“Hey, Paul! Great show,” I trilled, ignoring the girls, who glared at me in sync as if someone had pushed a button.
“Thanks,” he said casually. I could tell he was surprised by my confidence. I guess he had assumed I would be demoralized after our lousy performance — which, in fairness, I had been — but watching their set had put me in such a great mood. I grinned at him, and I fed off the impression I was gathering that he was slightly intimidated by me. “You guys rock,” I gushed. And I turned to Kate and Jennifer, smiling. “And wow. You girls are so sexy.” My sarcasm impressed even me, and I knew I was being a bitch, but I wasn’t like Edgar. I didn’t feel like I needed to get along with everyone we met. This was making me absolutely glow.
Paul tried to rally, raising his nose slightly. “I’m sure you guys will improve. It was a rough show for you, but it was your first, and not bad. It’s not easy to be a singer, or a good frontman.” At this, his gaggle of girls laughed.
I nodded. “To be honest, part of me wants to stop singing and strip down and just dance onstage, really. Maybe it would be a better role for me.”
“Maybe,” Paul snarled.
“Well, give my regards to Blackskull,” I said, allowing my voice to take on a death-metal growl as I said the name. I smiled brightly and then walked out the side door, past their roadies, and through the parking lot to Socks’s van, where I helped Fern, Edgar, and Socks load in our gear.
xXx
Fern and I sat together in the backseat on the way home, Socks and Edgar sat up front, all of us quiet and tired. But my body buzzed. I kept replaying my confrontation with Paul and running through different possibilities in my mind. He’d been so cocky, sitting with the girls, and I wished I’d embarrassed him more. I kept imagining punching him in the nose, right in front of them, and then walking haughtily away. I grinned at the thought of him trying to look cool in front of his harem while wiping the blood away. I stared out the window into the darkness of the passing countryside and weighed the pros and cons of this fantasy scenario. Paul didn’t strike me as the sort to call the cops. And he sure wouldn’t have been able to hit me back. There wouldn’t have been any repercussions.
Socks broke the silence from the front seat. “So how do you guys feel about tonight?”
“I thought it was great,” I announced. “That band sucked so bad.”
“You shouldn’t have laughed,” Edgar said. “That was totally uncomfortable.”
“If you thought that was bad, you should’ve been there after the show,” I bragged. “I went up to Paul and totally told him where to go.” I explained to them how sarcastic I had been, unable to keep myself from laughing as I imitated my Blackskull closing line.
“Oh, jeez,” Edgar grumbled.
“They were terrible,” Socks said, “but we could have done way better.”
“No one was even thinking about us by the time they went on. I mean, they were so embarrassing, they made us look good,” I insisted.
“No, they didn’t,” Socks corrected me. “I agree that they were embarrassing, but that has nothing to do with how we did. I think we should look at how we did, and see how we can improve.”
“Yeah,” Fern nodded from beside me.
“Oh, we’ll do much better next time,” I said dismissively. Of course we all had learned from tonight’s show. I hadn’t forgotten about our performance, but I didn’t want to dwell on it.
“I don’t know how I feel about what you said to Paul,” Edgar said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to burn bridges like that.”
My face got hot. “Burn bridges? What are you talking about?” My voice was rising; I couldn’t help it. “Do you really care if we have a good relationship with that band? You want to play with them again? Give me a break.”