It was 10:45 in the morning the next day, and Savannah stood in front of the mirror, studying herself. She was wearing her most rocker-esque outfit, that way she could impress the band during her interview with her fashion sense. She wasn't about to show up in casual sweatpants and a hoodie, claiming that she had the look the band was going for. No, she had to practice what she preached.

Her eyes looked herself up and down, verifying that she looked okay. She had on a short, black skirt with fishnet tights underneath, a Metallica shirt with a leather jacket on over it, and high heeled black boots. As for her makeup, her brown eyes were decorated with thick, long, winged eyeliner while blush emphasized her cheeks. Her long hair was down and wavy, with a part down the middle.

She nodded in satisfaction; she looked pretty good. She picked up her phone as well as her purse. You know, for going to an interview for a job that she wasn't super stoked about, she was pretty nervous. Of course, she did want the job, since she needed one and couldn't think of anything better (she would still be involved with music and would get to work with Rachel), but it wouldn't be the end of the world if she didn't get it. But, her nerves implied that it would be.

She walked out of her house, making sure to lock the door behind her. The chilly New Jersey air of a November day sent shivers through her. She didn't go back in and grab her coat, though. She always thought coats were pointless if the majority of the outing would be spent inside; all the coat would be doing would be providing a few minutes of warmth while taking up space in someone's house the rest of the outing.

She crossed her arms over her chest for warmth as she walked to her car. She felt a little wobbly in her heeled boots; she was never one to wear heeled anything. As the lovable girl trope goes, she was clumsy as hell. So, she dodged heeled shoes at every possible occurrence. But, today was an interview. She could make some allowances.

   After a short walk, she made it to her car. She unlocked it, hopped in, turned her keys into the ignition, and immediately cranked up the heat. After doing that necessary task, she put her phone on the holder attached to her vents, putting in the address that Rachel sent her.

   It was only five minutes away. She found it astounding that she had lived five minutes away from Rachel's band, and had never met any of them before.

Savannah buckled herself up and backed out of her driveway, turning on the radio.

Skid Row wasn't playing this time, but Mötley Crüe was. She grinned as she cranked the volume, jamming out to Dr. Feelgood. She knew that was a very basic favorite Mötley song to have, but she didn't care; Dr. Feelgood would forever reign supreme in her mind. Besides, it was everyone's favorite for a reason. If it was a shit song, nobody would like it.

After that song and Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard, Savannah was pulling into the driveway of the Skids' house. The nerves that the music had been holding off hit her once again, but she breathed and collected herself. Rachel had assured her that professionalism was not necessary with the Skids, so she didn't have to be anyone but herself. She tried to remember that as she took her key out of the ignition, stuffing her keys in her purse.

After a few more deep breaths, she hopped out of her car, shutting the door behind her. She made her way up the house's long driveway, eyeballing it as she did so. It was a nice house. Pretty big, but also somehow modest-looking. It was white with black shudders, and it had a good number of windows.

Speaking of windows, Savannah could see what looked like a face in one of them, peering down at her. She assumed that it was a curious band member, but some part of her warned her that this was the wrong house and she was disturbing some innocent person.

She knew this was her anxiety talking, but, just to make sure, she looked at the house number:

30.

She did indeed have the right house.

Alarmed at how much she freaked herself out, Savannah shook her head to herself as she approached the door. It was black and had a very cool, gargoyle knocker on it.

Very metal, she thought to herself. She wrapped her hand around the metal ring and used it to knock on the door. She always thought knockers were cool, and she was a little too enthused at being able to use one now.

   After a few seconds of waiting, Rachel opened the door, grinning at his best friend. "Hey, Sav!" he greeted her, stepping aside. "Come on in, man!"

   "Hey, Rach." Savannah stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She surveyed the house, which was pretty cool-looking. A leather sofa stood in the living room, a huge TV facing it. There was a pool table in the living room as well, and various posters and rock decor were placed sporadically throughout the room. She could see stairs leading to a second floor, which she assumed contained the band members' bedrooms. She could see the kitchen from where she stood as well; it contained black cabinets, a granite counter, and a sleek fridge.

   Savannah nodded in approval. "Nice pad."

   Rachel chuckled at her slang. "Thanks."

   That's when the two friends began to hear rapid thumping, almost like a bowling ball was being chucked down the stairs. But, both of them came to realize that it was not a bowling ball, but rather a tall, gangly man with luxurious, blond hair excitedly charging down the steps. He had defined cheekbones and full lips, lips which were curled into a big smile.

   Savannah watched him, a little entranced by the speed at which he could descend the stairs. She had never seen him before, but just by the descriptions of Rachel's friends that she was given, she could almost guarantee that it was Sebastian.

   Once he finished his rapid decent, he stood in front of Savannah and continued to beam. "Hey! You must be Savannah, right?"

   She looked up at the towering man. Holy shit, he's tall, she thought. "Yep. You can call me Sav, though."

   "Killer. I'm Sebastian Bach, lead singer," he replied, sticking out his hand for her to shake. She noted that his arms were decorated with tattoos, and several bracelets circled his wrists. "You can call me Baz, if it pleases you."

   Savannah grabbed his hand, very aware of how attractive Sebastian was. She was suddenly self-conscious that her hands were sweaty. Sweating on her very attractive potential colleague was not a good look. "Nice to meet you, Baz." Her gaze fell on his tattoos again. "Sick tats."

