~~~

Excuse the mistakes

~~~

I'm not a material girl. Sorry Madonna.

I didn't need designer brands. My wardrobe consisted mostly of jeans I'd had since ninth grade, t-shirts, and hoodies. I didn't have the latest iPhone, but rather a dinky little Nano I was completely happy with. I wasn't overly concerned if I didn't have the latest gadget or the trendy, forty dollar jeans.

However, when I get ready for a gig, all bets are off, and I become the pickiest person in the world. For those few hours that I'm out at a gig, I can adopt the hardcore rocker look that gives me confidence. I could wear heavier eyeliner, tight, eye-catching shirts, and whatever else I wanted. Maybe that sounds like pretending, but to me, my gig outfits perfectly reflect who I am in that moment.

I glanced at my alarm clock and groaned in frustration. I didn't have a lot of time before RJ picked me up, and I had yet to pick out an outfit, do my makeup, and fix my hair. Time was running out, and I still looked like a slightly dumpy high schooler.

Just pick something! My mind yelled impatiently, and I sighed. I knelt down in front of the already open bottom drawer of my dresser, and I started to sift through the clothes. My concert clothes were my most expensive, but they were also my favorite so it was worth it. To be honest, I'd bought quite a few pieces from Mel.

Finally, I managed to settle on an outfit. I changed out of my jeans and purple tank top, and I pulled on a pair of slightly shredded black sheer tights. I pulled on a pair of light blue shorts and one of my band t-shirts, this one featuring the cover of Muse's Absolution CD. I tucked one side of the t-shirt into the waistband of my shorts and pulled on a leather jacket that I'd stolen from Connor.

Then, I settled in front of the full length mirror that was leaning against my wall, and I grabbed my small makeup bag. I brushed my eyelids with some gray eye shadow, and after lining them and adding some mascara into the mix, I was happy with the smokiness of the eye makeup.

On my lips, I just went with some chapstick that shimmered a little. Have you ever had to deal with congealed lips gloss on a microphone? It was absolutely disgusting!

Just as I finished running a brush somewhat roughly through my hair, my phone vibrated loudly against the wooden top of my desk. I scrambled to my feet and answered the phone quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hey Linds," came RJ's greeting, "I'm outside."

"Alright," I replied, shoving my feet into a pair of combat boots, "I'll be right out." RJ grunted and then the line went dead as he hung up his phone. This was usually how our conversations went every time RJ came to get me. He had only come to the front door once.

RJ hated my mom. He hated the way she treated me, the way that I'd been forced to become an adult so early, and he especially hated the way she'd told me to suck it up every time Carter made me feel awful. The resentment was somewhat mutual, though, because my mom saw RJ as an instigator in my passion for music, which was something she didn't support.

I swung my purse onto my shoulder and I grabbed my guitar case off of the end of my bed. I threw my brush and a few hair ties into my purse, since I hadn't had a chance to finish doing my hair, and I hurried out of my room and down the stairs.

As my hand wrapped around the door knob of the front door, I sensed someone behind me, and I turned to see my mom. For a moment, we just stared at each other. There was a can of what looked to be beer in her hand, and she had a glassy look to her eyes that happened when she was starting to get buzzed.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice accusing me of doing something that I shouldn't.

"Out," I replied quickly, my body itching to be out of this house and in RJ's car, on the way to my gig.

"Out?" she echoed questioningly, and her eyes narrowed.

"Yes," I stated stiffly, "I have a gig tonight."

"Well have fun with your stupid ass band," my mom scoffed, and she walked into the living room without a second glance. Her words stung, but I hated to say that I'm used to her saying negative things like that. Despite occasionally asking me to sing her to sleep when she was drunk, my mom didn't support my music, and she bashed it all the time.

I took a deep breath, and I slipped through the front door into the cold, windy evening. I hurried across my lawn and climbed into the passenger seat of RJ's truck. "Hey." I breathed, shoving my guitar case on the small stretch of the car seat between RJ and me.

"You okay there?" RJ asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Splendid," I answered sarcastically, and I buckled the seat belt firmly across my body. RJ knew I wasn't, and that it probably had something to do with my mother, but he also knew not to pry.

"Are we picking Ethan up?" I asked as RJ sped down my street to the main road. Ethan had mentioned something about his "complete shithead of a car" having a muffler problem.

