Lyrics to Rock 'N' Roll Outlaw by Rose Tattoo (1978)
Good things come to those who wait.
You can't rush art.
Rome wasn't built in a day.
Those were just a few of Luna Loud's favorite sayings. They were...what's the word...truisms? If that wasn't the term, it should be, because those maxims were straight fact. You can't start a race, snap your fingers, and materialize fifty miles away at the finish line. You gotta put in hard work and stuff. You gotta give it time, like with a garden; that shit doesn't just - poof - happen. You gotta water it and feed it. After doing that for so many years, you had beautiful flowers. If you really wanted those beautiful flowers, you'd have to deal with years of your garden being a pitiful mud patch until they started to grow. Sure, it's ugly for a while, but it'll be totally worth it in the end.
And if there was a pitiful mud patch of a person, it was Luna Loud.
Luna, a tall brunette with freckles and short, messy hair that she fastidiously cut because women having short hair was pure rock and roll, had never excelled at anything except music. Her grades were average, she had no marketable skills (and hadn't bothered to pick any up along the way), and didn't see herself doing anything in life but being a rock star. Her life revolved around music, partying, and searching for a chink in the seemingly inpeneratrble iron dome that was the music industry. She had been uploading videos of her singing and playing guitar to YouTube since eighth grade and had dozens of singles on SoundCloud and other streaming services. When she was sixteen, she even got a song on an album compiling the music of Detroit-area artists. Most of the other tracks were rap, house, and trap; hers was the only ass-kicking, balls-clenching hard rock song on it, and she was glad because it meant no competition. She was the only rocker in the house and that prevented her from being outshined.
All of it was for naught.
The highest view counts she had on YouTube were of her playing Back in Black by AC/DC, Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith, and Rock and Roll Tonight by Krokus, and even those weren't anything to write home about. Her original stuff languished wherever she left it, getting a handful of views/downloads and next to no feedback. She and the band she formed with her girlfriend Sam and some friends recorded a demo and sent it around, but only one record company actually responded...with a form rejection letter. At the bottom, though, some low level puke had scribbled a note. Not terrible, but not great and has no commercial value.
Hey, man, fuck you, our music is fine.
Luna dedicated so much time and energy to her career that she didn't have time for shit like jobs. She worked part time at Burpin' Burger in junior year but got into a fight with the manager. He wanted her to clean the bathrooms but that wasn't her job, so she told him no. I flip patties, man, I don't clean urinals. He got mad and Luna dipped. She didn't need that job anyway, she could get by without it. Ever since, she'd been hanging out at home and went to school. She wanted to drop out in the eleventh grade to focus on her career, but Mom and Dad threatened to kick her out unless she got a full time job. "We're struggling," Mom confided in her, "and we need help. If you drop out, you have to get a job and start helping out with bills."
Whoa, slow down there, Mom. I got a job. It's called rock 'n' roll. \m/
Luna chose to stay in school rather than work and was glad that she did. Truth be told, Luna wasn't made for 9-5 conformist bullshit. The thought of having to get up early and go to work like some kind of slave gave her the heebie jeebies. She couldn't do bland and conventional, she couldn't take structure and discipline. She was a free spirit and couldn't be tied down by a desk or a cash register. Yeah, she wanted money and nice things, but if it meant working at a low wage job and dealing with bullshit from her boss, her customers, and her coworkers, fuck that, she'd just skate by on Mom and Dad's dime. Hadn't she been doing that her whole life? Wasn't she used to not having stuff and dreaming of the day she would? Wasn't she used to waiting on the day the world would finally recognize her talent and give her all the money and accolades she deserved? Yeah, man, she was used to all of that, so there really wasn't a change, you know? Getting a job...that was a change and a shitty one at that?
During her last two years of school, Luna's life was a blur of music, weed, and parties. She drank too much, smoked her weight in bud, and spent her evenings in her room strumming her guitar and humming melodies. She wrote her own stuff at first, but soon that became too much work and she left the lyrics up to Sam. When Sam got mad because she felt like Luna was heaping all the work on her, she begged Lucy to write a few songs for her. What the fuck was Sam's problem anyway? Writing lyrics wasn't that much work. Coming up with beats, riffs, and melodies was much. Much harder. It took her all day, and sometimes she lost the remote, and other times she didn't have enough pot to get her in the groove. Sam acted like she never did anything and that really offended her. She was the one who did all the mixed and edited everything and then uploaded it. Well...that was actually Lisa, but still, Luna brought that to the table, not Sam.
