I run my hand over my face, frustrated that I don’t know what I’m talking about. “You play for them, right?” he nods. “So when they get signed with an agent or a record deal, do you continue to play with them or do they move on?”
Harrison fiddles with his lip ring and as much as I don’t want to stare I am. You don’t see those in Beaumont. Hell, you don’t see people like Harrison there at all. That town is so pretentious and in need of a serious culture overall.
“I want to be in a band, but the right one hasn’t come along. The people who perform here usually have their own ideas about music and are trying to make it as an artist. I’m an afterthought and just here to add the extra beat or rhythm to their set. The agents in here, they aren’t looking at me, they’re looking at the singers. Drummers are a dime a dozen around these parts. I’m going to go get ready. Take a seat up front and when we’re done, just come back stage.”
Harrison walks away before I can acknowledge him or ask him any more questions. I look back at the crowd forming outside, unsure how to respond. I could fail at this and have to go back home with my tail between my legs to face the music so to speak, but it’s worth it to try. At least it is to me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the dark, blank screen, which indicates that there are no missed calls or voicemails. She still hasn’t called, nor have I called her. I don’t know why, either. I should call he
r, but I don’t know what to say. Telling her I’m sorry doesn’t seem like it’s the right thing to say and trying to explain myself will fall on deaf ears. I tried to show her this side of me and maybe I should’ve tried harder. Maybe I should’ve shaken her until she opened her eyes, but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have to. She’s supposed to love me, not the idea of me or what I can do to secure her future by my side.
I put my phone back and shake my head. With each day that goes by, the decision I made becomes easier and easier to deal with. As much as I want things to be different, as I look around this club, she doesn’t fit in here. She would be uncomfortable and on edge and I need to focus on me and making this happen.
The doors open and people rush in, vying for seats up front. I’m taken back by the onslaught of people. Whoever this band is, they have a large following and I like it. I like knowing the potential is out there for me. I just have to work hard to achieve my goal and that’s something I can easily do.
My goal – the words resonate in my head. I never thought I had a goal until now, but I do. I want this to be my crowd. Not tomorrow night and maybe not next month, but this will be my first milestone and I like that I have something to work toward, a milestone that I can take back to Beaumont and show her that I’m good at something other than football. I need to prove to her that I left for the right reasons, whether she wants to believe me or not.
Harrison and Burke come out on stage, followed by two girls who I assume are in the band. The people move faster, racing for seats. The lead singer stands in front of the microphone with her legs standing shoulder width apart. Her hair is straight and long and a very vibrant red. Nothing about her seems real except for the way she’s carrying herself. I sit down and watch as she gives orders to her female counterpart, and to Harrison and Burke as well. Everyone seems happy and poised for performance.
The lights dim and the crowd comes alive. The chanting of their name – it’s what I want. My heart races for them. My palms sweat with excitement and I’m not even on stage, but they are and they’re living a dream. I scan the patrons briefly; wondering if any are agents or scouts looking for new talent.
A guitar strums and I swivel back toward the stage. Sticks clank together four times before Harrison’s arms move quickly and bang onto his drums. The crowd screams as the music starts and the lead singer takes hold of the microphone. The way she clutches it in her hand shows me that she’s in charge. She owns the stage with her music and that is something I haven’t grasped yet. She’s putting on a show and I need to do that as well.
My eyes wander between her, Harrison, Burke and her guitar player. Each one of them commands a presence with their own craft. The lead singer moves across the stage, tempting her fans with the way her hips sway, the way her leg bounces as she belts out the lyrics to her song. They respond in kind by grappling for her, begging for her attention. She is what I need to be. I can’t be this lump of body mass sitting on a stool singing about a love that I had and lost due to my own actions. I need to re-invent myself. I need to figure out how to command a crowd and bring them to their knees because that’s what she’s doing now. They’re eating out of her palm and she loves every minute of it.
I’m going to love every minute of it.
Chapter 29
As this singer, whose name I need to learn, finishes her last song, the crowd is showering them with thundering applause and I can’t help but join in. The band deserves it, each one of them, including Harrison and Burke. This is the first time I’ve analyzed a performance. Watching MTV does nothing for you when you can sit next to the stage and watch every single movement, hear the reactions from the audience and feel the vibration coming off the instruments. Each action is being cemented into my brain. This is what I needed to take my next step.
The lights dim, but the fans get louder. I can’t help joining in with the celebration. I cup my hands over my mouth and scream loudly, begging them for an encore. The deafening cheers are enough to bring them back on stage. I look around and see just how infectious the singer is to her capture audience and that sentiment is returned when they look back at her. It’s pure admiration.
They leave the stage after finishing three more songs and the lights come on. This must be Trixie’s cue for people to start leaving. Metro is so different from Ralph’s; it’s like night and day. Ralph’s is home drinking where people will spend hours just sitting at the bar telling Ralph, the owner, all of their troubles. Metro is art deco and Trixie doesn’t care if you want to linger, you’re in and out.
It’s time to move on.
I walk backstage as Harrison suggested. As soon as I open the door I’m greeted with laughter. So much so, that I can’t help smiling as soon as I walk into the room. The lead singer is shaking a bottle of champagne and lets its contents fly, dousing the room with sticky liquid. The excitement in the room is contagious and it leaves me wanting this for myself. I know I could’ve had it with football. Winning the big game for college or NFL – that’s what it’s like to be a part of a family, but it’s not the family I want. I want this one or something similar. I want to be close to the fans and feel their elation permeate off them and onto me.
“What did you think?” I turn at the sound of a captivating voice beside me. The lead singer is standing next to me offering a beer to me. I take it with a smile and bring the cold, dark glass to my lips. The amber liquid is a welcome taste and one that I’ve missed sharing with my friends these past few months. I haven’t dared drink in front of my grandmother for fear she’d disapprove and for some reason her approval is incredibly important to me.
“What’s your name?” I ask, avoiding her question. Since I’ve become acquainted with her on stage, it’s only right that I know her name.
She smiles and turns away. Her grin is infectious and I find myself smiling against the lip of my bottle. There’s something wild about her, you can see it in her eyes. They’re honey colored and twinkling in the bright lights above our heads. She winks and that reminds me that I still don’t know her name.
“A…” The words lodge causing me clear my throat. I look down at my shoe and shake my head. When I look up, I quickly realize that this girl could be trouble. Her lower lip is pulled into her mouth. Her eyes are bright, glossy. “Are you going to tell me your name?” I ask again, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I need to snap out of it. This isn’t me. I’ve never acted like this with a girl before. Not even her and honestly it feels wrong to be this way now. I take a step back to put some space between us, only she steps forward so we’re almost body to body.
“My name’s Layla,” she reveals as she offers her hand and being the gentlemen that I am, I take it in mine and shake. When I let go she slowly traces her nails along my palm sending chills up my spine. “Did you enjoy the show?”
I nod, unable to find any words. I’ve heard stories about women who go after what they want, but have never seen any in action. I’m eighteen and fairly inexperienced and I have a distinct feeling the enigmatic being standing in front of me will eat me for a snack.
“I learnt a lot.” I close my eyes in embarrassment. I bring my hand to my forehead to knock some sense into myself but realize that’s probably pretty childish and right now I need to be a confident, self-assured man, so I run my hand through my hair casually. “Your show was jammin’.”
Layla laughs and shakes her head. “It’s a set and no one says jammin’, but I’ll forgive you if you come out with us tonight.”
“Us?”
She turns and waves her arm out over the room. I look around and my eyes find Harrison, who tips his beer at me. I return the sentiment, thankful that he’s brought me here.
“All of us. We’re going to a dance club down the street.”