"Huh?"
Grace knew she sounded terribly idiotic at the moment, but
she had to be sure if what this Tony something or other was saying
was true. Pondering whether or not she had mis-heard him, she
glanced around at her bandmates. They all wore similar expressions:
shock - bewilderment. Grace had to stifle her laughs at them - they
were the ones who looked idiotic, not her.
"We're not a big label or anything, just indie kind of shit. But,
man, girl, you sure can sing - move. Did you see them out there?
They loved you. And, your words weren't just all that bull shit
they play on the radio. You write your own lyrics?" Tony's words
blurred together at the rate he was talking.
Nodding her head, Grace felt a little bit of reality slip back
upon her. Then, it dawned on her - record label - album - going
somewhere other than community college. She cast a subtle glance
at Eli, who seemed to be coming to, as well. One of his legs was
bouncing, and she knew he was only fidgety when he was anxious,
and nervous.
"Of course I don't expect you to make the decision tonight. But,
it would be nice to get you all in the studio as soon as possible.
I think you ought to talk with each other. I mean, you're just
fixing to graduate in a couple of months, and I'm sure that's
important to a girl like you,"
Tony strolled out of the room, idly playing with his wallet
chain. The door closed with a loud thud, causing Grace to suddenly
jump up. Wink followed suit, pickin her up and swinging her around.
It reminded her of just a few days ago when they had gotten the gig.
And, now - and now, she had no clue as to what to do.
"We're gonna' be fuckin' rock stars, Little Sister. And, to think
I'm the one that discovered you," Wink yelled, joyously.
Finally, after Grace felt she had just been on a tilt-a-whirl,
Wink put her down. Feeling a bit numb, Grace silently padded out of
the room, leaving the ecstatic wailings of Ted, Wink, and Coop. She
briskly ambled outside the side exit, feeling around in her baggy
pants that seemed to have a million pockets. Never would she imagine
that she could wear such a thing, but Eli had insisted that they had
looked good on her. And, she did not want to be the odd woman out:
the rest of the guys looked liked they had not done laundry in months.
Plus she always had a thing for baggy pants, and band shirts.
She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, fumbling for
a moment with Eli's zippo. It was Eli that had gotten her started. Both
of them were not addicts - yet. But, she was for certain that at the rate
they were going, they soon would be. The nicotine rushed upon her with
Grace's second inhale, and all the pent up frustration, the adrenaline
of perfoming on stage, and the idea of actually cutting a record seemed
trivial now. All that mattered was the dim street lights shining down
her, the smoke, and finding a comfortable way to lean against the wall
to the building.
The sound of the exit door opening registered in her mind, yet
she chalked it up to it being a roadie, or a lost fan. There were two
bands playing that night: The G. D. B. and Anti-Inflamatory; Anti-Inflamatory
had opened for them. The G. D. B had all ready been sighned to Tony's label,
and were in the midst of finishing off their time in the studio, or so Tony
had rambled on. Pretty soon, she remembered Tony saying, they'll be all
over the fucking place, can you believe that RCA tried to steal them away
from me? Amanda's loyal, as well the rest of the band: I picked them off
from living in dingy hotels and her car - they're mine.
Grace liked The G. D. B a lot. Mainly because Amanda was just
like her. They both read a lot, wrote a lot, played guitar, wrote all
their songs, and in general could have been twins seperated at birth.
Their were some big differences though: Amanda's music was hard - fast
paced, even more punk rock than Grace's. And, while Grace was five-seven,
or eight with long, dark brown hair, Amanda was an endearing five-one and
a half; with short, spikey, blonde-red hair. It made Grace admire Amanda
when she told her that she had graduated two years early. "Child prodigy,
my fucking ass!", she recalled Amanda stating.
They had become rather quick friends when Amanda revealed that
she had cut her own hair with kitchen scissors, and had tried to bleach
her all ready dyed red hair - only to find that it came out a bit orange,
but very good. Grace found absolutely hilarious that G. D. B. stood for
was God-Damned Band. She has a fucking mouth on her, that one does, Grace
thought, then giggled at the obsurdity of her own language.
"Grace?" Eli called, touching her shoulder.
She instantly lit two cigarettes, giving one to him - he took it
without hesitation. They smoked in silence, enjoying the cool air that
whipped against them. They both looked anywhere but at each other. It
was not the kiss, because neither one regretted it, but it was the entire
thought of actually making it somewhere. Ending the solitude of the late
night, Eli spoke . . .
"It's always been my dream,"
"I know,"
"But, we can't force you to, and we just can't along without you,"
"I know,"
"I don't want get along without you,"
"I know that, too," and she practically flung herself at Eli.
The embrace surprised him, to be sure, but it was much welcomed.
He felt as if this was just one elaborate dream, and he needed to hold
something tangible. So, the two held one another, once and a while
breaking for a crevace filled kiss. It did not matter if it was
politicaly incorrect, or that their parents would be outraged.
All that mattered was them, and the moment.