Luna met Sam when they were both fifteen and was head over heels the moment she first laid eyes on her. Sam was tall, blonde, and shaped like a Renaissance sculpture. Luna had known since she was eight that she liked girls and well as boys, but she had never been so into a girl as she was with Sam. As luck would have it, Sam was bi too and they hit it off. They liked the same movie and movies, had the same political views (which boiled down to leave me alone unless you got UBI and free college), and dug most of the same stuff. They got along great at first, but then in senior year, something changed.
What was it, you might ask?
Sam.
What if our band never takes off? she worriedly asked once, What if we never get rich and famous?
Where Luna came from, that was called quitter talk and it was frowned upon. Luna tried to be understanding in the beginning, but Sam kept getting worse and worse. She didn't think they were gonna hit the big times and started worrying about getting into college and shit. Luna couldn't help laughing at her; she was acting like a prep or something. Oh, I better get good grades and make a high score on the SATTTTTTT. "Do you hear yourself right now?" Luna asked her one day as they sat on Sam's bed. "You sound like a fucking dweeb. Your grades don't matter. None of this kiddie porn high school shit matters."
Sam shot her a dirty look. "It does matter. If we don't blow up, what are we gonna do? Work at Flip's for the rest of our lives?"
It pissed Luna off that Sam didn't believe in their band, and it pissed her off that Sam would imply they wouldn't get famous. Determination and hard work pay off. Her father told her that every day. All they had to do was keep on keeping on and one day they'd reach the Promised Land. They had to. Luna had nothing else to fall back on. Some people are born to be engineers or computer whizzes, some people are born to be lawyers or politicians, some people are born to be athletes, and some people - like Luna - are made for music. She was under no delusions, she knew that the chances of signing with a big label and churning out one hit let alone multiple hits were small, but it had to happen to someone, and it sure as shit didn't happen to people who gave up and got a job at the fucking bank.
"I think we just need to be smart about this," Sam said. "We need to really think about what we're going to do with our lives."
"I know what I'm doing with my life," Luna said tightly.
"Getting stoned and drinking too much?"
Luna didn't know how to respond to that, so she got up and stormed out.
If she was really honest with herself, Sam was kind of right. She spent a lot of time partying, and her drinking was getting out of hand. She didn't spend every waking moment in a stupor, but whenever she and Sam went somewhere with booze, she guzzled it the way people on the East Coast guzzled gas when that pipeline got hacked. She smoked pot at least three times a day and got grumpy when she didn't have any. During an argument once, Lori called her a freeloader and it made Luna so mad that she lunged at the blonde only to be held by Lynn, Luan, and Lincoln. She hated being called shit like that because in her darkest moments, she thought that maybe it was true.
For the most part, though, she passed her days and nights drinking, playing her guitar, and daydreaming of stadiums packed with screaming fans. Her grades slipped; she was passing, but just barely. Oh well. Did it matter if she got a fucking D in history? Even if she didn't make it in the music industry - a pretty big if, she told herself - knowing the names of generals who waged a single battle two hundred years ago wouldn't do shit for her in life. And neither would knowing advanced calculus, Really, school was bogus and a waste of time. She could put much more time and effort into building her career if she dropped out. But if she did, Mom and Dad would make her get a job and ride her ass to help them pay bills. Man, that was some straight bullshit; it was majorly holding her back. Yeah, she got it, okay, she should pay bills, but they were fine with her not chipping anything in as long as she was in school, they just didn't want her working on her music. They meant well, but that was so ass backwards. Her music would pay off one day. Farting off in science class wasn't.
Around that time, Sam got serious about school. She was always studying and stressing over grades and never had time for fun. Luna rarely saw her and when she did, Sam would start in on her about cleaning up her act and shit. It's crazy how quickly things can change. Just six months ago, Sam was her rock and roll mama, now she was a fucking square who was flaking in their career. That hurt, man, because to Luna, it felt like Sam was flaking on her. She loved Sam and wanted them to stay together, but it seemed like they were already beginning to drift apart. "I'm going to try to get into RWCC," Sam said one sunny Tuesday afternoon in early April. "You should too."
They were sitting under the tree in Luna's backyard, the sunlight filtering through the budding branches and warming their skin.
RWCC was Royal Woods Community College, which sat on the other side of Raymond Park less than three miles from Luna's house. In an instant, Luna's mind began to work, Really? RWCC? Oh, that was great. She was afraid Sam would try for some bigshot university a thousand miles away. Since she was staying close, they could keep working together on their music.
"Earth to Luna."
Luna blinked like a woman coming awake from a trance. "What?"
"Were you even listening to me?" Sam asked, a sharp edge in her voice.
Luna's first instinct was to get defensive, but she caught herself before she could stupidly start a needless argument. "I was thinking," she said, "about what I would even study."
