In Bloom - Felix Volturi

20. The Band

The evening was hot and dry as Felix and I climbed out of the car and crossed the parking lot toward Emo's.

The bar looked small on the outside, but past the scuffed up doors, there was an expansive open floor for the audience to pack in, with a small stage at the back of the building, and a large, well stocked bar near the front entrance.

I can't lie, I eyeballed the bar as we passed, but, as much as I wanted to stop by to pick up a drink, I couldn't let myself. Well, I could, but how would I be able to live that down after the whole conversation I had with Felix a few days before? It wasn't a good look.

"Over here," I said to Felix, pointing towards the left wall. I had to force my thoughts away from the bar. It was too tempting. Just thinking about going throughout the rest of the night sober made my skin crawl. I had to push through it.

I led Felix to the open spot I saw along the wall, and we posted up while we waited for Steve and guys to go on.

The wait ended up being longer than I expected - we were standing there for almost forty-five minutes before I saw the guys filed out onto the stage. God, I wanted a fuckin' cigarette.

As salty as I still was, I was genuinely curious to see how the performance would go. I crossed my arms over my chest as I smugly watched Roland get situated behind his drum kit.

Yeah, the band was good, but without me? We'd see about that.

Steve and Jeff got in their usual positions on either side of the stage, Jeff with his bass, and Steve with his guitar, leaving the front of the stage wide open.

I was just about to turn to Felix and make some snarky remark about the big, gaping hole in the middle of the band when, to my complete and utter shock, a woman about my size, with messy bleached hair, walked into the spotlight in torn fishnet tights, a skin tight micro dress, and a worn denim jacket. She strutted across the stage with a guitar slung over her shoulder towards the mic.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" the blonde yelled through the microphone.

The crowd cheered with enthusiasm in response.

"We are Nuclear Banditry!" she proclaimed, "Let's do this!"

Then, the band launched into the first song of the night.

"What the FUCK!" I yelled over the music at no one in particular. "They fucking replaced me!"

To my horror, the band - MY band - continued on, playing OUR songs at top volume, rocking it out on stage without me.

"And that's MY guitar!" I wailed. I'd had that guitar for over forty years. Elvis PRESLEY played on that guitar.

That was the last straw. I pushed myself off of the wall and shoved my way through the crowd, toward the stage.

"Lucy?" Brett, the stage tech, said when he saw me barreling through the side door, moving toward the stage, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you on stage?"

"Mic me up," I said tersely just as Felix arrived backstage.

"Do you want me to signal the band?" Brett asked as he fussed around with a jumble of electrical cords.

"Don't worry about it," I said, listening to the song the band was playing intently, counting the beats. It was one I knew well. "It's all a part of our plan."

"Ah! A big comeback! Nice!" Brett nodded with approval as he handed me a microphone.

"Thanks," I said, taking the mic and looking back at Felix. "Be right back."

Felix smiled and winked at me in response.

I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't melt a little as I smiled back, before I bounded onto the stage and jumped into the song.

As my voice melted into the music, blending in perfectly with the chords of the song, I sauntered up to the front of the stage and stood next to the blonde. From the glances I caught as I crossed the stage, Jeff and Roland looked shocked, and Steve was seething. The new blonde just looked terrified.

We all continued to play, however, and after I'd seamlessly embedded myself into the show, I took over the vocals, leaving the other blonde to continue holding things up on guitar.

We rocked through the set - A1, truly - and, as soon as we were off stage, no one missed a beat.

"Lucy!" Roland exclaimed as he hugged me, lifting me up and spinning me in a circle as he did so.

"Ay! You're gonna take one of my eyes out with those," I laughed, waving at the drumsticks he still had clutched in his hand.

"You must be Lucy's sugar daddy," Jeff said, nodding at Felix as he took his bass off and set it down in it's case.

Felix raised his eyebrows. "Is that what he told you," he said, giving Steve a hard look.

I shot Steve a glare, but it was unnecessary; he looked like he was going to shit himself because of Felix's strong stare.

"Are you not?" Jeff asked Felix.

"No! He's my husband!" I explained.

"Sugar babies marry their sugar daddies sometimes," Roland pointed out.

"My god, you're a genius," I replied facetiously, although, knowing Roland there was a fifty/fifty chance that he didn't pick up on it.

"Hey, no sweat," Jeff interjected. "Nice to meet you Felix. I'm Jeff, this is Roland, Steve, and this is Lucy Two," he said, gesturing towards the blonde.

"Lucy Two?" Felix guffawed.

"That's not her name," Steve snapped at the group.

I exhaled loudly and shook my head. "I leave town for a minute and you run off and replace me? Unbelievable."

"In more ways than one," Roland said, "Steve's dating her, too."

"You used to date him?" Felix asked me, barely containing his judgmental laughter.

"No! Of course not!" I exclaimed, mortified by the mere implication. Steve was so...not it. I glanced over at Steve and gave him a disgusted look. "This is fucked, right? You know that?"

"She's nothing like you," Steve shot back; his denial was flimsy, as best.

"She looks an awful lot like her if you ask me," Felix said, just to fan the flames. He gave Lucy Two a generous smile.

A jealous pang hit me like a ton of bricks as Lucy Two blushed profusely in return. Steve didn't look impressed, either.

"Look, its not a big deal, Luc," Jeff told me, reassuringly. "She's just been keeping your seat warm."

"No," Steve interjected harshly, "Lucy ditched us. She's out of the band."

Steve was wounding my pride, but as much as I wanted to make him look like a little bitch, he was providing me with a clean out. I had to bow out of the band, anyway, and drama was the best cover. People tended not to ask questions when they were pissed.

"You know what? You can keep the band, Steve. I quit," I said bitterly, playing it up.

"You quit? You can't quit, Luc," Roland protested.

"I can, and I am," I insisted. "And don't worry, I won't stick around long. I'll just pack up my shit back at the house and go."

I held out my hand expectantly toward Lucy Two, who still had my guitar, and she surrendered it without a fight.

"Frickin' see ya," I said before turning theatrically to leave.

"You don't get to quit," Steve spoke up. "What about 'kicked out of the band' do you not understand?"

I turned around slowly and stared at him. "Excuse me?"

I hadn't anticipated him to back sass me. Steve never stood up to me; he always let me have it my way.

"I'm sorry," he said boldly. "Did I stutter?"

I stared back at him for a long, drawn out moment before handing my guitar to Jeff, who happened to be standing closest to me at that moment.

As soon as the guitar left my hands, I lunged.