"Nope," RJ answered, "I asked him this afternoon, but Ethan said that his mom is going to drive him." We looked at each other for a moment before laughing loudly.

Unlike me, Ethan was a total mama's boy. His dad worked a lot, so Ethan and his mom formed a really strong bond, which survived to this day. Instead of living on his college campus, Ethan lived in his parents' basement. I'm pretty sure Ethan's mom still picked out his clothes.

We drove to The Garage in a comfortable silence, and I looked up at the stars through the window of the truck. I was already getting an antsy ache in the pit of my stomach, which I got before every gig. Thankfully, the crowd that came to The Garage wasn't huge, so I'd never thrown up before going onstage.

RJ pulled into the back parking lot of The Garage, and he parked in his usual spot. I ducked out of the car, and I tugged my guitar case out after me. As I shut the car door, I saw Ethan's mom's car drive into the parking lot.

"Hi Lindsay!" Ethan's mom called, waving vigorously, "Hi RJ!"

"Hi Mrs. Hall," I replied, chuckling, "It's nice to see you!"

Ethan's mom grinned, and as Ethan started to close the door, she yelled, "Break a leg, Sweetie Pie!"

"Bye, Ma!" Ethan replied enthusiastically, and he walked over to where RJ and I were waiting. Ethan's mom's car did a three point turn and as it drove out of the parking lot, I started giggling. "What?" Ethan asked defensively.

"Oh nothing," I paused for a moment before adding, "Sweetie Pie!" RJ and I burst into laughter, and I had to hold onto his shoulder to keep myself steadied. After a good couple minutes of laughing, I calmed down enough to see a pouting Ethan.

"You okay there, Sweetie Pie?" I asked, my words distorted by my giggles.

"It's not that funny," Ethan grumbled, and I snorted in disagreement. Ethan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Whatever, I'm going inside, okay? You two immature assholes can sit out here and make fun of me."

Ethan turned and stomped over to the back door, and RJ and I followed close behind as we tried to regain our composure. I entered The Garage behind the boys, and we walked down the dimly lit hallway to the bar, which was already pretty full.

"I'm gonna get my Strat," I said to RJ and Ethan, and I nodded towards the storage room. "Can one of you get some water bottles for the show?"

"I'll go it," Ethan said, and turned and hurried towards the bar. RJ and I watched for a moment as he exchanged a few words with Mel. Ethan had the biggest crush on her, and Mel knew it. Nothing was ever going to happen between them, but she liked to flirt with Ethan because it was entertaining.

"I'll get the keys," RJ said, and I nodded. He wove his way to the bar, and I watched as Ethan barely looked at him when Mel handed RJ her keys. Shaking my head in amusement, I turned and scanned the bar. There were plenty of people here, which just made more nerves curl in the pit of my stomach.

Suddenly, RJ reappeared in front of me, making me jump in surprise. "He's like a little puppy dog," he commented regarding Ethan, and I chuckled.

"C'mon," I said, and we started towards the storage room. I walked past the stage, which was already set up since there was a gig tonight, and I unlocked the door of the storage room. I grabbed my Strat off of the shelf I'd left it on last night, and RJ took the keys back and walked over to give them back to Mel.

With my Strat's case in hand, I followed RJ to the backroom. I smiled at the few people I recognized, and then I entered the back room as RJ held the door open for me. I blew my bangs out of my face, and then I realized I still had to do something with my hair.

"I'll be right back," I said, placing my guitar cases on the sofa.

"Where are you going?" RJ asked as he pulled out his bass and started playing random chords.

I pointed to my hair and replied simply with, "girl problems." RJ laughed, and I cracked a smile before slipping out the door. I walked down the hall to the girl's bathroom, which thankfully, was empty. The black walls of the bathroom were covered in peeling stickers and doodles drawn with silver sharpies.

I walked over to the mirror and squinted in the harsh overhead light. I thought about doing some elaborate, kickass hair style, but before I even started, I gave up. So, instead, I just braided a couple small sections of my dirty blonde hair, and then I pulled it all up into a ponytail that swept down between my shoulder blades.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom banged open, and a woman who looked to be in her early thirties walked in. We exchanged customary acknowledgement smiles, but from the way she forced hers, I could tell she was frustrated.

The woman disappeared into the bathroom, and a second later, I heard her start talking quietly on her cell phone. From what I could gather, she was talking to a colleague or boss, and something was wrong.