That was a bald faced lie. She had no intention of going to some dumbass community college, but if that's what Sam wanted to hear, fine, man, whatever. "Nothing interests me but music."
"Study to become a music teacher or something," Sam suggested.
Ugh. A music teacher? That sounded like the most pathetic thing she could possibly be. Music teachers are like literary editors: They don't have the talent to succeed in their chosen field, so they inhabit the periphery, bitter and jealous because they couldn't be out there in primetime. Teaching music, studying music - doing anything but actually composing and playing music - was something you settled for, not aspired to. She didn't want to be some tired, burned out music teacher hating life as 20 kindergarteners butchered Mary Had a Little Lamb on recorders. She wanted to be rich and famous, she wanted to write hit singles and tour the world, she wanted to see her music used in movies, she wanted to be somebody. The thought of languishing away in Royal Woods, where nothing ever happened and everybody knew everybody else, made her feel like she was being strangled.
No, being a gay ass music teacher wasn't an option.
"Maybe," she said out loud.
"You have to have a Plan B," Sam said. "You also have lay off the fucking booze."
Luna inwardly rolled her eyes. Here we go again with this shit. "I don't have a drinking problem," she said with strained patience. "Yeah, I like to drink but it's not like I'm a drunk or anything. I can quit whenever I want."
"Quit then," Sam said.
"I don't want to." She laid her hand on Sam's knee. "I just do it to cut loose, okay? It's not like I need it to get out of bed in the morning."
"You might one day," Sam said.
Yeah, and one day she might need a wheelchair because a freak meteor came out of the sky, fell on her while she was walking to school, and broke her spine in fifteen places, leaving her paralized. That's to say: Fat chance of that ever happening.
Sam was just being too fucking uptight. She acted like Luna drinking and having fun meant she was a loser and an alcoholic, and that made her feel self-conscious. She couldn't take a drink or smoke a blunt anymore without hearing Sam's nagging voice and feeling like she was doing something wrong. Sam, in other words, was really harshing her mellow.
She loved Sam, she really did, but Sam was starting to really stress her out, and that depressed her. Her parents didn't support her, her siblings didn't support her, and now her girlfriend, to whom she could always turn when life was getting her down, didn't support her either.
Maybe they were right. Maybe this was all a waste of time, maybe she needed to get her head out of her ass and accept that she was going to be a nobody for the rest of her life.
Depression led to more drinking. Every day after school, she had an old hippie she met at a gig once buy her a bottle of vodka and drank herself stupid. She chose vodka not because she liked it (it tasted like straight rubbing alcohol), but because it didn't smell as strongly as other liquors: She could hide its scent with a little chewing gum.
Physically, she didn't need booze. She didn't thirst for it as she sat in third period geometry and she didn't shake and jitter if she went a few days without it. She did need it to quiet the voices of self-doubt in her head, the voices that sounded like Sam and her parents. When she was drunk, she felt loose and good. The future wasn't so uncertain when she drank, her misgivings weren't as great. When she was sober, she worried that Sam and her parents were right, but when she drank, she realized how full of shit they were. Yeah, she wasn't in Hollywood and spitting out top tens, but she was only seventeen. Most rockers didn't really hit the big time until their mid-20s. Being down on her for not having a recording contract in hand and telling her she was wasting her time was like shitting on a middle school football player for not being in the NFL already. Like goddamn, give the kid time.
Give me time.
But they wouldn't. Sam wouldn't give her time and neither would Mom and Dad. They saw that she wasn't playing sold out concert halls and automatically assumed that her career was never going to take off. She couldn't exactly resent them - they meant well and weren't trying to trash her dreams - but she couldn't entirely forgive and forget it either. Why didn't they believe in her? Why were they so quick to write her off?
Despite her depression, this only drove her to work harder so that one day, she could prove them wrong. She would blow up, she would become rich and famous. One day, she'd buy this house and pay all of the bills. What will Mom and Dad say then? What will they say when she bought the whole town and made everything free? They'd be sorry. They'd realize how misguided they were and apologize profusely. Man, that would be great. What feels better than total vindication? Nothing, not even getting wasted.
With renewed determination, Luna went to work. In the evenings, she posted her music everywhere she could, from Facebook to TikTok. She also did album reviews and other videos, often taking song requests from the comments section in order to get the fans involved. On the weekends, she booked her band into clubs around the area, always for free because you gotta spend money to make money, and if you don't have money, make the thing free. Getting Sam to go along was the hardest part. "It's just on weekends,' Luna told her, a hint of begging in her voice. "I know you want to study and worry about school, I respect that, but come on, you can't do it 24/7. You gotta cut loose some time, and why not do it playing music...with me?"