Months flew by, and graduation for Grace came and went.
She had kept a lid on about the deal that would be finalized a week
after the actual ceremony, not mention her relationship with Eli.
It seemed strange that huge chunk of her school was crazy about The
G. D. B. They knew that Anti-Inflamatory, a band she now belonged,
and they opened for them every time they played. Yet, they never
had the thought that Anti-Inflamatory would actually get somewhere.
In fact, the last month of school, she was ostracized by
some of the hardcore punks. They taunted - belittled her, callind
her a "poser" or a "blatant rip-off of G. D. B." At first it had
infuriated her to no extent, but Amanda had given her some really
good advice. Amanda told Grace that everyone calls any rock band
a poser, before and after they made it. It was given: you're not
punk if you have the beliefs but not the clothes, and you're not
punk if you have the clothes, and not the beliefs. What matters
is that you like the music you create, and that's all. Somehow that
simplified it for Grace.
But, now it was near a week after graduation, and Grace
stood gracefully by the refridgerator, banging her head on the
door. Eli sat at the kitchen table, watching her movements in
amusement mainly. With one last, loud thud, Grace ambled over
to join him.
"I hate performing new songs," she stated
"We're just opening for them,"
"Yeah," Grace scoffed, "and by next week we'll be on tour with them,
opening for them every night they play."
"But, after we get back we record, then we," he emphasized the we
with a raise of his eyebrow, "go on tour. Pretty sweet, no?"
"But, what if I can't write anymore songs? What if the inspiration
just flies the fuck out the window? Will you still want me to be lead singer?"
"Of course, now play it for me," he said, and planted a kiss a top her head.
They clung to each other as they made their way to the
garage. Instantly Grace picked up her guitar, picking it a bit
- making sure it was in tune. And, just before she started the
song for him, Grace decided she would play every song for Eli first . . .
" Baby, let me hold you -
Just for a little while.
Come on and let me hide -
Just for a little while.
I'd write you a river: I'll be your Bonnie,
If you'd be my Clyde;
I'd write you a dawn,
If you take me from this life.
Baby, just let me touch you -
Just for a little while.
Come on, let me kiss you -
Just for a little while.
I'd drown for you: I'll be your Ophelia,
If you'd be my Hamlet,
I'll drive myself insane,
If you keep me from being the bane of my existence.
So, baby, please let me hold you -
Just for a little while.
Come on and let me hide -
Just for a little while.
So, baby let me touch you -
Just one last time.
Come on, and let me hide -
Just one last time."
Grace knew she sounded terribly idiotic at the moment, but
she had to be sure if what this Tony something or other was saying
was true. Pondering whether or not she had mis-heard him, she
glanced around at her bandmates. They all wore similar expressions:
shock - bewilderment. Grace had to stifle her laughs at them - they
were the ones who looked idiotic, not her.
"We're not a big label or anything, just indie kind of shit. But,
man, girl, you sure can sing - move. Did you see them out there?
They loved you. And, your words weren't just all that bull shit
they play on the radio. You write your own lyrics?" Tony's words
blurred together at the rate he was talking.
Nodding her head, Grace felt a little bit of reality slip back
upon her. Then, it dawned on her - record label - album - going
somewhere other than community college. She cast a subtle glance
at Eli, who seemed to be coming to, as well. One of his legs was
bouncing, and she knew he was only fidgety when he was anxious,
and nervous.
"Of course I don't expect you to make the decision tonight. But,
it would be nice to get you all in the studio as soon as possible.
I think you ought to talk with each other. I mean, you're just
fixing to graduate in a couple of months, and I'm sure that's
important to a girl like you,"
Tony strolled out of the room, idly playing with his wallet
chain. The door closed with a loud thud, causing Grace to suddenly
jump up. Wink followed suit, pickin her up and swinging her around.
It reminded her of just a few days ago when they had gotten the gig.
And, now - and now, she had no clue as to what to do.
"We're gonna' be fuckin' rock stars, Little Sister. And, to think
I'm the one that discovered you," Wink yelled, joyously.
Finally, after Grace felt she had just been on a tilt-a-whirl,
Wink put her down. Feeling a bit numb, Grace silently padded out of
the room, leaving the ecstatic wailings of Ted, Wink, and Coop. She
briskly ambled outside the side exit, feeling around in her baggy
pants that seemed to have a million pockets. Never would she imagine
that she could wear such a thing, but Eli had insisted that they had
looked good on her. And, she did not want to be the odd woman out:
the rest of the guys looked liked they had not done laundry in months.
Plus she always had a thing for baggy pants, and band shirts.
She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, fumbling for
a moment with Eli's zippo. It was Eli that had gotten her started. Both
of them were not addicts - yet. But, she was for certain that at the rate
they were going, they soon would be. The nicotine rushed upon her with
Grace's second inhale, and all the pent up frustration, the adrenaline
of perfoming on stage, and the idea of actually cutting a record seemed
trivial now. All that mattered was the dim street lights shining down
her, the smoke, and finding a comfortable way to lean against the wall
to the building.
