Rock-And-Roll Eyes

Chapter Sixteen

Patty's Club was like a different universe than the dancehall back home. It was bigger, smellier, and meaner than what we were used to. People sneered rather than smiled, and they looked at us as if sizing up their meal. The entire place reeked of sour milk and sweaty men. The club manager gave us long hours and shitty living conditions, but we endured. For the band, we endured.

We had only played one show there, technically half a show. The power went out halfway through and we had to leave. There was another show that night, and it was planned to be nearly eight hours long. I wasn't sure how we would survive an eight-hour long show. The most we've ever done was four hours.

I sat at the drum kit. I wasn't able to bring my drums from home because they technically belonged to the dancehall. That left me with new drums that seemed unfamiliar to me. This entire town was unfamiliar. I felt out of place like a match in a candle store.

What started as a dream turned out to be a confusing nightmare. With long hours, unlivable conditions, mean people, and loneliness brought on by being in a place unfamiliar to us, we had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

At the time, I was the only one on stage. The lads were getting ready, and they were taking forever. It gave me enough time to organize the drums to my liking.

That's when I met her. You've probably heard a million different versions of how we met Lyra Gray. Some say Clyde met her first, which would have been only fitting, but the truth is, I met her first. Had they been on the stage at the time, things would have played out differently.

"Guten tag."

It was odd to hear a German greeting in an Irish town. At first, I thought I had misheard. I glanced up from my drums. She was standing at the foot of the stage, a towel in her hands and a kind look on her face. As soon as I saw her, I had to hold back a gasp. She was the second most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Blonde hair the color of golden sunshine freely flowed right down to her buttox, only being held back by a thin headband. She wore the uniform of the waitresses, a white button up shirt and black skirt over stockings. Yet, she wore this like royal garb. Blue eyes stared at me with all the kindness in the world. It took me a moment to regain my ability to speak.

"Er-hello," I replied.

The woman smiled, "Are you the drummer?"

I had completely forgotten that I was holding the drumsticks and sitting at the drum kit. For a moment, I was confused, but I quickly realized what she was talking about. Spinning the sticks around in my fingers, in my best attempt to be suave, I grinned. I accidentally hit myself in the chin with the stick, causing her to laugh.

"Yes, that's me. Amelia Armstrong, pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Lyra Gray," she replied, "I'm one of the waitresses here. I heard we were getting a new band, but I didn't expect a girl."

She spoke with a thick German accent, which was quite peculiar to hear in an Irish city. Most spoke the dialect most often associated with drunks and gingers, but she spoke that of a whole different country. Most German accents with rough, cutting into you with every word, but hers was soft.

"I strive to break expectations," I winked, "Say, you're not from here either, are you?"

Lyra shook her head, "Nein. My family and I immigrated here during the war, I've been here ever since."

"It's nice to meet another oddball."

Lyra and I both giggled. I leaned forward on the drumset, resting my elbows on the middle drum. Lyra tucked her cloth into her apron and smiled, "Is this your first show?"