Sam sighed deeply and favored Luna with an expression that could have been pity just as easily as it could have been fondness. "Okay," she said, relenting. "It's not that big a deal."
"Atta girl," Luna said.
That weekend, the last in May, they and their band played at a bar outside Royal Woods. The place was crowded, smoky, and stank like stale beer and old liquor. In other words, it was perfect. They did five songs and the crowd loved them. When she and Sam left just after midnight, Luna was electric with excitement. "Did you see how much they dug what we were laying down? Man, tell me we're not gonna be big, go 'head and tell me."
Sam shrugged one non-committal shoulder. "To be fair, Lune, they were all drunk."
Something inside Luna snapped. "Why do you always have to be so negative?" she demanded. "You're always putting me down and I'm getting tired of it."
"I didn't put you down," Sam said defensively, "I said they were drunk and they'd dance to a kid banging a tambourine."
"That is negative," Luna said, "you're saying we're no good and they only like us because they're blitzed. We have talent and we're good. Why can't you just accept that?"
They were walking back into town along the gravel shoulder of US10. Dark woods surrounded them on either side and stars twinkled overhead. The road stood empty save for the occasional passing truck hauling timber to the mill north of town.
"Why can't you just accept that there are millions of bands out there and only one or two get big?" Sam retorted. "Why can't you accept that you might not be a rich and famous rock star?"
"Because I am going to be a rich and famous rock star." The next part came out before she could stop it, and she instantly regretted it. "With or without you."
Sam winced and Luna swallowed thickly. She shouldn't have said that, but she wasn't going to back down.
For a moment, Sam started at her in disbelief, then nodded her head as if to say fine, have it your way. "Alright," she said, "do it."
She stormed off, and Luna watched her disappear into the darkness. It felt like Sam wasn't just walking away, but walking out of her life. Luna's heart sank and at the last minute she called Sam's name, but it was too late. Sam was already gone.
Luna blew a frustrated puff of air and raked her fingers through her short, sweaty hair. Part of her wanted to run after Sam, wanted to beg forgiveness and make it all better, but another, much larger part wanted Sam to come after her, for Sam to apologize.
For a long time, she stood on that soft gravel shoulder in the light of the stars and serenaded by the tranquil song the crickets made, then she lowered her head in unconsciously shame, squared her shoulders, and stalked home, her nails biting into the padding of her palm. At home, she wanted to rage and slam things around, but everyone was asleep so she couldn't. Instead, she fetched a bottle of vodka from between her mattress and box spring, sat in the darkness, and drank herself stupid, kept company only by a shaft of silvery moonlight and the soft sound of Luan's breathing. She thought of Sam and her parents, stoking and nursing her rage until she felt like she could literally tear the house down with bare hands, piece by fucking piece. Something Luan said long about about her being a never-was wishing she could be a has-been came back to her, and her chest filled with fire. She took a swig from the bottle and contemplated getting up and beating Luan's sleeping face in, but eventually decided against it because the room was starting to spin. Instead, she polished off the bottle and sat there with her back against the wall and her head swirling like a turd down a drain. She grabbed her phone, opened one of her many playlists, and shakily put on a pair of headphones. Blistering hard rock filled her ears, and she closed her eyes, wrenching them open again when her stomach dropped and a wave of vertigo crashed over her. The room was spinning faster now, tossing left, right, front, and center like a dingy caught in the wrath of a hurricane. Luna grabbed the cover and held on for dear life lest she be spun off. Her stomach clutched and the hot taste of rancid bile rose in the back of her throat.
Getting to her knees, she grabbed hold of the railing and stuck her head over the side. Her bunk was only a few feet off the ground, but right now, the distance seemed massive, dizzying. She pressed her lips closed in a final attempt to keep the contents of her stomach from spilling out, but she lost the battle and ralphed all over the carpet. The sound of it plopping onto the floor echoed in her aching head, and she vomited even harder, her vision straining and bursts and whorls of color exploding across the backs of her eyelids. Steaming puke shot from her mouth in a burning, vile rush and when there was nothing left, she dry heaved so hard she half expected her ribcage to come out.
She passed out and woke the next morning to Luan violently shaking her, a scowl on her face. "Guess what you get to clean up."
"Fuck off," Luna muttered and rolled onto her side, away from her angry sister.
"You puked all over the floor and it smells horrible," Luna bitched. "You need to clean it up. Now."
"Fuck off," Luna repeated.
Growling, Luan did as she was told.
Later on, Luna got down on her knees and cleaned her puke out of the carpet the best she could. She didn't even remember doing it, but it sure wouldn't be the first time she puked all over the place and it probably wouldn't be the last.
