Colors Between Us

The Proposal

My eyes widen at the abrupt request. Out of all the fifteen other people sitting on the V.I.P balcony, why would the band want to see me? To be honest, nothing about me screams "important New Yorker." I wear thrifted jackets over tank tops with ripped jeans the majority of the time. That and the large camera that hangs around my neck. If you saw me in a bar, your first thought would be "She looks like she works at a Starbucks and has a side passion that is looked over", which would be somewhat accurate.

The tall man begins to walk in the opposite direction of the exit and my legs instinctively follow. Why? My body knows me better than my mind, therefore all my decisions are impulsive. Hence the reason why I moved to New York City with an associate degree and a couple of thousand saved up from my parent's tattoo shop.

After a few sharp turns and several doors labeled "Tech ONLY", we reach the dressing room door. Music and loud voices can be heard from outside the door, I already know that the room is going to be packed. The security guard jiggles his keys in his hands, unlocks the door in front of us, and pushes it open.

The first thing I notice is the overwhelming smell of liquor and weed that engulfs me as I walk in. This is exactly what I imagine a frat house to smell like. A few people that I notice from the balcony are sitting on couches to the right of me and the rest are making small talk in groups to my left. Everyone in between crowds the areas that are meant to be used for walking.

Izalea walks out of the bathroom and immediately notices me at the door. "Lia! I thought you wouldn't show until I saw you in the stands."

"A free concert? There's no way I'm passing that up." I chuckle.

"I don't blame you." She admits and grabs my hand. "Look, there are some people that I'd like you to meet."

I nod and she pulls me through the crowd into the area where the couches are lined up. Off the bat, I recognize Archer and Skylar sitting on the couch further into the room. Both are dressed in the same outfits they were wearing earlier and handling red solo cups. Jameson is nowhere in sight, but according to his newly found reputation, I'm not surprised.

Izalea pulls me onto the couch that the boys sit on. "Guys, this is the girl I met at Ed's last night. Remember, the tattoo artist?"

Skylar sets his cup down on the table. "Right. Nice to meet you... I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"It's Rosalia Jones, but I go by Lia," I say, forcing a small grin.

"Well, what brings you here on a Thursday, Lia. Don't you have a job?" Archer forcefully asks from beside Skylar.

"Come on man, don't be an asshole." The taller boy shakes his head at his friend's comment. "I'm sorry, he's a rude drunk."

"Trust me, I'm an angry drunk so I know how it is... But I just moved to New York from Arizona, and I have been applying to jobs for the past few days now." I admit.

Archer points to the large snake that trails down my arm. "Did you do that yourself?" He asks.

"I did most of it, but my dad did the areas I couldn't reach so it wouldn't look like shit," I respond, rubbing my arm.

"You did that yourself? With that talent, a tattoo shop will pick you up in a heartbeat, trust me." Izalea responds which makes me smile because compliments don't come easy.

"Well, I love doing tattoos, but my real passion is filming and producing. I was going to get my bachelors in Arizona, but I thought moving here was a smarter idea." I answer.

"Well... New York is a pretty large place full of opportunity so I'm sure you can find-" Skylar is cut off by a violent nudge from the boy beside him. The taller boy shares a look with the blonde and they both look toward Izalea. She furrows her eyebrows until she nods toward the brunette.