I don't own Adam or Tommy, or the others!
I was born with cat ears and a tail. Cliché, but I can't help it. A light blond, to match my natural hair color, my ears sit high on my head. Oddly enough, I was born with normal ears too, but they've never worked. The tail is mainly the same color with a tuft of black at the end.
As you can guess, I've always had to hide these traits. A beanie takes care of the ears, but the tail is a bit tricky. It took a while, but I found that if I wear skinny jeans, the tail can be made to go along the inseam. It takes a while longer to get dressed and it's severely limited my chances with the ladies, but it's all I can do.
I play guitar for a living. Well, I try, but I haven't been having much luck lately. It seems most people don't want a guitarist that looks so emo. Emo. I can't help but roll my eyes at that. It's not like changing the color of my beanie helps. I've tried and it only makes people look at me like I'm stupid. Although, it probably doesn't help that I tend to wear Creepers and make-up. Yeah, that doesn't do anything for me. I also have problems with people thinking I'm gay because of the way I dress, and that's more than a little frustrating. Oh well. I like my sense of style.
I've recently been told about a guy looking for some band mates for a tour. Glamnation. It's a funny name, but it tells me that the guy won't have any problem with make-up on a man. I call in, make an appointment, and start practicing a piece I think he'll like. "Chica Bomb" is one of the sexiest songs I know and, from what I've been told, it sort of goes in line with what this man, Adam Lambert, wants. I just hope he'll look past the clothes.
I walk into the studio and take a seat. There's a guy playing something that sounds like it's supposed to be "Art School Girlfriend", but the dude's tempo is way off. Adam—well I'm guessing it's Adam if the glitter eye shadow is anything to go by—is sitting at the table with a rather round man and trying not to roll his eyes. He's caught the slight lag in the notes. I try to hold in my smile as I look at the other guys waiting.
One looks like a total poser, freshly dyed hair, sloppy make-up that looks like it's his first ever application, and skinny jeans so tight that they left the poor man squirming in his seat. Another is completely covered in mallgoth attire. It's almost amusing how comfortable this guy looks with a collar bearing sharp, three-inch spikes. It's nice to see someone being so cool with themselves.
The last has me balking. He sits there, without an instrument, with a blank stare. He's got guts, but I don't think that'll get him the gig.
Mr. Poser starts up with a mangled version of "Marigold" and is stopped before he can get very far in. It kills me to hear it played by such a hack. Seriously, I have to keep adjusting my beanie to be sure my ears aren't twitching enough to make them obvious. Mr. No-Guitar gets up and walks out about a few seconds into it with a dreamy look on his face. Weirdo.
Mallgoth himself stands up and starts shredding across his guitar. It's no song I've ever heard before, but it really hurts my ears. I lean forward, place my elbows on my knees and press my ears as flat against my head as I can. The strings are squealing with the rapid chord changes and it sounds like the D string is so old it'll break soon if it's not changed.
My mind wanders a bit as I try not to think of the sounds bouncing off the walls and, before I know it, Adam is shaking my shoulder to get my attention. I rise, blushing lightly, and grab my guitar. I plug into the small amp and play a few quick chords to make sure I'm still tuned up. When I hear that they all have that sweet ringing quality that can only be achieved by a perfectly tuned guitar, I look up.
"Go ahead Mr. Ratliff. I'm ready for you." There's a slight glint in Adam's eye when he says this and I smile before tapping out the tempo with my two inch Creepers. I get through the first half of the some before I'm stopped. "That's great, Mr. Ratliff."
"Tommy." He smiles a bit before nodding and repeating my name. "Is there something else you want to hear?"
"No, I just have a question or two." I nod a bit to let him know I'm all for it and he asks the first one, "Do you play any other instruments?"
I feel my brow furrow, "Not really."
The smile on Adam's face fades before he asks, "Would you be ok with learning bass? Monte here is my guitarist and I just didn't have the heart to tell y'all." He gestures to the rounded man and I nod quickly.
"Of course."
"Cool! I look forward to working with you." He stands up abruptly and I start to pack up. After he's gone, I pull off my beanie and let my ears air out a bit. They twitch slightly at a noise just outside the door and I rush to pull the covering back on, but am too late. Adam walks back into the room and sees one of my ears. He stops dead and stares at me.
"I'm sorry! I really should go." I shove the hat onto my head and start to jog out the door before I realize I've left my guitar lying on the table. I turn around and grab it, only to turn back around and run right into the singer. He's got a weird look in his eyes and I can't stop the flinch when he raises a hand to pull the hat off of my head.
He looks at my ears with almost a look of wonder playing across his face before he speaks. "Are they real?"
"Yeah." His fingers play across them and I'm frozen in place. He looks down at me and smiles.
"You'll be my pretty little kitty on the bass, then." Adam leans in a bit and presses a quick kiss to my cheek before turning around to leave the room. He calls back over his shoulder, "First practice right in here on Tuesday at ten. You be sure to be here, alright, Glitterbaby?"
Pet names. I've got two already and it feels a bit unfair to him so I call out after him, "Of course, Babyboy. You can always count on your pretty kitty to come on time."
He laughs at my silly remark before walking out the door and I feel a fluttering in my stomach. Guess I'll have to think about how he and I will end up, but that can wait for later. Glitterbaby and Babyboy. I think I like that. I slowly make my way out the door, my head full of thoughts of a certain raven haired rocker.