There's a small '50s type diner in this town, I don't know if you've been there. It's called Rudy's Can't Fail Café, but everyone just calls it Rudy's. There's only certain people that go there, and if you're not one of them then you don't even consider. It's not that you wouldn't be welcome (although you probably wouldn't), it's just... not an option. It's dark inside and smoky, and there are tacky red shiny booths, and a pretty red-haired waitress behind the counter. Everyone knows everyone there, and it's a regular hang out. There's no dress code, and no labels, it's more of an instinct, and if you don't feel comfortable there at first, then you never will. You know if it's your kind of place from the minute you walk through the door, and if it is, then you're in luck.
In Rudy's you can meet the beautiful people, the mysterious people and the downright weird. There's all kinds of people with all kinds of lifestyles, and the amazing thing is that they all get along. If you're accepted into this place then you're one of them and that, my friend, is a wonderful thing to be. Every time you push open the plastic door and hear that tinkle from the old bell you just know you're going to be surrounded by friends, and I've spent many a night there myself, with a drink in my hand and the best company in the world. When I'm upset, angry or simply overjoyed I just go straight to Rudy's, not to talk but just to be.
But enough about me. I'm not the important one in this story. Remember I was telling you before about the many kind of people here in Rudy's? There's one girl in particular that everyone knows, although not by name. Names are hardly ever used in Rudy's, they're not important. This girl is sweet sixteen and special, and everyone knows it except her. She owns the place, and you can tell from the way she's treated. You'll see her usually by the jukebox, an old fashioned one with lights and creaks, and she just fits right into place. Her long dark hair hangs down her back, and her beautiful dark eyes never seem to meet your gaze, just stare right off into the distance. She rarely smiles but if she does then the whole place lights up, and the mood changes just as soon as she walks in. Dressed always in an old flower print dress and big black combat boots, she commands respect and you wouldn't dream of opposing her.
Like I said, her place is by the jukebox and that's where she goes. She doesn't need money for the 'box, it's just one of those things, and whenever she's there – which is often – you can be sure of hearing some good music. She plays all the classics, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, The Who, and she knows every line, though she never sings. It's like stepping back in time, is going into Rudy's, and no one dances, no, they twist, they jive, they groove. She never joins in, she only watches, and that's the way it's always going to be. Sometimes she'll sit in the corner with a drink, but she never has to buy her own. There's always a queue of admirers lining up as soon as she steps over, and they never get tired of trying even though the only words she ever says to them is a quiet "thank you".
There's never a silence near her, and she's quickly surrounded by a large crowd of 'friends', each anxious to impress. You don't know if she's enjoying it or not, she just thoughtfully sips her drink and listens. Sometimes someone else will take over the jukebox, though they can never play exactly what the people want, not like she can. After she's finished her drink – and she only ever has one – she'll walk back over to that 'box, and whoever is there will immediately leave respectfully, knowing that it's her place and not theirs, wanting her to continue playing those songs. Everyone who's met her likes her – whether she knows it or not she just has that rare charisma that attracts people to her – and she seems to like everyone.
I spoke to her once, didn't say much, just asked her how she does it. She didn't seem to know what I was talking about at first, so I explained that I just wanted to know how she knows so much about music, as I couldn't put my deeper thoughts into words. She honored me with a smile, and I flushed under her knowing gaze, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. She answered me with only six words, but those six words said it all.
"I used to manage a band."