⭐Winner - Punk Rock Awards Grand Prize 2023 ⭐It's the 1990s and love-phobic Aussie rock chick Ellie Devine must resist the charms of sexy pop star Daniel Armstrong to save her band's songs from their vengeful ex-lead singer.
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~1991~
~BACKSTAGE, AFTERBLAST CONCERT~
~MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA~
An empty beer can sailed out of the heaving crowd and pinged into Ellie Devine's guitar. From the side of the stage, Ellie could make out some metal-head yobbos assembling their mates to start a chant. She dropped the heavy curtain and turned to Kim and Meg in the dark corridor behind her.
"What'll we do if Jessie doesn't show?"
"You're gonna have to sing," Meg said, nibbling at her chipped black nail-polish.
Ellie raked her fingers through her peroxide-blonde hair. "She'll be here," she muttered. After all, there'd been at least twenty gigs where Jessie rocked up late, hadn't there? She always turned up right before crunch time—right before they were about to go on—half-baked, draped over some sleazebag musician. All Ellie had to do was spend an exasperating five minutes getting Jessie to focus on the show.
On doing her fucking job.
Ellie flicked her eyes across to Kim who paced the dingy corridor in heavy boots, jeans and a Black Flag singlet top. "Jessie's gonna show, right, Kim?"
Tapping her drumsticks against her chin, Kim let out a low growl. "What the hell does Jessie think is more important than supporting the biggest band in Australia?"
"Rooting the singer of the biggest band in Australia?" Meg nudged her elbow into Ellie's ribs. "He's a total spunk-rat, though. You reckon he goes commando—"
Ellie groaned. "We're about to play the biggest gig of our career, Jessie's a no-show and all you give a shit about is some lead singer's jocks?"
Meg grunted and resumed chewing her nail polish, her kohl-rimmed eyes searching the dimly lit corridor.
In the scratched mirror next to the heaving curtain, Ellie's cheeks flashed pools of pink even though she'd applied a bucket load of concealer and powder. Her thick eye make-up made her green eyes huge above her deep red—almost black—lipstick. She couldn't help notice the look in her eyes: shit scared.
This gig was the most important gig they'd ever played. It mattered. Afterblast had made it into the Top Ten. Ellie had seen their latest clip on Saturday morning's Video Smash Hits. This show had drawn music reps from right across Australia - P.R. schmoozers and music journos who could transform lives with one deft squiggle of their pen.
Slider had to go on.
The velvet curtains shook as a muffled chant rumbled through the theatre like an approaching storm. Ellie's heart thundered along with it thick and fast in her chest.
Sam barrelled up the staircase, his dirty-blond mullet sticky with sweat. He gripped Ellie's arm. "Afterblast's crew want you guys on that stage now."
