My parents were supportive of the gig, even though they politely declined my politely offered invitation to attend. My grades hadn’t slipped and, if anything, I was much happier than I had been before the band started, so there was no reason for them to argue with me about it. When that Saturday afternoon arrived, my mother sent me out the door with “break a leg” sentiments.
The van pulled up, Socks and Edgar having loaded the gear the previous night, and I climbed in the back, feeling the buzz of excitement and adventure. Fern was bouncing in her seat and reached over to hug me, Edgar let out a whoop as Socks pulled away from the curb, and we were on the road. Colostomy Hag was on its way to a show.
I pictured being in front of an audience, finally; the cheering and applause, the lights sweeping over us, how amazing we would look and sound. Maybe Paul already had a bias against us and no one had heard of us, but after tonight that would change. We’d win them all over and show them that we were a force to be reckoned with. Their mouths would drop open when they saw how amazing Fern was on guitar, and I would show them what I could do, and it would all begin tonight.
Socks put on our crappy demo CD as we moved onto the highway and turned it up. I opened the window, feeling the cool air blow on my face, and closed my eyes blissfully. I was reminded of going to the Surgical Carnage show — the first time going out with people I could be friends with, feeling that excitement of fitting in, and here it was again, only better this time — I was in a band, I was a vocalist, and I had a bond with the other three people in the van. We were going to do awesome things. Socks roared along with one of my roars on the CD and punched the steering wheel happily.
xXx
When we arrived in St. Charles late that afternoon and found the Toe, a heavy, sober feeling came over all of us. The music was off, and we were quiet as we pulled into the parking lot. I saw six guys and a few girls milling around, standing next to a parked van.
“Is that them?” I asked.
“Probably,” Socks replied. I studied them through the window as Socks steered the van into a parking space near the other vehicle. They were all looking at us as well, and none of their expressions were particularly friendly. Every single one of them had long black hair, the guys and the girls, and they all wore black, some with wallet chains hanging from their pants, some with spiked wristbands.
“Don’t they look like a friendly bunch,” Edgar murmured.
“They’re probably thinking the same thing about us,” Fern said in as bright a voice as she could muster, but I knew by the way she stared out the window that she wasn’t getting the best vibe either.
Socks hopped out of the van and approached the group. As the rest of us dawdled in collecting our purses and knapsacks, I watched him shake a few of their hands, talking animatedly. I appreciated him making such a positive effort. They looked like a bunch of assholes to me.
The inevitable couldn’t be postponed for very much longer, so I climbed out of the van and forced myself to approach the group. One of the guys walked over to meet me, flanked by two girls.
“Hi, I’m Rachel,” I said. “I’m the singer.”
“Paul,” he replied, making no move to shake my hand. “Singer and guitarist for Heathenistic Bile. These are my girlfriends, Kate and Jennifer.”
I smiled at the two girls, receiving only sour-faced responses in reply. They looked at me almost challengingly. Great. “Nice to meet you,” I attempted.
One of the girls flatly said, “I’m also Paul’s hairstylist.”
I quickly looked at Paul’s rather unremarkable hair and noted that it was long and black and dyed likely out of the same drugstore box as mine. “Girlfriends, huh? Like, you all date each other?”
“Yes,” the other girl purred, sliding a possessive arm around Paul and flashing me a dirty look. I resisted the urge to reassure her that I had no intention of hitting on her boyfriend — sorry, their boyfriend — and instead asked Paul, “So what’s going on?”
“We’re just waiting for the owner to get here so we can load in. He should be about ten minutes or so.”
I nodded. “Are those other guys in your band?”
“Yeah, drummer and bassist. The other three guys are our crew.”