"Are they always this loud?" Rachel screeched at her dorm mate, dodging hair being flung back and forth frantically by a longhaired man standing next to her. Just a second ago his hair had whipped her right in the face and it had hurt, like a bitch. And trying to avoid being overly judgey but failing miserably, Rachel thought it smelled something like dirty straw. In her opinion it needed a shit load of conditioning before he continued mistreating it by head banging.
It wasn't that Rachel didn't like loud music. It was just that this… cacophony of sound was mostly noise. The drums clashed with the bass and the guitars twanged at a decibel Rachel wasn't sure was even legal in this state. It lacked harmony and made her ears bleed. And it couldn't escape the tiny space they were trapped in. There was a stage at the front, a bar at the back and a throng of people swallowing up all the air in the room, and replacing it with the stench of sweat. They were definitely breeching the fire code. But hundreds of enthralled people were shouting back the lyrics as the lead singer screamed, so Rachel figured she was missing something important here.
"You're late." The flashing light that was timed to the beat of the drums lit up Kitty's face. Rachel wanted to tell her that she was late because this venue was impossible to find. Some non-descript warehouse in Bushwick. It was hardly Carnegie Hall.
Kitty either hadn't heard Rachel's earlier question or chose to ignore it. Instead she draped the backstage pass around Rachel's neck and tucked it into her sweater, out of sight. She violently dragged her forward into a thumping mosh pit. Bodies banged against each other and smashed into both of them. Rachel nearly toppled over. Engaging her core, and planting her feet she barely managed to stay upright while everyone, including her newest friend thrashed around her.
Rachel would've never guessed this was Kitty's idea of a fun time. She was a svelte blonde, who yes, mostly wore monochromatic black, but she also prayed daily and routinely ate kale and chickpea salad. Since college had started, Rachel didn't think Kitty had gone to bed later than nine thirty and she hadn't caught any boys in her room past curfew. People were allowed to have dimensions to their personalities, but to be such polar opposites was downright weird. At least it was weird to Rachel. She much preferred people who were exactly as they seemed.
The band launched into a second chorus of the tenth song they'd played. By now Rachel's body had grown numb to the push and pull waves of the crowd. She moved in unison with them, like they were some anamorphous being. They were vibrating in tandem.
Recognising the theme of lost love in the shouty lyrics, Rachel thought the drums were really the standout. Having lost sight of her friend, Rachel spotted Kitty being hauled up onto the shoulders of some random guy. She had never seen him before and she was familiar with most males who had ever invaded their dorm. Not in a creepy way but it was her job, being the R.A and all. And, besides Kitty was adamant she didn't know anyone in New York. She'd just moved here from Ohio. That's why she begged Rachel to come with her. Kitty droned on about this show as a once in a lifetime opportunity and Rachel had firmly decided to take more risks this year. College would soon be behind her.
Even though it had very little to do with her, Rachel congratulated her city on its hidden friendliness. People were often impatient in New York, brutal even to tourists. Rachel couldn't see the stage, or the band, what with the people being thrown around in her general direction but this guy stepped up to help a stranger get a better view and that was cool.
Until it wasn't cool. The random dude's motive became crystal clear. Kitty, perched on the guys shoulders waved her arms frantically, as if she was signalling for attention. Then without any finesse whatsoever, she reached down and pulled the hem of her band shirt up, exposing her bare chest to all around. Rachel was no prude, and usually had no problem with nudity – she'd seen a student performance of Hair! But Kitty's expose had set off a boob chain reaction all around.
It was freaking boobageddon.
Rachel gasped, shocked at her sudden proximity of so many breasts. Girls of all shapes and sizes, breasts of all shapes and sizes were all swinging in the wind. Or bouncing, depending on their natural or enhanced buoyancy. Didn't girls wear bras anymore, Rachel wondered. She wanted to close her eyes and back right out of the crowded room but that would mean she would be off balance and more likely to tip right over.
The song ended and the lead singer expressed his appreciation for the startling view he must have gotten. He was obviously used to it.
"Thanks, ladies," he bantered with the crowd, his voice laced with laughter, "That never gets old. And guys, don't be douches, what happened in this warehouse, stays in this warehouse, right? Only a bagful of dicks would fuck up any of our girls."
His invisible presence began another song. One with a lot less screaming. Another voice, a smoother, maybe older voice broke in and deepened the song, transforming it. Rachel stood on her tip-toes to try to get a look at the band, especially the owner of the sweet voice, but Kitty slid down the back of her benefactor and grabbed Rachel's hand. This time Kitty was leading her away from the mass of bodies and into a back alley.
The music was muffled from outside the building but the alley was packed with people too. Instead of sweat, the outside air was stale with cigarette smoke. "Its not over," Rachel stated the obvious, her ears ringing, unpleasantly. She may never hear normally again.
"I know," Kitty smiled, taking a swig of a bottle of beer she had mysteriously acquired. She tilted her head towards a queue forming outside a red door. "We want to get in there early though. Give us the best opportunity of being noticed. And getting the best booze."
"You're not twenty-one, Kitty." Rachel tried to turn off the disapproving tone. She'd learned to hide it in her two years of listening to possibly every shameful secret her freshmen confessed. "We should go back to the dorm."
Rachel expected Kitty to be angry but she actually seemed nervous and a little reluctant. It didn't stop her from joining the line of agitated fans. "No. I know I shouldn't drink and I'm sorry but really," Kitty's tone became dark. "An opportunity like this doesn't come along very often. If at all!"
Deciding to inject some realism into the situation, Rachel scoffed. "Kitty, you're eighteen. I know now everything seems far away but they'll be plenty of concerts in your future. This band seems," Rachel swallowed, "adequately talented."
