Eponine hurried along the street, determined not to miss the rehearsal for the band. Though she wasn't a part of the group, it lightened her heart to know that Marius would be there. As ever, he would be oblivious to her as she went on her way as bartender, making drinks for leering customers and cleaning up the remnants from their tables. Still she remained undeterred that one day, he would suddenly take notice of her.
She brushed those thoughts aside as she rushed along the streets of Greenwich Village, pulling her tattered leather coat around her thin frame. She sidestepped the buskers and pavement artists, all trying to make a buck from the passing tourist trade. "Bohemia, bohemia, how many artists have starved for you?" she mused, as she walked past the Village Voice headquarters.
Arriving at her destination, legendary Village venue, The Musain, she sighed her relief. Twenty minutes until her shift began. Time to brush out her hair, and fix the hole in her tattered fishnets. She pulled down on the short leather skirt she was wearing and her snug Zeppelin tee. Bartending here wasn't much of a job, but it provided her with closeness to music, which she surely loved and needs as much as one loves and needs the blood in their veins, and of course it was because of her job that she met Marius.
She looked over now to where he sat, huddled amongst the tables with the rest of the group as they ran through their set for the night. Les Amis was formed as many bands were, at University. In between art classes and legal studies, and the finer details of social studies. A growing anger was beginning to emerge as the gap between the classes widened and inequality reared its ugly head via the Financial Crisis on Wall Street. And it was there, in the halls of learning, a desire for the darkness to end began to rise.
In the dim light she could see them all, as they strummed guitars and set tonight's performance;
Enjolras, the pretty boy frontman of the band. His looks belied his passion for social equality though to Eponine he was aloof, always alone, even in a crowd. He was also almost disturbingly immune to the constant attention of the ever present groupies. He was magnetic in a way all frontmen should be though the few times he had actually registered her existence, she found his intimidating stare seeing things she did not wish to give away.
To his right, sat Combeferre, the lead guitarist and co-writer with Enjolras for the groups' music. Eponine smiled at the peace sign on his shirt, so at odds with the righteous fist in the air pictured on the shirt Enjolras was wearing.
Her eyes settled on Marius. For a girl who considered herself toughened, her attraction to the guy from the right side of the street unsettled her nerves. She couldn't think straight when he was around he was around, even going so far as to spill a drink on a customer when Marius had deigned to look her way. Yet he never really noticed her. Marius was the drummer for the band, and the subject of much teasing due to his habit of glomming on to any social media activism. He was mortified last year when the leader of the KONY 2012 campaign was seen wandering the streets, after Marius had spent countless hours plastering buildings with the movement's posters.
Jehan sat near Marius, penning a romantic ballad that he knew would never make it to the setlist. He was more Celine Dion than John Lennon, but thankfully his talents on the piano far outweighed his predilection for flowery love songs.
Courfeyrac and Feuilly had just arrived, hurriedly taking their places by the group just as Enjolras cued Marius to pound out a rhthym, and on the beat Enjolras raised his voice to sing, "Do you the hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men, it is the music of a people who will not be slaves again"..and trailed off. "So", that's the start of it", he said to the group, "What do you think?".
Well it's no 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' but it's got the beginnings of something catchy", said Combeferre. Eponine smile ruefully and shook her mane of hair, she hoped all that inspiration would not lead the group to danger. Walking to the end of the bar, she signalled to the head waiter, Grantaire to bring the boys a round of drinks, bar Enjolras who had put in a standing order for water with a slice of lemon.
It was ironic that Grantaire was such an efficient server of alcohol, since his greatest claim to fame outside the club was being known as the biggest boozehound in the Village. And he was prone to appear at unlikely times, always when Les Amis were on the premises, but not always when he was scheduled to work. Again, another half-smile appeared on Eponine's face.
Time to go see if she could garner some attention from Marius….