Following their fight, she and Sam rarely saw each other and didn't speak for a week. At first Luna was stubbornly insistant that Sam come to her, but when it became apparent that that was not going to happen, she went to Sam. The stress of school, trying to get her career off the ground, and being the oldest at home got to her, she said. "I just don't know what to do," she said heavily. "I've wanted to do music forever and now I just...I can't see myself doing anything else and it's hard."
She told Sam that she was right and promised to sign up for classes at RWCC in the fall. That was enough to smooth things over, but it added another burden to Luna's shoulders. What would she do when fall rolled around? What excuse would she come up with for not enrolling? What line would she hand Sam to explain her failure to jump on the college bandwagon? Money?
Yeah, that might work. Or she could say that her parents wanted her to get a job and help out with the bills. Sam already knew that topic had come up before so she'd probably buy it. Sorry, bro, maybe next semester.
She didn't wonder what her excuse would be that time around, because for someone like her, next semester seemed impossibly far away, almost as far away as retirement.
For now, things were good between them and that's all that mattered.
In June, Luna graduated from Royal Woods High by the skin of her teeth. She and Sam went to a party that night and Luna wound up on her knees in an alley, puking her fucking guts out and clutching a bottle of piss warm beer so that it didn't spill. Sam, elated at finally graduating, was drunk too, so she didn't nag, thank God.
That summer, Luna relaxed to the max. While Mom and Dad were at work, she'd sit on the couch, feet bare and dirty, and strum on her guitar, sometimes dressed in her old pancho and always baked out of her mind. As the oldest, she was in charge when Mom and Dad weren't around, so everyone bugged her for shit while she was trying to chill. Lily would bring her a juice box to open, and Luna would send her on her way. "I can't stop the rock," she'd say.
Around this time, Mom convinced Dad to buy a used car for Luna, Luan, and Lynn to use. Lynn drove it the most and started acting like it was hers, not wanting to give up the keys, getting mad if you left trash in it or didn't fill up the tank. Yeah, it was a ground rule that you replaced the gas you used, but Luna needed her money for beer and weed. Lynn got on her ass about not putting anything in the tank and Luna blew her off. "Stop being so uptight," Luna said once. "There was a quarter of a tank left when I got done with it."
"I'm sick of paying your way," Lynn said. "Next time, it better be full."
"Next time, fuck you."
To keep Lynn from having a cow, she filled the car up the next time she used it. She thought that would make the jock happy but she was wrong; Lynn still found a way to be angry. She was sitting on the couch and idly plucking her guitar when Lynn flew in like a banshee, screaming because Luna left cigarette butts in the car. "Man, fuck off," Luna said, "I emptied the ashtray."
"And dropped butts all over the floor," Lynn said.
Luna made a sour face.
"Why don't you get off your ass and clean it up?" Lynn asked. "Or are you a failure at that like you are at music?"
Luna jumped up like a pedo's dick when school lets out. "What the fuck did you say, bitch?" she heard herself say. Heat spread across her face and her grip on the guitar rightened. Her heart slammed furiously against her chest and the corners of her vision grayed. She didn't usually go from zero to a hundred like this but Lynn managed to say one of the only things that would truly piss her off. She wasn't violent...even when she was mad...but she was this close to whacking Lynn's fucking head off with her ax.
"You heard me," Lynn said and jabbed Luna's chest, "loser."
Two years ago, Lynn hit a growth spurt and shot up to 6'2. She towered over Luna, and her muscles were hard and toned from years of playing sports and training with weights. Luna was not intimidated by her but she also had the vague understanding that if they ever got into a fight, Lynn would have the upper hand. Even so, Luna threw the guitar aside and decked the taller girl in the face. Lynn's head whipped to one side, then snapped back. Issuing a roar, Lynn grabbed her and shoved her back. They fell to the floor, Lynn on top, and Lynn cocked her fist. Luna brought her knee up and rammed it into Lynn's crotch, robbing Lynn's blow of most of its power. Luna's head still burst with pain, though.
In an instant, Lincoln, Luan, and Lucy were pulling them apart. Lynn tried to push Luan out of the way to get to Luna but Luan held her back. "You fucking no good wannabe," Lynn said. "You're a drunk piece of shit. Neck yourself. NECK YOURSELF!"
"Knock it off!" Luan barked. "What is wrong with you guys?"
"She's wrong with me," Luna said and pointed at Lynn. She was flushed and shaking. "She keeps starting shit for no reason."
"You're a fucking parasite, Luna," Lynn said. "Get a job and stop leaving cigarettes in my car."
Luna growled. "It's not your car, bitch."
"I pay for the gas."