Suddenly, I got the uncomfortable feeling that I should probably leave the bathroom, so I quickly shoved my brush back into my purse, and I hurried from the room. I walked down the hallway, my fingers lightly brushing the painted walls, and I reentered the backroom.

Ethan was sitting on the sofa, tapping a pattern against his thighs with his drumsticks, and RJ was standing with his back to me, still playing his bass. "Did you get the waters?" I asked, coming to plop down next to Ethan.

Without a word, he nodded to the small coffee table, where a bunch of bottles sat. I nodded, and then I pulled my Strat out of its case. I started practicing one of the complicated chord progressions that gave me trouble, especially since I was singing at the same time.

There was a knock at the door, and a second later, Rufus walked into the room. "What's up Boss-man?" I asked, tipping my head to the side.

"You're on in five, serving wench," Rufus replied, giving me a look that told me he was amused, but not in the mood for jokes. "I thought I'd just let you guys know that the crowd tonight is bigger than usual."

"Really?" I asked, frowning. The uneasy feeling in my stomach got worse, and I swallowed hard.

"Yeah," Rufus confirmed, oblivious to my reservations, "Apparently people didn't get the memo that Ashley's Desire, the band you're replacing, isn't playing tonight."

"Well, that's great," RJ muttered sarcastically. "We're going to get out there and the audience doesn't even want us here."

"You'll be fine," Rufus stated reassuringly, "Just play how you always do, and the crowd will think you're just as good as Ashley's Desire, if not better." He gave each of us a meaningful look and then opened the door. "Five minutes, guys," Rufus reminded us, and then he was gone.

Ethan, RJ, and I looked at each other for a moment, and I could tell that we were all nervous. I let out a deep breath and put each of my hands on the boys' shoulders. "Rufus is right. If we play just as hard as ever, we'll kick some major ass!"

"Since when did you become the reassuring one?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow. He was right; RJ was the one who calmed Ethan and me down before a show, but he looked sick to his stomach at the moment.

"Doesn't matter," I replied seriously, "What does matter, though, is that we go out there and give the audience a hell of a show."

"Here, here," RJ added, and the corners of his mouth curved up into a small smile.

"C'mon," I said, after a moment of silent understanding between me and my band mates, "Let's get to the stage." The boys nodded in agreement, and I slung my Strat's strap over my head so that it hung snugly on my shoulders. Then, I grabbed my acoustic by its neck and followed RJ and Ethan out of the backroom.

The lighting on the stage was already set, and RJ signaled Rufus from where he stood on the other side of the stage, where he was talking to Claire. Rufus nodded, and a few seconds later, he climbed up onto the stage to get the attention of the crowd.

"Welcome to The Garage everyone!" Rufus called, the microphone in front of him amplifying his voice. The crowd cheered, and Rufus gave them a moment before putting up his hands. "Let's get the music going! Please welcome... Hardly Human!"

There was clapping, but along with lackluster enthusiasm, there were murmurs of confusion within the crowd. "See?" RJ whispered into my ear, "They don't want us."

"Just shut up and get your ass on stage," I hissed, trying to sound confident, when in reality, I was starting to feel the vomit rising in my throat. RJ hesitated for a moment before sighing and climbing up onto the stage. Ethan followed suit, and I pressed my hand against my heart before hopping onto the stage and going to stand in front of the microphone.

"We're Hardly Human," I stated quietly, and then I turned and looked at RJ and Ethan. "Ready?" I whispered, and they both nodded. Ethan counted to three, and we dove into "Vindicated" by Dashboard Confessional.

As I finished the short instrumental prelude in the song, I turned and leaned into the microphone. "Hope dangles on a string like slow spinning redemption, winding in and winding out, the shine of it has caught my eye. Roped me in so, mesmerizing, so hypnotizing, I am captivated, I am vindicated!"

As I started wholeheartedly into the rest of the song, I felt myself relaxing. The melody was flowing through me, and my whole body was buzzing. The crowd didn't seem to care anymore that we weren't Ashley's Desire, and they were getting into our performance.

As soon as we finished "Vindicated", I got a quick drink of water, and then I started into "Basket Case", a personal favorite by Green Day. Ethan, RJ and I were all feeding off of the energy crackling throughout the bar, and it felt amazing.

After finishing the duet I did with RJ, which was one of the last songs in our set, I set my Strat down on its stand and picked up my acoustic guitar. "If you don't mind," I said into the microphone, "I'm gonna slow things down for a song."

