Crash.
Steve mentally added five hundred dollars to the expenses for this gig.
Crash.
Dammit. Another hundred. They were going to be lucky to break even.
Wham.
Steve softly banged his head against the wall backstage, wondering where in his life he went wrong to end up here. Oh, that's right. He failed the bar. Three times. But still. It would have been nice if Tony had gotten him a better job than a manager for possibly the most destructive rising band, Cold in Winter.
A sigh of relief. Steve recognized the last song as their finisher, one that would leave the crowd wanting more. More as in the CDs and band merchandise at the front of the club. If tonight "more" meant another song Steve might start smashing things himself.
Ask Steve a year ago, while he was still in law school, what he thought of managing a band, and he would have laughed. Steve had his life laid out before him: graduation, then a job with his friends Nelson and Murdock, marrying his girlfriend Peggy, and finding a nice place to live in Brooklyn. All he had to do was get through the bar. And that just didn't happen.
It wasn't that Steve didn't know the laws or proceedings. He recited the Constitution instead of counting sheep before bed. And it wasn't that he was a bad test taker either. He had ridden all through school on A's, even being valedictorian at his high school.
Something was just different about the bar. Each time he sat down to take the test, he suddenly felt like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole, and utterly wrong.
Peggy had never said that it bothered her, but he could tell the signs. Besides, she was joining the Peace Corps, and long distance relationships never worked out. They parted as friends and still talked every once in a while. However, parting as friends didn't stop Steve from moping at Tony's place for a week, until he forced Steve off his ass and working for his music label. And here he was.
"ENCORE. ENCORE. ENCORE. ENCORE."
Steve pressed his face into his sleeve and wept. Goodbye budget. Goodbye food.
"Alright guys," James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, lead singer crooned, "here's a little one just for you."
Steve massaged his temples as the venue full of teenage girls squealed. Why him.
Bucky nodded towards Natasha Romanoff, lead bass, and Loki Laufeyson (Steve KNOWS that has to be fake) on drums. A half smile edged across Natasha's face, as her fingers gan to caress the strings of her guitar.
be Steve was drawn in as he began to hear Bucky on guitar. The song was familiar, but definitely not something the band wrote. Steve's foot began tapping subconsciously, as he tried to place the rhythm. Ah yes. REM's "Losing My Religion". Steve was surprised. He didn't realize that the band was familiar with older songs, let alone appreciated them. He was even more surprised when Bucky's voice crooned the lyrics, softly at first.
"That's me in the corner," Bucky crescendoed. "That's me in the spotlight, losing my religion."
Steve closed his eyes and tried to relax to the music. This job wasn't so bad, he reminded himself. It was certainly better than laying around on Tony's couch. Steve drummed his fingers against the wall and took another look at the audience. He watched as a girl flashed her bare breasts at Bucky. Phenomenal. Faith in humanity gone.
He turned his focus back to the band. They weren't necessarily bad, but it was far from his type of music. They typically wrote songs that 13 year olds in their "edgy" phase would love, but every once in awhile Steve gets surprised. Tonight was certainly one of those times. Steve was snapped out of his train of thought by the tap of his shoulder.
"Steve!"
"Hey, Tony."
Tony Stark was very rich and was the kind of person to show it off. From his designer three piece suit to his designer sunglasses, he was quite the antithesis to Steve's frayed denims and thrift store button up. But even if Steve was a lawyer and was making a hefty salary, he still didn't think that he would spend as much money or time on clothes as Tony did. Regardless of their differences, Tony was Steve's best friend and Steve knew he had his back.
"Hard to believe they started off in a garage, huh?" Tony asked with a smirk.
"I suppose," Steve admitted, "But I guess it's not really my type of music."
"That's right, you like grandpa music. I personally like the music that makes me money."
"They've released like one album, Tony. And it was far from golden."
"It will be, Steve. Trust me on this one. I've got an eye for potential. That's a compliment for you, by the way."
"Yeah, some potential. Where exactly is my law degree?"
"Relax, Steve. It probably wasn't meant to be."
Steve crossed his arms. "It felt like it was."
