"That's it," I said. I could tell she was disappointed, she'd expected something more out of the movies. "He's worked with us in the past." I took a drink of my beer and sat back, sighing happily. We'd trained so hard, we hadn't had a lot of time to just relax and enjoy each other's company in a casual setting. In fact, when I thought about it, it was the first 'date' that Jordan had been on since our first few days in Paris. "Now, sit back and enjoy the music. We can drive to Paris in the morning."
With business completed, Francois relaxed, getting into the spirit of the club. Unfortunately for us, that meant him quickly downing three beers. While that shouldn’t have been too big a problem, Francois forgot a few things. First, German beers are higher in alcohol content than American beer, which he was more used to drinking. Secondly, the glasses were not in British or American sizes, but in metric, so they were larger than what we were used to. Finally, Francois hadn't eaten much that day since breakfast, as nerves and the long drive left him with an empty stomach, and the hot club meant he was dehydrated.
All of that came together to basically make Francois tipsy. He wasn't drunk, I would have cut him off before that, but he certainly wasn't his normal self as the band finished up. "Hey, you guys fucking suck!" he hollered after the light applause died down, his accent stronger than normal under the influence of the alcohol. "My girlfriend can play better than you!"
Now, I'm sure most bands have been jeered before. I doubt you can make it to being a professional musician without someone heckling you at least once. But for some reason, the lead singer of the band took Francois's taunt personally. "Fuck you, Frenchie. You think your side piece can play, then why not put her ass up here?"
The entire club responded to the taunt, confident that Francois's boast would go unanswered. Instead, Francois looked over at Jordan. "Well?"
"I can think of something," Jordan said, giving me a grin. She was being given a chance to be in her element, and she loved it. Shrugging off her jacket, she took to the stage in her leather pants and a tight gray t-shirt. Holding her hands out, the guitarist, who seemed more amused by the whole thing than anything else, handed over his instrument.
"Just a moment guys," she said into the mike, strumming and make a few adjustments. "All right, here's a good classic."
I’d expected something different. In all of her playing for us on the acoustic guitar, she’d done softer things, maybe some lightened versions of hard rock, but nothing really heavy metal. Instead, with a twinkle in her eye and a cocky grin on her lips, she started to play. The first few notes were slow, building, but an appreciative round of applause from the crowd, which was listening with piqued interest, showed me at least they knew what she was playing.
Francois grunted and looked over at me. "Metallica's One."
Jordan never sang, but everyone was shocked when the band's drummer sat back down and started playing along, adding percussion to the song. When the song went from slow and lyrical to hard and metal, Jordan bore down, a feral smile on her beautiful features as she tore into the guitar.
In the weeks of training for the job, Jordan had worked hard with us, and while she'd of course never be a thief, she’d become fitter. Still, she always in my eyes was the soft, feminine, beautiful creature that I held at night on the evenings when she spent time with me instead of Francois. In almost every moment we were together, she was kind, with her mind engaged and a charm to each of her movements that had even Charani and Syeira approving of her. But there on stage she was the powerful one, the angel and warrior and devil all in one, crying out to the heavens with her guitar. The voice of power screamed from underneath her fingertips, and it moved everyone and everything that was within its grasp. It was incredible.
With a final crash of her notes, she stood on stage, sweat glistening on her brow as the hot lights warmed her skin, and I broke into applause along with everyone else in the club. The guitarist from the band, clearly upstaged, accepted his guitar back with humility, but the lead singer, whose big mouth had caused the whole situation, was not so gracious.
Pushing Jordan away from the stage, the singer tried to shove her totally to the sidelines, Jordan stumbling and falling to her butt as she got tangled in the amplifier cords. I was pushing toward the stage immediately as the crowd booed, but Francois beat me there, nailing the guy with a right cross that sent him tumbling to the stage. I was up next to Francois and Jordan immediately, pulling him away while Jordan got to her feet.
"Come on, we don't need a brawl," I said into his ear. Still, I had to nearly drag him away from the stage and out the door. Thankfully, the singer's bandmates didn't feel like pushing the issue, and the bouncers were more interested in us just getting out of the building.
"I know he deserved it, but we can't be doing that," I chastised Francois. He yanked his arms away from me and took a step back, his eyes blazing.
"He deserved worse!” he yelled at me and stormed off. I watched him go, then just shook my head in resignation that he was going to be upset with me.
I turned to Jordan, who watched Francois storm away in fury, then looked at me. "He'll be okay?"