The crowd cheered, and as I found my finger position on the frets, I looked up and noticed the woman from the bathroom. She was one of the only people sitting, and her hands were crossed stiffly across her chest. She had a look on her face like she was interested in the show, but she was thinking hard.

I was curious, but I just shook my head and focused on the song. My fingers pressed against the different chords as I strummed the guitar, and I closed my eyes as I started to sing.

Come on skinny love just last the year

Pour a little salt, we were never here

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

Tell my love to wreck it all

Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Right in this moment this order's tall

My eyes opened, and I let out a quick sigh before continuing with the song.

And I told you to be patient

And I told you to be fine

And I told you to be balanced

And I told you to be kind

In the morning I'll be with you

But it will be a different kind

I'll be holding all the tickets

And you'll be holding all the fines

Come on skinny love, what happened here?

We suckled on the hope in light brassieres

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Sullen load is full, so slow on the split

And I told you to be patient

And I told you to be fine

And I told you to be balanced

And I told you to be kind

And now all your love is wasted

And then who the hell was I?

And now I'm breaking at the britches

At the end of all your lies.

Who will love you?

Who will fight?

Who will fall far behind?

Ooh, ooh

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and finished the song strong.

Come on skinny love

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

As the song drew to a close, I glanced back at the woman from earlier to see a completely different expression on her face. The thoughtful, tight lipped frown had changed into a look of happiness and even relief. And, she was standing.

I finished the song with a flourish, and then I grabbed my Strat once again. "We're Hardly Human," I said into the microphone, "You've been a great audience, and this is our last song." The crowd clapped, and I glanced back at Ethan and nodded at him to count down into "Battle for the Sun" by Placebo.

Just as the song started, it seemed to end, and our gig was over. I curtsied and waved goodbye to the audience, and I walked reluctantly off the stage. I grabbed my acoustic guitar and slipped back to the backroom.

"That was kickass!" I cried, and a grin plastered itself onto my face, "Did you hear them when we did 'Icky Thump?"

"Yeah, they got way into it," RJ replied, equally as excited as I was.

"I am on a such a high right now," I said as I put away my guitars, "I can't even... That was just such a good performance!"

"I think it was our best yet," Ethan commented, and I nodded in agreement. I started to add something, but suddenly, the door opened, and Rufus walked in. More surprisingly, the woman I'd kept noticing throughout the gig walked in behind him.

"Hi," I said, frowning confusedly, "What's up, Rufus?"

"Why don't you guys sit down?" Rufus suggested, and he had this knowing smile on his face, like he was fit to burst. The boys and I shared a curious look, but we listened and settled down on the couch. The woman sat down on the edge of a folding chair across from us, and Rufus leaned against the wall.

"Hello," The woman said, giving us all a warm smile, "My name is Ronnie Garcia, and I represent Emergency Records."

"Seriously?" I blurted, my eyes widening, "Emergency Records?" Ronnie nodded, and I felt a colony of butterflies going crazy in my stomach. Emergency records had launched the careers of people like Darcy Wales, who'd just gone through an entire sound change, and one of my favorite bands, Culture Shock. They were huge!

"My name's Lindsay," I said hurriedly, and I pointed and Ethan and RJ and said their names respectively. "Thank you so much for coming to our show!"

"Well," Ronnie said, shrugging, "I actually came to see Ashley's Desire after they begged the label to send someone. Then, since they didn't bother telling me they weren't playing tonight, I decided to stick around and see how you would do."

"And what did you think?" I asked, leaning forwards without thinking. I realized how desperate I was coming off, so I tried to relax.

"You were pretty good," Ronnie said honestly, "But it wasn't until you sang 'Skinny Love' that I recognized a true artist."

"Thanks," I breathed.

"I think you have what it takes to make it in the music industry," Ronnie stated, a smile playing on her lips as she stared straight at me.

"Does that mean we're going to be signed?" Ethan asked, his voice high with excitement.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ronnie said, frowning and looking taken aback. "I think you've misunderstood me. I was just talking about Lindsay."

"What?" I asked, confusedly, "You just said you think we have what it takes to make it."

"No, Lindsay, I said you," Ronnie clarified, "I want to sign you, but only you. Lindsay, honey, you're going to need to go solo."

~~~

FAN

VOTE

SHARE

COMMENT

~~~