Keeping It Together • Sebastian Bach

Chapter 3: Meeting the Skids

It was 10:45 in the morning the next day, and Savannah stood in front of the mirror, studying herself. She was wearing her most rocker-esque outfit, that way she could impress the band during her interview with her fashion sense. She wasn't about to show up in casual sweatpants and a hoodie, claiming that she had the look the band was going for. No, she had to practice what she preached.

Her eyes looked herself up and down, verifying that she looked okay. She had on a short, black skirt with fishnet tights underneath, a Metallica shirt with a leather jacket on over it, and high heeled black boots. As for her makeup, her brown eyes were decorated with thick, long, winged eyeliner while blush emphasized her cheeks. Her long hair was down and wavy, with a part down the middle.

She nodded in satisfaction; she looked pretty good. She picked up her phone as well as her purse. You know, for going to an interview for a job that she wasn't super stoked about, she was pretty nervous. Of course, she did want the job, since she needed one and couldn't think of anything better (she would still be involved with music and would get to work with Rachel), but it wouldn't be the end of the world if she didn't get it. But, her nerves implied that it would be.

She walked out of her house, making sure to lock the door behind her. The chilly New Jersey air of a November day sent shivers through her. She didn't go back in and grab her coat, though. She always thought coats were pointless if the majority of the outing would be spent inside; all the coat would be doing would be providing a few minutes of warmth while taking up space in someone's house the rest of the outing.

She crossed her arms over her chest for warmth as she walked to her car. She felt a little wobbly in her heeled boots; she was never one to wear heeled anything. As the lovable girl trope goes, she was clumsy as hell. So, she dodged heeled shoes at every possible occurrence. But, today was an interview. She could make some allowances.

   After a short walk, she made it to her car. She unlocked it, hopped in, turned her keys into the ignition, and immediately cranked up the heat. After doing that necessary task, she put her phone on the holder attached to her vents, putting in the address that Rachel sent her.

   It was only five minutes away. She found it astounding that she had lived five minutes away from Rachel's band, and had never met any of them before.

Savannah buckled herself up and backed out of her driveway, turning on the radio.

Skid Row wasn't playing this time, but Mötley Crüe was. She grinned as she cranked the volume, jamming out to Dr. Feelgood. She knew that was a very basic favorite Mötley song to have, but she didn't care; Dr. Feelgood would forever reign supreme in her mind. Besides, it was everyone's favorite for a reason. If it was a shit song, nobody would like it.

After that song and Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard, Savannah was pulling into the driveway of the Skids' house. The nerves that the music had been holding off hit her once again, but she breathed and collected herself. Rachel had assured her that professionalism was not necessary with the Skids, so she didn't have to be anyone but herself. She tried to remember that as she took her key out of the ignition, stuffing her keys in her purse.

After a few more deep breaths, she hopped out of her car, shutting the door behind her. She made her way up the house's long driveway, eyeballing it as she did so. It was a nice house. Pretty big, but also somehow modest-looking. It was white with black shudders, and it had a good number of windows.

Speaking of windows, Savannah could see what looked like a face in one of them, peering down at her. She assumed that it was a curious band member, but some part of her warned her that this was the wrong house and she was disturbing some innocent person.