The sound of the exit door opening registered in her mind, yet
she chalked it up to it being a roadie, or a lost fan. There were two
bands playing that night: The G. D. B. and Anti-Inflamatory; Anti-Inflamatory
had opened for them. The G. D. B had all ready been sighned to Tony's label,
and were in the midst of finishing off their time in the studio, or so Tony
had rambled on. Pretty soon, she remembered Tony saying, they'll be all
over the fucking place, can you believe that RCA tried to steal them away
from me? Amanda's loyal, as well the rest of the band: I picked them off
from living in dingy hotels and her car - they're mine.
Grace liked The G. D. B a lot. Mainly because Amanda was just
like her. They both read a lot, wrote a lot, played guitar, wrote all
their songs, and in general could have been twins seperated at birth.
Their were some big differences though: Amanda's music was hard - fast
paced, even more punk rock than Grace's. And, while Grace was five-seven,
or eight with long, dark brown hair, Amanda was an endearing five-one and
a half; with short, spikey, blonde-red hair. It made Grace admire Amanda
when she told her that she had graduated two years early. "Child prodigy,
my fucking ass!", she recalled Amanda stating.
They had become rather quick friends when Amanda revealed that
she had cut her own hair with kitchen scissors, and had tried to bleach
her all ready dyed red hair - only to find that it came out a bit orange,
but very good. Grace found absolutely hilarious that G. D. B. stood for
was God-Damned Band. She has a fucking mouth on her, that one does, Grace
thought, then giggled at the obsurdity of her own language.
"Grace?" Eli called, touching her shoulder.
She instantly lit two cigarettes, giving one to him - he took it
without hesitation. They smoked in silence, enjoying the cool air that
whipped against them. They both looked anywhere but at each other. It
was not the kiss, because neither one regretted it, but it was the entire
thought of actually making it somewhere. Ending the solitude of the late
night, Eli spoke . . .
"It's always been my dream,"
"I know,"
"But, we can't force you to, and we just can't along without you,"
"I know,"
"I don't want get along without you,"
"I know that, too," and she practically flung herself at Eli.
The embrace surprised him, to be sure, but it was much welcomed.
He felt as if this was just one elaborate dream, and he needed to hold
something tangible. So, the two held one another, once and a while
breaking for a crevace filled kiss. It did not matter if it was
politicaly incorrect, or that their parents would be outraged.
All that mattered was them, and the moment.
Months flew by, and graduation for Grace came and went.
She had kept a lid on about the deal that would be finalized a week
after the actual ceremony, not mention her relationship with Eli.
It seemed strange that huge chunk of her school was crazy about The
G. D. B. They knew that Anti-Inflamatory, a band she now belonged,
and they opened for them every time they played. Yet, they never
had the thought that Anti-Inflamatory would actually get somewhere.
In fact, the last month of school, she was ostracized by
some of the hardcore punks. They taunted - belittled her, callind
her a "poser" or a "blatant rip-off of G. D. B." At first it had
infuriated her to no extent, but Amanda had given her some really
good advice. Amanda told Grace that everyone calls any rock band
a poser, before and after they made it. It was given: you're not
punk if you have the beliefs but not the clothes, and you're not
punk if you have the clothes, and not the beliefs. What matters
is that you like the music you create, and that's all. Somehow that
simplified it for Grace.
But, now it was near a week after graduation, and Grace
stood gracefully by the refridgerator, banging her head on the
door. Eli sat at the kitchen table, watching her movements in
amusement mainly. With one last, loud thud, Grace ambled over
to join him.
"I hate performing new songs," she stated
"We're just opening for them,"
"Yeah," Grace scoffed, "and by next week we'll be on tour with them,
opening for them every night they play."
"But, after we get back we record, then we," he emphasized the we
with a raise of his eyebrow, "go on tour. Pretty sweet, no?"
"But, what if I can't write anymore songs? What if the inspiration
just flies the fuck out the window? Will you still want me to be lead singer?"
"Of course, now play it for me," he said, and planted a kiss a top her head.
They clung to each other as they made their way to the
garage. Instantly Grace picked up her guitar, picking it a bit
- making sure it was in tune. And, just before she started the
song for him, Grace decided she would play every song for Eli first . . .
" Baby, let me hold you -
Just for a little while.
Come on and let me hide -
Just for a little while.
I'd write you a river: I'll be your Bonnie,
If you'd be my Clyde;
I'd write you a dawn,
If you take me from this life.
Baby, just let me touch you -
Just for a little while.
Come on, let me kiss you -
Just for a little while.
I'd drown for you: I'll be your Ophelia,
If you'd be my Hamlet,
I'll drive myself insane,
If you keep me from being the bane of my existence.
So, baby, please let me hold you -
Just for a little while.
Come on and let me hide -
Just for a little while.
So, baby let me touch you -
Just one last time.
Come on, and let me hide -
Just one last time."