Before Luna could respond, Luan threw her head back. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" She glared at Lynn. "Go away! Go somewhere. Kick a ball." She spun on Luna, and Luna was shocked by the fire burning in her little sister's eyes. "You too. Go to your room." She jabbed her finger at the stairs.
Okay, who did Luan think she was telling Luna to go to her room? She started to argue, but the look on Luan's face stopped her dead in her tracks. Grumbling, she grabbed her guitar and went upstairs, where she slammed the door so hard it shook in its frame. She sat down, crossed her arms, and fumed for hours.
Fucking Lynn.
Eventually she got over it and so did Lynn. In a week, it was like nothing had ever happened, though Luna didn't use the car very much anymore. It was "Lynn's" so let her fucking have it. Thing's a piece of shit anyway.
In August, Luna booked a gig at a bar in Detroit. The owner offered her and her "little friends" unlimited pitchers of beer as payment. He didn't even ask their ages. Luna doubted he even cared. He told her that the place was "balls to the wall packed" on Saturday nights and that she'd get more exposure than a flasher in Grand Central Station. Luna was pumped and so was Sam. She was starting classes at RWCC in two weeks and this was her last harrah.
On Saturday evening, Sam picked her up in her van and Luna instantly rolled a joint. "Come on, Lune," Sam said tightly, "already?"
"Oh, c'mon," Luna said, "it's a special occasion."
"It's always a special occasion with you."
Luna grinned. "Special ed."
Sam looked at her.
She looked at Sam.
They burst out laughing and everything was okay again. Sam took the blunt, pressed it to her lips, and took a massive hit. "I'm really stoked about tonight,' she said. "I don't know why, but, you know, maybe I was wrong about us - about the band. We might not ever hit it big but we can still do stuff on the side. Lots of local acts do."
Though Luna wasn't content with being a local act, she was thrilled that Sam was coming around, and pointed at her. "Damn skippy," she said and plucked the joint out of Sam's hand.
On the way, they stopped to pick up their bandmates, Sully and Mazzy..They climbed into the back and instantly, the ride to Detroit turned into an epic pot party, smoke clogging the van. Sully and Mazzy, who had been dating since Luna had known them, started making out half way there, and Luna stared out the window at the passing countryside, so fucked out of her mind that she could barely keep her head up. Weed gave her real bad cotton mouth, and when she recovered, she chugged a couple beers to grease the wheels.
The bar was on a narrow side street in a bad neighborhood where rough looking men stood on corners and occupied stoops, passing forties in brown paper bags back and forth and glaring at anyone who passed by, especially if they were white. A neon sign above the door flashed HOLE and Luna giggled. "Hole,' she said.
Everyone else laughed too, and soon they were all crying with annoying, inebriated laughter. Luna threw open the door, stumbled out, and almost fell to the ground. "Be careful," Sam said, and everyone laughed again. Luna had no idea what was so funny about her nearly breaking her leg units off, but she came this to pissing in her panties.
Oh, no, wait, she wasn't wearing any panties. She smoked a bowl earlier and completely forgot them.
Eh, easier access for Sam.
Inside, the place was crowded and smoky, the smell of old beer hitting Luna like a fist and making her salivate. A bar stood along one wall, and a line of booths along the other, each one occupied. Ahead, a tiny stage jutted from the wall, almost as an afterthought, and some country and western band played the honkiest music Luna had ever heard. The chattering din of a thousand voices swept her to the bar, where she asked the pretty bartender to see Bob, the owner. She went to get him and a few minutes later he came over, a short, sweaty fat man with chest hair sticking out of his open collar. "Hey, you're here," he said, "great. You can go on after intermission. In the meantime, have some beer." He grabbed a random pitcher of amber liquid from the bar and shoved it into Luna's hands, sloshing a little over the side.
"Hey, thanks, man," she said.
She, Sam, Mazzy, and Sully went over to the only empty booth and sat down. Luna poured everyone a drink and they chatted while they waited for their turn onstage. Sam stopped Luna when she tried to refill her glass. "I don't wanna get too messed up," she said. "And you really shouldn't either."
"I'm fine," Luna assured her, "it takes more than some cheap ass beer to put me down."
"Not me," Sully said and slammed his beer. "Beer fucks me up." He poured another glass and knocked it back, throat bobbing.
The country band finished up and left the stage and a ten minute intermission followed. People went outside to smoke, others disappeared into the bathrooms to piss, snort coke, or fuck sluts they had jusr met. Luna guzzled a couple more glasses of beer and then got up.
That's when she realized something.
She lied.
Cheap ass beer was enough to put her down.
