“Because what I said before still stands: if she's on the bus, no more groupies. You guys are not going to start collecting them like souvenir fucking postcards.” “Are you fucking serious?” I ask him in the hazy backstage darkness. Up ahead and to my right, there's a set of steps that lead to the stage. I can hear Rivers of Concrete playing their set now, hear the crowd getting warmed up and ready for us. This is probably my favorite part of the whole night, all the anticipation, the expectation, the excitement. “That's ridiculous. You're not punishing me for a decision that Muse, Cope, and
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