling that she was the least experienced female in the entire concert arena right now.
It was a problem she was still mulling over when she stepped out of the cubicle – and found herself staring back at four beautifully dressed women, all of them clearly older than Saffi. Just as obvious was the fact that they were diehard fangirls of Staffan as well since they had wristbands that only Tier II members of Staffan’s official fan club had.
The silence between them lengthened into something tense and uneasy. It was weird how she totally hadn’t heard any of the women come in. Finally, Saffi said with a friendly smile, “Hi.”
No one returned her smile, and Saffi took an instinctive step back when one of the women moved towards her. The other woman wore a black cotton dress, with lacy long sleeves and a knee-length hem. It should have made her look seductive, but her cold eyes made the other woman look more like a jail warden in heels instead.
Warden Chick glared. “You have something we want.”
Saffi stiffened, having no problems understanding what the other fangirls wanted. Her fingers tightened around her backstage pass, clutching it to her chest like it was her lifeline. No way was she going to give this up without a fight. If she did, it could mean that they would be “hand selected” like she had been. She didn’t give a fig about the women who were hand selected in the past, but the thought of Staffan doing the same thing with other women – now – definitely bothered her.
Warden Chick looked at her companions over her shoulder and their cued laughter bounced all over the restroom.
Catapulting catfish! This was not…good. “I, umm, have nothing you could possibly want. You guys are so obviously prettier and more, umm, loaded than I am, so what could I have that you don’t?” She tried sneaking past them, but one of Warden Chick’s companions shoved her back, hard enough for Saffi’s back to hit the wall behind her with a painful thud.
Saffi winced. “Guys, really? Are we seriously going to do this?”
Warden Chick answered her with a rude gesture.
Saffi had never ever been in a catfight in her entire life, but tonight was apparently going to be her first. Her fists clenched. Well, they’d see for themselves soon enough that Saffi was a lot stronger than she looked.
“Don’t make this hard for yourself, groupie,” Warden Chick sneered.
Saffi lifted her chin. “I’m not going to give over what I know is mine.”
The other woman shrugged. “Suits us.”
Saffi held her breath, preparing for a fight for death. But before the women could take another menacing step closer, the door flew open and another batch of women came inside, all dressed in different definitions of skimpy.
Her eyes widened. It was them! The women who had talked her into screaming all kinds of sexual invitations before the concert!
One of the new arrivals glanced at her in surprised recognition. “Hey. It’s you, the one who---” The older woman – whose name was Carmina if Saffi recalled correctly - stopped speaking, her own eyes narrowing when she saw Warden Chick.
Carmina said coldly, “Up to the same tricks again, Mitch?”
Saffi’s jaw dropped. “You…two…know each other?”
“This isn’t your business,” Warden Chick- or rather Mitch – snapped. “So stay out of it.”
Carmina stalked forward, forcing Mitch to step back. “Of course this is our business. Because this girl is one of us.”
Looking at the two of them, Saffi felt like she was watching something straight out of National Geographic, with Carmina an enraged lioness going against a hyena named Mitch.
Mitch sniffed. “Why am I not surprised? You look all the same.” And she coughed under her breath, “Sluts.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what Staffan Aehrenthal likes, haven’t you heard? Unlike you fan girls.” Carmina coughed ‘bad in bed’ under her breath.
This was probably a good time to make it clear that Saffi had started out as a fangirl but had decided to convert to the groupies’ religion for her nineteenth birthday because Staffan Aehrenthal liked his women slutty. She opened her mouth to speak, but the two other women beat her to it.
“Take that back, whore,” Mitch shrieked.
“Not on your life, you fugly hag!”
All of a sudden, Saffi found herself in the middle of a hair-tearing, nail-clawing catfight, literally untouched but surrounded by screaming and hissing women. She gasped when one of Mitch’s followers made a swipe at her backstage pass, taking Saffi by surprise. She quickly tried to grab it back, managing to catch a corner of the card. The other woman pulled it back at the same time.
The tearing sound put a halt to the entire fight, everyone gazing at the torn backstage pass in Saffi’s hands.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Mitch’s giggle sounded as awful as a squealing mouse caught in a rat trap. She pulled out something from her bag. “Good thing me and my girls have this!” She waved a backstage pass at Saffi, making her gasp.
“Why?” Her tone was heavy with confusion. Saffi couldn’t understand at all why Mitch had taken such lengths to get her pass when all of them apparently had one already.
Mitch’s laugh was incredulous. “You really had to ask?” She threw Saffi and the others a look of disgust. “Because groupies like you don’t deserve to be near Staffan.”
It was, Saffi had to admit, a great exit line, and all she could do was blink back tears as Mitch and her companions headed towards the door. All she could see was Staffan Aehrenthal hand-selecting Mitch and company. The thought made her sick. She had to think of a way to get inside the backstage area. Surely the bouncer at the exit remembered her face? Surely Staffan himself would remember her? Right?