She didn't have a choice, though, everyone was coming back and Sam and the others were making their way on stage. Steadying herself, Luna staggered through the crowd and climbed the steps to the stage. She grabbed the mic and looked out at the sea of expectant faces. Sure, it was a tiny ass bar and the audience numbered a hundred if she was lucky, but to a girl who had long harbored dreams of stardom, it might as well have been Madison Square Gardens. "You guys ready to rock?" she asked.
Sporadic cheers and whistles went up.
"Alright," Luna said, "let's rock."
Sully started in with the drum beat and Mazzy picked up on bass. Luna nodded her head to the melody and launched into the song Hard Rock Bastard. She hit the high notes harder than she ever had before and her voice practically bled. Sully pounded the drums, Sam shredded her guitar, and Luna banged the shit out of her head. The people got into it and started to pump their fists and shout.
Their next song was a cover of Michael Bolton's Everybody's Crazy, a hair metal song he recorded before turning into a soft rock sell out. "I dedicate this one to BLM, the GOP, Gaza, the Colonail Pipeline, and literally every fucking body else," Luna said.
If possible, they did that song even better than the first.
After that, they closed with a boozy rendition of I Got Stoned And I Missed It by Dr. Hook. When the show was over, Luna thrummed with electricity. "That was our best performance ever," she gushed as she and the others returned to their booth.
"Yeah, it was really great," Sam grinned.
The bartender sent over another pitcher of beer, and then another. By the time they walked out the door an hour later, Luna was officially twisted. She, Mazzy, and Sully sat at a table on the empty patio and Luna packed a bowl. Sam didn't partake because she was tired and starting to feel sick; while Luna and the others toked up, she climbed into the van to "rest" which was basically code for "pass out." The weed hit Luna's already intoxicated brain like an avalanche and she slumped to one side.
For a long time, she dazed on the edge of unconciousness. Somehow, she, Mazzy, and Sully wound up in the van, Sully limp in the passenger seat and Mazzy curled up next to a sleeping Sam. Luna sat behind the wheel, head spinning. She was the most sober one so it was up to her to drive them back.
Don't tell that faggot Lynn, but Luna had driven their car drunk a thousand times and knew she could get everyone home safe. All she had to do was be a little extra careful.
Throwing the van into drive, she pulled away from the curb and navigated a narrow maze of side streets until she reached the highway. It was late and once they got out of Detroit proper, the roads were largely empty. Luna drove under the speed limit and leaned over the wheel to see better, eyes squinting. She didn't wanna miss a bend and total the van.
Sully and Mazzy both passed out and she was alone. She jammed a CD into the dash and loud hard rock music filled the cab
I don't need lots of people, tellin' me what to do
I don't need a long haired lady, to love me true as true
All I need is a rock'n'roll band... somewhere new to play
And I'm on my way, I'm on my way
"This is my jam!" she told her unconscious companions. She began to bang her head and to groove in her seat. Unbeknownst to her, she was pressing harder on the gas. She didn't hear the vroom of the engine gunning, didn't see the speedometer creeping past 25, 30, 35.
My life isn't easy baby, it's the life that I need
I got music livin' inside of me, I gotta set it free
All I need is a rock'n'roll band... somewhere new to play
And I'm on my way, I'm on my way
The van was flying down the road now, its front end wobbling. Luna took one hand off the wheel, made a devil horns sign, and slammed her head. She opened her eyes and her heart dropped.
A curved guardrail glinted in the light of the headlamps like an evil smile. Panic gripped Luna and instead of hitting the brakes, she punched the gas. Not that it would have mattered; it was already too late. The van tore through the guardrail with a terrible metal scream and Luna's head hit the wheel so hard that dazzling white light consumed her consciousness. She was vaguely aware of the van rolling and of broken glass spraying her face, but she was numb to it all, and quickly sank into the darkness.
When she came to, she was lying face down in tall grass, the wail of sirens riising in the distance. Her head ached monstrously and when she tried to push herself up on weak arms, fire spread out from her collarbone. She looked dazedly around, not knowing where she was or what was happening but terrified nevertheless. When her bleary eyes fell on Sam, her heart seized.
Sam lay spread eagle on her back, her face pointed up at her starry sky. Her eyes were wide and staring and her blood stained mouth hung open. Luna blinked and in that moment realized that something was wrong. She tried to crawl over, but fire filled her and she collapsed.
As the sirens drew closer, she began to cry.
The next morning, lying in a hospital bed with a bandage around her head and pain meds in her system, Luna was informed by a Detroit PD detective that Sam and Sully were both killed in the accident. Mazzy was in the ICU in critical but stable condition. In her drugged state, Luna understood what she was being told, but she was too numb to react.
