Unchained | Hiatus

Chapter 7: Hanging on the Promises

Brandi awoke early the following morning, blankets strewn over her and two other sleeping bodies. She turned to see Michael and she drew terrified breath through clamped teeth and began shivering. A female arm was draped over Michael's neck and Brandi rose a bit to find Debbie slumbering beside the fit body of Michael. Brandi couldn't help it as she threw the covers from her and dry-heaved over the side of the bed. She had an empty, rumbling stomach.

No one woke and she pulled her shirt on discreetly. She pulled the elastic of her underwear when she felt a slight wetness and nearly dry-heaved her esophagus when she noticed little speckles of dried blood. Michael had taken her virginity. She grabbed her pants and stumbled into Michael's living room, falling back on the decrepit couch, dry heaving until it hurt her stomach. She pulled her pants on, checked her pockets, and left for her apartment, stopping to lean against a chipping wall as she heaved again unintentionally. She felt disgusted, but pressed on until she got to her apartment down a tributary hall.

Producing a key from her pocket, she jammed it into her lock, nearly kicking the door down when it clicked. She slammed the door shut, but reopened it when she realized she forgot the key in the lock. Not only had she lost her virginity to a twenty year old, she had slept with woman-- a bandmate, no less-- and she wasn't even sure how she felt about it. With shocking realization, Brandi noticed that she didn't regret anything. Breathing heavily, Brandi retired to her own bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

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Kingdom was already packed by six-forty. Gloria was swamped at the bar while three other tenders took orders around the room. As Brandi peered around the door of the ladies room, pride engulfed her. Sinner hadn't played for this many people before; perhaps the party idea was a good one.

Alex peered around the door beside Brandi. She grabbed Brandi's shoulder strongly and pointed to a shady character at the bar who slightly resembled a less-extravagant Al Capone. "That's Max Mahony from White Lion records!" The two slid bad into the dingy bathroom.

"You're joking," Brandi hissed. She turned to Rizzy and Debbi-- who had become very stand-offish since their night together-- and cheered, "There is a record producer in the crowd!"

"Max Mahony from White Lion!" Alex supplied with a giddy hop. "I think I saw Jason Bowie from Europonic records, too, but I'm not sure. We've gotta sell sex tonight, girls."

Debbie screeched with merriment and even Rizzy seemed to take a break from her intimidating disposition to grin, hiding it with a gloved hand quickly. Debbie leaned against the bathroom counter and kissed the vanity mirror, leaving cracked pink lips on the glass besides several other unclaimed stains that had been put there in tradition. She frowned. "We don't look like we're selling sex."

She wore a long black Clash shirt over a pair of acid wash jeans while Alex wore a snug red dress. Brandi adjusted her studded bra and cop hat, then tugged at her high-waisted pleather shorts, eyeing Rizzy, clad head-to-toe in complimenting leather. Without a word, each girl emptied the contents of their pockets onto the counter, lipstick, picks, coins, and pocket knives among them.

"A knife, Riz?" Brandi asked, examining her skeptically. Rizzy shrugged with closed eyes, but said nothing. Brandi faced their reflections in the mirror. "Deb, take this knife and cut your shirt to your boobs. Do it. Alex, draw lines on your face with my red lipstick. Rizzy, take this comb and tease your hair over your eyes. Don't give me that look, just do it. I need toilet paper." Debbie took of her shirt and turn away so nobody could see her bare chest. "It's not like I've never seen you naked before, Deb."