Peeta
I walk into the run down bar and pull off my wet jacket as I sit down at the counter. I order a jack on the rocks and the bartender sets it in front of me.
"The rain bring you in?" He asks and I nod.
"Yeah, they sure don't have storms like these in Detroit, or at least it never seemed like that while I lived there," I say.
"You from there?" He asks.
"Yep, but right now, I'm just taking the trains until I find somewhere worth living," I say and then chuckle, "or I guess until my money runs dry."
"Yeah, we get a lot of kids like you through here," he says. "Though most drink in the back and try to earn their way to the strip on that platform over there." He points to the back of the bar, where two guys are setting up sound equipment.
"Got anybody good tonight?" I ask, knowing from my last week of bar hopping the type he's talking about.
"The first one is pretty good from what I heard," he says. "A little band from just over the Ohio River in West Virginia. Supposedly their little front woman can really wail. And she most definitely isn't the worst looking girl to pass through here, even with the tats and makeup.
"What they called?" I ask.
"Kitty Black and the Starlings," he says. "But some people have taken to calling their singer "The Killer Queen" because of a dagger tattooed on her arm." He looks behind me and nods. "Speaking of which, here they go."
I hear guitars and drums start the melody of "I Was Made For Loving You" by Kiss. I look to see a group of four people, two guys and two girls, standing on the previously empty platform.
The girl in the middle is clad in tight black leather pants, stilettos, and a black bikini top covered in silver in suds. She has tattoos of chains covering her abdomen and as the bartender had said, a dagger along the inside of her left forearm. Her eyes are done in dark, nearly black makeup and she wears deep red lipstick. She plays her charcoal grey guitar as she begins the vocals in her female rendition of the rock anthem.
"Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do
"Tonight I wanna give it all to you
In the darkness
There's so much I wanna do
"And tonight I wanna lay it at your feet
'Cause boy, I was made for you
And boy, you were made for me
"I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can't get enough of you baby
Can you get enough of me
"Tonight I wanna see it in your eyes
Feel the magic
There's something that drives me wild
"And tonight we're gonna make it all come true
'Cause boy, you were made for me
And boy I was made for you
"I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can't get enough of you baby
Can you get enough of me
"I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can give it all to you baby
Can you give it all to me
"Oh, can't get enough, oh, oh
I can't get enough, oh, oh
I can't get enough
Yeah, ha," She takes a step back as her friends take over to show off their skills, but I can't take my eyes off her. She is breathtaking, making the song her own like some kind of Rock and Roll goddess. She flips her long dark hair out of her face and glances my way, but I doubt she can see me across the crowd surrounding her. She steps back to her mic and begins to sing again.
"Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do
"I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can't get enough of you baby
Can you get enough of me
"Oh, I was made, you were made
I can't get enough
No, I can't get enough
"I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can't get enough of you baby
Can you get enough of me
"I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can give it all to you baby" The song ends and she's showered in applause. She great fully accepts it and goes on to finish her set of three songs. Then her and her band leave after collecting their earnings from a hat they pass around.
I stay for maybe another hour and a half before I finish my second drink and collect my things from where I laid them on the bar. I walk five blocks through the rain to the train station. It's nearly empty accept for a few homeless people and a girl about my age.
Her hair hangs in a braid down her shoulder and she has her hood pulled tight over her head. A guitar case hangs over her shoulder and she has a beat up old suit case in her hand. She glances at me as I walk up the platform, but pays me no attention other than that. The train arrives and the two of us board and I decide to see if I can get to know her, just be able to talk to someone on the long train ride. She sits down in the corner and sets her things beside her. I stand beside her.
"Do you mind if I sit with you?" I ask. She looks at me and something about her eyes seems familiar.
"I guess not," she says, her slightly horse voice tinged with a light southern accent. I sit down across from her and can see her face a little clearer.
"Are you okay?" I ask. She looks at me strange.
"If you're going to be nosy, you can always go bug someone else,"
She says.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to be nosy. Your voice just sounds a little scratchy."
"Oh, yeah, I guess it does," she says, "My voice is just a little sore. I sang with some of my friends at a karaoke bar tonight. I think I strained it a little."
"You like music? I ask.
"I thought you would have guessed that from my Gibson," she says and I laugh.
"Well now I feel like I've made a fool of myself," I say and she smiles.
"Maybe a little," she says. "But it makes you more human."
"Where you from?" I ask.
"Just inside West Virginia, a little town beside the Ohio," she says. "So small no one knows the name outside the county. You?"
"Detroit," I say. "I'm just trying to find somewhere I belong."
"Me too," she says before holding out her hand. "I'm Katniss by the way." I take her hand.
"Peeta," I say. She smiles and pushes her hood off. She gorgeous with dark grey eyes and a rich olive completion. She brushes her bangs out of her face and then leans on her fist. Her gaze is somewhat familiar and she seems to notice.
"What?" She asks.
"You look really familiar," I say. "We're you at The Hob tonight? I think I might have seen you there." She sits back nervously and notice the edge of a tattoo sticking out of her sleeve.
"Yeah, I guess that's possible," She says. "My friends and I, we uh, we sang around ten." I sit back for a moment.
"Let me see your arm," I say. She lets out a sigh, looks down, and pulls her sleeve back to show off Kitty Black's Killer Queen tattoo.
YOU ARE READING
The Killer Queen
FanfictionIt's the 1980's. She makes her money singing in bars, trying to pave her way to LA and a recording contract. He's just a troubled boy going wherever the trains will take him. In reality, their paths would only cross if he stopped to get a drink at...