"Everyone hits some bumps in the road along the way. And if you can find a better paying job with your current status, be my guest to leave. But until then, you get to enjoy cleaning up this financial mess."
"Don't remind me." Steve rubbed his temples. "I'm thinking we're down a thousand in repair costs."
"Ha! That's nothing. We'll make that back in increased music sales alone, not even including the mass amounts of tickets we've sold for tonight. Don't be so worried." Tony paused for a second, studying Steve's pouting face. "Aha! I know what this is. You're just jealous you weren't their manager earlier, taking some of that oh-so-sweet commission. Don't worry Steve, once they hit golden you'll be raking it in, like me." Tony waggled his eyebrows.
"It is DEFINITELY not the money. It's just, I don't know…" Steve studied the band. "I just never saw myself here."
"Isn't that part of the fun? The thrill of adventure!" Tony winked. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some asses to kiss," he remarked, turning with a wave.
"Bye, Tony."
"MAKE ME MONEY, STEVE."
Steve turned his attention towards the stage, where the band was exiting. The crowd was still screaming, despite the absence of anyone on stage. He sighed. Hopefully they wouldn't break anything else.
The band brushed past Steve as he fumbled for his tablet. He hated the way they looked at him, like he was a fresh piece of meat. Of course, it could all be in his imagination and they might not have anything against him. But it was extremely difficult to tell with all that eyeliner.
Steve sent a few emails on his tablet, and then went to help the stagehands clear the stage and the venue. It wasn't part of his job; he just wasn't particularly looking forward to getting back to the tiny tour bus Cold in Winter called home. It reminded him too much of the dorm rooms of college. Steve was going to make sure that there was a place in the budget for a much nicer, much larger one in the future.
…
Cold in Winter's tour bus was a repurposed one that had once been the go-to vehicle of a mariachi band, and before that, served as the dormitory for four college students who thought it was ridiculous to pay so much for housing. As such, it was an absolute hunk of junk. Steve prayed every time they attempted to start the engine that it would not break down in the middle of nowhere. His prayers were not always answered.
The cabin of the bus was far from homey. Apart from the smell, there were two sets of bunk beds that were rickety and once been painted a vibrant yellow. Natasha had attempted to take care of it with black spray paint, and the smell had never gone away. Loki and Natasha slept in one set of the bunk beds, which left Bucky and Steve on the other set. And of course Steve got the top bunk, where he tended to get nosebleeds and got to listen to the oh-so-sweet melody of Bucky's horrible snoring. Needless to say, Steve did not sleep particularly well.
Steve quietly unlocked the door to the bus and snuck inside. Surprised that the band was all asleep, Steve checked the clock. Ah. 5:00 a.m. Which meant that Steve now hit his 24th hour of being awake. Fantastic.
Sneaking around the empty beer and vodka bottles, Steve alighted the ladder to the top bunk (which gave a creak that sent fear straight to his gut) and plopped in the covers. Bucky flipped over and his cacophony of snores increased in volume. Steve sighed, and fumbled for his earbuds. Perhaps some Johnny Cash would drown out Bucky's snoring and help Steve sleep.
"I fell into a burning ring of fire…"
Steve blinked slowly, eyes searching the dingy ceiling. He didn't know what he expected to find there, but with each passing glance and each verse of Johnny Cash's smooth voice, Steve was lulled to sleep.
Steve did not have a peaceful night.
He was standing at his graduation ceremony. He looked into the crowd. After a bit of searching, he saw Peggy and Tony, grinning like idiots. He made it. After all his work, he was graduating. He was going to be a lawyer.
The dean held out his diploma and a hand ready to shake. But as Steve reached to grab it, his fingers passed through the diploma as if it were just a projection. Steve panicked, and reached again. And again his hand passed through the diploma.
His eyes met the dean's in utter fear. The dean's smile took on a more disturbing aspect, and Steve shrunk down in fear. The crowd laughed at him, pointing and mocking his failure. He was never going to be a lawyer. His future was over.
The diploma melted, the stage melted, the dean melted, and oh god he was melting too make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop….
Steve's breath caught in his chest as he heard his alarm. It was time for a new day.