"Of course they're talented! They were on the cover of Rolling Stone this month! How have you never you heard of them? Sebastian Symthe. Sam Evans. Noah Puckerman. Finn Hudson."
Rachel shook her head and whispered, "I haven't." She may have looked the part, thanks to the constrictive black skinny jeans and tall biker boots she'd borrowed from Quinn but her admission would draw the ire of the fans milling around. Especially the ones without a backstage pass.
Huffing, Kitty let out her frustrations. "Rachel," she bit out her name and slowed her words down for maximum impact, "This was a secret show. Only three hundred tickets were sold. Only twenty people got backstage passes. At least a quarter of them will be fan boys. I want to meet my band. I want to be with these guys."
"Be with them?" Rachel asked, confused.
"Don't play dumb. You know I mean sex. I want them to be my first."
"Which one?" she replied, flippantly. She clearly needed to think before she spoke. She needed a sip of Kitty misappropriated beer to calm down. "All of them?"
"One of them. Any of them! All of them! I don't care."
Kitty stared Rachel down, issuing her a challenge. Rachel panicked. None of her R.A training was ever titled 'How to deter any of your freshmen from losing their virginity in a rock star orgy'. And she couldn't leave Kitty here. She had unwittingly taken responsibility of her when she'd agreed to this nightmarish folly. She really couldn't just leave her to the mercy of those screeching barbarians. Sure, she didn't know they were barbarians but she knew the reputation of rock bands. She read gossip blogs, just like everyone else. Money, sex, drugs, groupies.
Hesitating, Rachel realised that's exactly what Kitty was. A groupie.
"Don't you want your first time to be romantic? With someone you love?"
"Is that how it happened with you?" Kitty's eyes narrowed with scepticism.
Rachel's pulse quickened. Kitty couldn't possibly know about her first time. "Yes."
"How did that work out for you?"
Rachel's eyes pricked, shiny with tears but she blinked them away. Her tongue seemed thick in her mouth and her throat had seized up.
Trying a different tack, Kitty said, "I want it to be good. With these guys I know it will be good. At the very least."
There was absolutely no way Rachel could let Kitty go through with this. Inside, with her backstage pass she could speak to about Kitty's ill-advised notion. A manager, a publicity person. Someone who ensured silly girls didn't lose their heads, or other parts of themselves to four rock gods.
"Fine." Rachel rolled her eyes as she took her place behind Kitty in the ever-growing line of fans. Keeping a tight grip onto her backstage pass under her shirt, Rachel tried not to be annoyed by the constant jostling of other fans.
The red door swung open and a huge guy blocked the entrance of the room. He looked bemused as the girls at the front of the line tried flirty words, coy glances and unsubtle groping as a green light, but his threatening physique put the girls off and they slunk away, dissuaded.
The buzz of anticipation grew as the line progressed. Butterflies fluttering in her stomach felt more like dragons somersaulting and breathing fire. Kitty hand her hand so tightly, she was likely to bend the silver rings she had lent Rachel.
"You go first," Kitty hissed and pushed Rachel forward, nudging the behemoth. He could probably snap Rachel in two.
"Uh, here's my pass," Rachel pulled it out from under her sweater. The huge man turned it over, checking the details before he let it drop against her.
"Spread 'em," he growled, making short work of a vigorous pat down. She felt incredibly violated.
"Phone," he barked, holding out his hand.
"Sorry, what?" Rachel's brow furrowed.
"Give. Me. Your. Phone."
"Give it to him!" Some guy in the line yelled at her, eliciting grumbles from the rest of the crowd at the delay.
"Hurry up," Kitty was embarrassed.
Flustered, Rachel put her hand into her pocket and produced her phone. He couldn't take it, she thought. It was her safety rope, her lifeline. He was essentially denying her of a human right. What would she do while Kitty was attempting to seduce the band? It was hers. She needed it.
"You'll get it back when you leave," the guy drawled, with a semblance of understanding at her predicament.
"Okay," Rachel felt the loss acutely.
Without time to get her head around what she was getting herself into, the bouncer hauled her by the wrist and let her go, sending her careening into the room behind him. She lost her footing as the toe of her boot caught on something and she tripped, sprawling over the floor. Backing up on her haunches, she heard laughter and she knew the cackles were directed towards her. Her face flamed and as she lifted her head she came eye to denim-clad groin. She'd literally never been in this position before.
"Most girls tell me their name before they drop to their knees, darling," he mocked.
Instantly Rachel knew he was from the band. Not only from his words, but the arrogance behind his delivery was the tone of someone who was used to getting what he wanted.
He offered her a hand up and she took it gratefully, not at all expecting the strong, warm grip or the classically handsome features. Releasing her hand he propped up her chin with his thumb and forefinger so she'd meet his eyes. He searched her gaze, looking way too deeply into her eyes for two people who'd just met. His eyes dropped to her lips, but then he snatched his hand away.
"You're too sweet for me, sugar," he lamented and stalked off towards the bar. His touch had set off tiny explosions, blood rushing to wherever his hands had touched her flesh.
"Rachel!" Kitty tumbled into her, making Rachel feel each one of the bruises she'd gotten earlier, "Finn Hudson just talked to you! What did he say?"
"Nothing," murmured Rachel, looking for him again. He was watching her still.
"All right. You stay there and I'll get us drinks." Kitty disappeared, but Finn Hudson still had his eyes trained on her. It was a thrilling realisation. Turning away, Rachel noticed Kitty at the bar with her tongue down some guys throat. As she went to put out that fire, Rachel glanced over at Finn Hudson again. He was sitting on one of the couches, a beer between his knees. Some girl was holding his attention now, her hand placed strategically on his upper thigh.
Easy come, easy go. Rachel sighed to herself and went to rescue an ungrateful Kitty.