“Fuck that guy. Rachel, you’re fucking amazing.”
I grinned and made my way towards the stairs. On the way I passed one of the club employees carrying a case of beer. He grinned and nodded at me. I had totally won respect, and all I had done was treat an asshole the way he deserved to be treated.
In the bathroom upstairs, I did truly look awful when I saw myself in the mirror. My eye makeup had streaked down my face in rivulets to my chin, and my lipstick had somehow smeared up my cheek to my forehead. But I loved it. I looked like a fighter, like a fucking warrior.
Fern burst into the bathroom at a full run, her face beaming, and grabbed me, throwing her arms around me. “Rachel . . . that was amazing.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Are you okay? Do you feel all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t throw up because I was sick or anything.”
“I know, I know. Just wanted to make sure.” She looked me up and down. “God, you look tough right now.”
I laughed.
“Sorry I didn’t jump down there and help you. I didn’t really know what to do,” she said.
“It was fine. I was okay by myself. I’m glad you guys kept playing. It made it even more awesome, like it was no big deal. If you’d stopped playing, that totally would have ruined it.”
“Rachel, you’re crazy,” she grinned. “I love it.”
I rinsed my mouth and wiped my eyes, but I didn’t bother fixing my makeup. Fern and I went to join Edgar and Socks at the back of the club. The plan had been that once our gear was loaded off, we’d try to sell some of our CDs. We found Edgar and Socks sitting at a table with the box of CDs and a few people milling around. Torn Bowel had just gone on, and I couldn’t help but gaze a little bit at Jamie as we made our way over to the guys.
People were buying CDs, handing their money to Socks, and Edgar smiled at me as I sat down beside him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“That was pretty gross,” he said. “I’m glad you did it though. For a second I wondered if I was going to have to jump down there and break it up.”
“Nah, it was fine.”
Socks turned to us. “We’ve sold a bunch of CDs,” he said. “I think everyone liked the show a lot. People asking about the band and stuff. And definitely asking about you,” he said to me.
As if to punctuate this, I looked up to see two girls standing by the table, smiling at me.
“Hi,” I said.
“You were awesome,” one of the girls said. “When’s your next show?”
“We’re on tour right now,” I said proudly. “Tomorrow we’re playing in Bridgeford.”
“Oh, well, that’s too far away for us, but if you ever come back to Port Claim, we’ll be here,” she said. “I’m going to buy one of your CDs.”
“Thanks,” I said, and as she moved over to talk to Socks, her friend stepped forward.
“I just want to say I think it’s awesome what you did,” the girl said shyly, looking from me to the floor nervously.
“We can’t let people push us around,” I agreed.
“I know. That guy was a jerk. I think you’re awesome.” She gave me a tiny smile.
I couldn’t help but lean across the table to hug the girl. “Thank you so much,” I said. I felt like a damn celebrity or something. She bought a CD as well. Socks grinned, flashing me the small stack of bills we’d made, and my face started to hurt from smiling so big.
Billy announced from the stage, “This next song is for our friends in Colostomy Hag. Usually it’s called ‘Fingernailed,’ but tonight we’re going to call it ‘Suck My Puke.’” Everyone cheered and we laughed.
I leaned back in my seat beside Edgar. “I wonder what happened to that asshole.”
“He got thrown out,” Edgar reported. “I guess the security guy at the door didn’t see what happened onstage, so when he saw the guy, he thought he was too drunk and had puked all over himself.”