degenerate - bja

10

september 30, 1989
cooper's pov

we had been to the gilman a couple of times, but rose was awful at remembering directions. so, we were driving aimlessly around berkeley, california, trying to read this damned map. i turned around in the passengers seat to show angelina the map, getting major neck burn from the seatbelt.

"turn left here." she guided. "then make a u-ey cause we are literally in the opposite direction."

luckily, we left early, cause we knew this would happen. "no need to be rude, ange. guess who's the only one who has a car? me."

"hey! who drive you home after ryan's party?" they started to bicker.

we loved each other sure, but driving privileges were our main start of conflict. "guys, stop. let's just get to the gig."

rose scoffed, "oh please. you only wanna go cause your little boyfriend is there." oh my god. says the one who can't even stay single for a week.

angelina broke us up. "just- hand me the map, coop. i'll give directions."

"mike isn't my fucking boyfriend." i muttered under my breath, begrudgingly passing the map to ange. i settled in for an angry, quiet drive.

We pulled up to the gilman, rose doing a shitty parallel parking job. a couple punks were waiting outside, smoking cigarettes and attempting to bargain with the scrawny security guard so he could let them in before doors. when i stepped out, the cold air hit my legs, freshly shaved and only covered by a denim skirt. my top half was alright, my dad's old stiff little fingers shirt along with a leather jacket provided more than enough warmth. i hoped that it would be more temperate inside, with all the people and lack of air conditioning. 

"how do you think they'll know we're here?" rose asked, standing next to me. she was known for the silent treatment, so it went without saying that she was over our little argument in the car.

"by going in i guess, let's just wait outside like normal." angelina answered. i agreed and we went behind the punks i mentioned earlier. rose tapped one of them, a tall androgynous person with an admirable mohawk, and asked for a cigarette. they offered one to me too, and i happily obliged and thanked them.

the spray paint-covered door opened, and out popped tre. "finally you guys are fuckin' here." he greeted, pulling us out of the line and through the door, nodding to the security guard. "they've been sending me out here every thirty seconds, i swear to god. cause i got my kit set up like, hours ago n' they're still tuning and shit."

the place looked no different than it usually did. bottles on the floor, dirty brick walls, drenched with spray paint, the peeling paint on the stage. but still, that place was like a second home to me. even though i had only been there a few times, i longed for more. it was the only place (other than my own bedroom) where i felt like i belonged.

tre took us backstage, somewhere i had never been. We sat down on the rugged couch, taking a beer from the case on the little table in front of us. cheap beer, that tasted similar to what we had that night at the field. but who was i to reject these commodities provided to a small number of people?

billie and mike bounded into the room.

"Hey guys, glad you could make it!" billie said, taking a sip from his already opened beer.

i ground the butt of my cigarette into a nearby ashtray, i had completely forgotten about it and i almost burnt my fingers. wouldn't have been the first time i had a cigarette related burn.

mike waved at me, and i offered a slight smile and a wave back. he anxiously checked the time. "guys, we're on in two!"

rose turned to angelina and i, "let's get the fuck out here."