   "Right? I think so, too. I really like this one." He retracted his hand and angled his arm so that she could see his "Youth Gone Wild" tattoo.

   "Epic, dude! I've heard that song on the radio, and it's fucking awesome!"

   "I like you already, Sav." When there was a brief pause in conversation, Sebastian looked up the staircase. "Where the fuck are the others?" He looked back at Savannah, jest in his eyes. "And they're always up my ass about being late."

   "Probably making themselves look presentable. They had quite a bit of fun last night," Rachel answered, smiling.

   "Drinking," Sebastian clarified, as if she had needed it.

   "I get that," Savannah chuckled. "You didn't, Baz? From what Rach tells me, you're kind of a party animal."

   Sebastian smiled slyly, seemingly proud of that reputation. "Hell yeah! But, nah, not last night. I kinda wanted a clear head for the interview."

   "If only Rob, Snake, and Scotti were that responsible," Rachel mumbled under his breath. "HEY, DICKWADS!" he shouted up the stairs. "WHAT'S TAKING YOU GUYS SO LONG?"

"WE'RE GETTING PRETTY!" a voice she didn't recognize shouted back.

"'GETTING PRETTY' DOESN'T TAKE THAT LONG!" Rachel responded in a mocking voice. "HURRY UP!"

"WE'RE DONE, COMING!" a different voice replied. Then, that bowling-ball-down-the-stairs sound came back as the three band members that had been getting ready charged down them.

Savannah studied their appearances as they reached the bottom:

The first one to finish his decent was a skinny man with brown eyes and long, dark hair. It looked more well-kept than hers, and she felt slightly jealous. He had a single patch of hair underneath his lips, and something about his demeanor looked very friendly. This, while unknown to her, was Scotti.

The second to finish his decent almost rammed into Scotti because of how suddenly he had stopped. He also had dark hair, but with blond highlights in it. His hair was very layered, and it framed his face in a really cool way. He had bangs that were parted down the middle, giving him a very alternative look. His physique was similar to Scotti's, and his facial expressions always seemed to look badass, no matter what he was doing. This was Snake.

And, finally, the last band member finished his decent, slightly calmer than Snake and Scotti. He was a little bulkier than Sebastian, Snake, and Scotti, but still fairly thin, and he wore a loose tank top. He had very curly, light brown hair with gentle eyes. His lips were full as well, but not as full as Sebastian's. When he smiled, his eyes squinted and the badass vibe he had possessed softened a little. This was Rob.

"Took you guys long enough," Sebastian scoffed. "This is Sav." He gestured at the woman in question with a friendly-seeming point.

"Well, I'm sorry!" Scotti apologized sarcastically. "I have an image to keep up." He looked at Savannah then, finally getting on task. "Hey, Sav. I'm Scotti." He held out a hand for her to shake, just as Sebastian did.

"Hey, Scotti, how's it going?" she replied, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

"It's going pretty good! Better now, now that I see that our potential fashion director has a kickass fashion sense!"

"Stop flirting, Scotti," Snake joked.

"Hey! Can I not compliment our potential colleague?"

"Of course you can," Savannah responded, genuinely flattered. "Thanks, man."

"No problem," he replied, releasing her hand.

"Move, my turn!" Snake said goofily. He pushed his friend out of the way of Savannah, stepping up to her with a chivalrous bow. "The name's Dave, but you can call me Snake, m'lady." He offered his hand in a gentlemanly way.

Savannah chuckled, grabbing his hand and shaking it as well. "Nice to meet you, Snake."

"Likewise, madame." He released her hand.

"And who's the one that's flirting?" Scotti shouted incredulously.

"You!" Snake shot back childishly.

"You're all children," Rob said. But, he had a loving tone to his voice. He held out his hand, too. "I'm Rob."

Savannah shook another hand. She vaguely thought to herself that she had shook more hands in the past two minutes than she had in her entire life. "Nice to meet you, too, Rob."

"Ew, you've got Rob germs on you now!" Scotti shrieked.

"I've also got Sebastian, Snake, and Scotti germs on me, too," Savannah added, releasing Rob's hand and jokingly wiping it on her skirt. "I'm a fucking breeding ground for germs."

"Hey, don't act like you don't want my germs," Sebastian defended himself, smiling slyly. "My germs are sexy."

"How can germs be sexy?" Rachel asked his friend. "Germs are. . .germs."

"Most people's aren't. But mine are." Sebastian shrugged. "That's just how it works. I can't control it."

   "Uh-huh. Anyway, while Sebastian sucks his own dick, maybe we should get started with the interview," Rachel suggested.

   "Hey!" Sebastian shouted in reply, crossing his arms and pouting.

   "Sounds good to me," Savannah said.

   "All right. Sit down, then," Rachel said, pointing to the leather couch.

   Savannah did, and Snake, Rob, and Scotti sat there as well. Sebastian sat on the floor in front of her, looking up at her with curiosity in his light brown eyes. Rachel pulled up the ottoman and sat on that.

   As Savannah surveyed the faces of each member of Skid Row, she really started to realize how much she wanted this job. These people were fucking awesome. When would she ever get a chance to work with people like them again?

   Her nerves spiked, but she calmed herself. She needed to be herself. It was working for her so far.

   Here we go.