Rock-And-Roll Eyes

Chapter Thirteen

The sixties turned out to be the greatest decade I've ever lived through. It had its ups and downs, but that's how life goes. In the beginning of 1960, we had our first leap that truly sent our career skyrocketing.

I walked along with Vincent down the streets of Bristol. It was a pale day, with white clouds and bleak surroundings. Even the people who passed looked sick.

I'm sure Vincent and I looked no different. It had been snowing constantly since Christmas. There had been no sunlight, no warmth, everyone was forced to either walk around in ice are stay indoors. It was only natural that they would look like they had just crawled out of the grave. It wasn't uncommon for Bristol citizens to look like ghosts at this time of year.

I didn't feel so well myself. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, and my stomach threatened to come out of my mouth. Overall, my body just felt sick. It's like that feeling you get just before you fall ill, but you still aren't expecting it. I had that feeling every winter. As soon as the snow began to fall, I began to feel like I was stuffed like a teddy bear.

"You alright there, Lia?" Vincent asked.

I nodded, "Just a bit peckish is all."

"You look ill," Vincent replied, "Like you're going to faint."

"I'm fine, Vincent, honest."

He didn't seem like he believed me, but he didn't pester on. We turned a corner and were met with a blast of air. Thousands of snowflakes pierced my cheeks like tiny ice shards trying to dig a tunnel through me. For a moment, we both stumbled backward. Vincent instinctively grabbed my arm as if trying to keep me from blowing over. I bowed my head and shivered violently.

"Christ, I can't wait for spring," Vincent muttered.

We pushed through the wind. I pulled my hat down and kept a tight grip on the flaps, "I'll be an icicle by then."

"Yeah," he replied, "What a pair of 'cicles we'll make."

I couldn't find the warmth to laugh. In the back of my mind, I cursed the bus company. Just because the streets hadn't been plowed today, they canceled all buses, making Vincent and I walk to the dance hall, in the snow, with a guitar case. It was a miracle the rehearsal wasn't canceled.

Vincent and I made it into the club without freezing. The warmth of the hall took me into its embrace and kissed my forehead. I sighed in relief.

Benedict and Clyde were already on stage. There was nobody but us and a janitor in the club that night. It was a routine rehearsal. Even though we knew all our sets by heart, we were still supposed to practice to keep sharp. The owner of the club was a resilient fellow who wanted to be sure we wouldn't mess up.

I slipped my coat off and hung it on one of the chairs. It slipped off, but I caught it and rehung it. Vincent did the same before going to the stage. Benedict glanced up and grinned at us, "Glad you didn't freeze."

"Almost," Vincent replied, "Fucking cold out there."

Clyde poked his head up, "Vincent Armstrong, there is a child present."

He gestured to me. Both Clyde and Vincent snorted. I sneered at all of them, "I'm not a bloody child."

It had become a running joke since the day Vincent and I joined the band. Just because I was younger than them, I was instantly the child.

"Come off it, Melly," Clyde replied, "You're seventeen, that's a child."

"That's not what you said when you were seventeen."

"That's a different story."

"Sod off, Hogbottom."

Clyde cackled. Vincent sat on the stage and began to tune his guitar. I shot glares at all of them before placing myself on the stool and arranging the drums to my fancy. I had a particular taste when it came to my drums; nobody could set them up to my liking except for me. Vincent often called me the pickiest drummer this side of The River Mersey.