Aside from a concussion and bruising on her collarbone, Luna was unharmed, and that afternoon, the hospital discharged her. Mom and Dad were there and pushed her to the lobby in a wheelchair. Luna's head throbbed hotly, and some part of her was glad because were it not for the pain, she would have to confront the fact that her girlfriend was dead.
In the lobby, two uniformed police officers stopped her. "Ms. Loud," one said, "you're under arrest."
Mom gasped. "For what?"
"Vehicular manslaughter."
"Y-You can't do that! She just got out of the hospital!"
But do it they did. They cuffed her hands behind her back, placed her in the rear of a squad car, and took her to the South Detroit House of Detention. The walls were gray and cinderblock and the overhead lights stung her eyes. She was fingerprinted, photographed, and then put into a room with two overweight detectives. If it weren't for the pain in her head, the sadness in her heart, and the nausea in her stomach, she would have been scared, intimidated, and a thousand other things. Instead, she was just tired.
Luna had seen enough cop shows in her day to know that she shouldn't talk until she had a lawyer. She requested one and wouldn't say anything until he or she was there. In the meantime, they stuck her in a single person holding cell with a metal toilet and a concrete slab for a bed. Luna curled up and hugged herself. It was only later, after her headache subsided, that the gravity of it all finally began to sink in, and she started to shiver. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of Sam, and she wept bitterly. It couldn't be true. There was no way Sam was dead...no fucking way. Sully...yeah, but not Sam.
Never Sam.
The next morning, a guard unlocked the door and a short, wispy little man with silvery gray hair and glasses came in with a briefcase came in. His name was Purvis and he was a public defender. She didn't have to talk to the detectives, he told her, and then informed her that she would be arraigned on two counts of vehicular manslaughter and one count of driving under the influence the next day.
Luna buried her face in her hands.
Her life was ruined.
Ha, at least she still had a life.
Unlike Sam.
That brought a fresh crop of tears to her eyes. "What should I do?" she asked.
"Well," Purvis said, "all you can really do is plead guilty and beg for mercy."
For some reason, that advice didn't sit well with her. He was her lawyer, wasn't he supposed to try and get her off? Shouldn't he come up with a way she could avoid jail time? Then again, what could he do? It was an open and shut case. She apparently told cops on the scene that she was driving, though she didn't remember it, and when they gave her a breathalyzer, her blood alcohol content was three times over the legal limit. How could she plead innocent?
That night, she talked to Mom on the phone and told her what Purvis said. "You're going to have to," Mom said. The words came hard and Luna could hear in her voice how much they hurt to speak.
"I'm sorry," Luna said. "I-I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't," Mom sighed, "but...I just...what can I say?"
Luna didn't know.
She just didn't.
The next afternoon, she was taken to the courthouse and arraigned. She pleaded guilty just like Purvis told her to. He argued that she should get a bond while awaiting sentencing, citing her otherwise clean record. The judge agreed and bail was set at 50,000 dollars. Mom and Dad got in touch with a bail bondsman and three days later, Luna walked free.
Coming back home was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Her siblings were awkward around her and couldn't look her in the eyes, and the crimes she had committed hung heavy in the air.
For two months, Luna waited on edge for her next court appearance. On the appointed day, she sat in the defendant's docket and listened as Purvis and the DA wrangled over sentencing. She was cold and hugged herself, but it was an inner chill that had settled into her bones shortly before the accident and hadn't left since.
Finally, Purvis took the DA's final offer. Three years in prison, a 150,000 dollar fine, five years' probation, and a revocation of her license for fifteen years. Purvis told her later that it was the best they could have hoped for. "We won," he said.
It didn't feel like winning, though.
Luna was cuffed and taken straight from the courthouse. All her family members were there, and her face burned with shame as she was led out. She knew she had screwed up, but it was only as she was being transported back to jail that she realized just how terribly and irrevocably she had screwed up.
No matter how much time passed, this would always be with her: The loss of Sam, the loss of her freedom, and the loss of her future.
I wish I listened to Sam, she thought.
If she had, Sam would be alive right now and they would both be in college, their whole lives ahead of them.
Instead, Sam was in a box and so, too, was Luna, only hers was made of concrete.
Fuck being a rock star...now all she wanted was to be free.
The day she transferred to Pine Creek Correctional Facility for Women in the UP, she cried for the thousandth time.
Something told her that she would shed many more tears over the next three years and in the years following.
But didn't know how right she was. Each night Sam came to her in dreams and she woke up crying.
Prison, she found, wasn't so bad.
But being haunted...being haunted was.
From that moment on, Luna never drank again.
Nor, for that matter, did she ever know peace again because she was right:
The accident stayed with her forever.
THE END