After a little while I heard a small cheer from the crowd, muffled and faraway. I remained seated, rubbing my eyes with my hands, smearing my stupid makeup, not like it mattered. Through the walls I heard Heathenistic Bile begin their set.
The bathroom door squeaked as it swung open, and I heard footfalls on the tiles. Whoever it was walked slowly across the floor and paused.
“Rachel?” It was Fern.
I took a shuddering breath. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Not really.” I cleared my throat and sat up straight. “What’s going on?”
“They just went on,” she said. “You should come check it out.”
“Where’s our stuff?”
“We packed it up. It’s sitting next to the door. They won’t let us load out until the band is offstage. I guess it’s too loud to open the door.”
“Sorry I didn’t help pack.”
“That’s okay.”
I opened the stall door. Fern was leaning against the sink counter. She looked tired, her makeup smudged as well. She smiled at me. “They suck, if it makes you feel any better.”
“Worse than we did?”
“In a different way than we did.” Her smile faltered, throwing her face into a lopsided grimace. “Don’t feel bad. We tried. It was our first show.”
“I was terrible,” I muttered. “I just stood there.”
“It’s okay. Next time will be better. We can’t expect to have an amazing show right off the bat.” She touched my arm, and I appreciated it, but I knew that she had to be pretty disappointed in me. I was supposed to lead onstage, step up and take control of the show, exude confidence and spearhead everything. And I hadn’t. All my fantasizing in my room had turned into nothing but a joke. I sucked.
“I don’t know if I can go out there,” I said. “Are the guys mad at me?”
“Why would they be mad? No one’s mad.”
“What about the crowd?” The thought of walking back out there made me feel sick. A memory of the headbanging guy making fun of us flashed in my mind, and my stomach ached sharply at the image of it.
“No one cares. They’re all watching Heathenistic Bile. And I really think you should check them out.”
I sniffled and smoothed out my skirt. A glance in the mirror showed my hair was frizzy, my makeup was smeared, and I looked like shit in general. “I look awful.”
“You look tough. Now please come back out.”
I followed Fern back into the club, and Socks and Edgar were standing at the back. There seemed to be a few more people in the place, and everyone was crowded up at the front by the stage. Still, the place was mostly empty — nowhere near the number of people that Paul had smugly predicted.
“Great show!” Socks cried when he saw me, and yanked me into a hug.
“Thanks,” I replied and smiled weakly. I knew he was just being his sunshiney self and trying to make me feel better, but I did appreciate it. Edgar hugged me too, and I was relieved. Part of me had seriously worried that they would be angry at me for failing so bad.
“There’s no one here, really,” I observed, looking around the club.
“Probably mostly their friends,” Socks agreed. “Have you checked this out yet?”
I focused my attention on the stage. Heathenistic Bile was headlong into their set by this point, and all of them were wearing white facepaint with black ringed eyes and mouths. Their bass player and Paul, of course, were freaking out, whipping their hair around and leaping. It would have looked cool except for the fact that their two guitar players weren’t matching the energy.
Kate and Jennifer, Paul’s two girlfriends, were also onstage. They’d changed into shiny black vinyl shorts and fishnet stockings with high boots and halters made of the same cheap material. Both of them had their eyes screwed shut and heads thrown back, expressions of ecstasy on their faces, and they swung their arms and ran their hands through their hair as they tried to gyrate sexily to the fast beat. It completely didn’t work, and I couldn’t help but grin.