The Oncoming Storm

Chapter 1

"Come on, Kid! Show's startin' and your ass needs to be on stage!" Shouts Jerome from the backstage hallway. There's no answer from the Kid. "Kid! Let's go! I ain't playin'" Still no answer. "Wendy, Lisa, go get the Kid," Jerome demands as he angrily grabs his drumsticks and heads up the stairs to the stage.

Wendy and Lisa push open the door of the Kid's dressing room door and find him sitting alone in a chair facing the makeup mirror. He didn't even acknowledge Wendy and Lisa, he just continued staring blankly into the mirror.

"Kid, come on. We have to go on stage now," coaxed Wendy.

"Alright, I'm coming," sighed the Kid after a moment of silence.

"You know we have a show to play right now," said Lisa. "And you're kinda the lead. So you kinda really need to be out there."

The Kid silently stared back into the mirror.

"What are you even doing in here?" Wendy asked.

"Thinking," replied the Kid.

"About what?"

He didn't answer. The room fell silent again.

"Alright, let's go," said the Kid getting up from his chair and grabbing his guitar. "What are you two waiting for?" He snapped as he walked passed Wendy and Lisa. Lisa rolled her eyes and Wendy tried to suppress her giggle. Lisa glared back at Wendy.

"What? He's kinda funny!" giggled Wendy.

"He's an asshole," grumbled Lisa.

Up on stage, the Kid scanned the audience as they played their first song. The club was about half full. Crowds have been decreasing in size lately, and that troubled the Kid. At the back of the club where the tables are, the Kid spotted Jessica. He'll claim he wasn't looking for her, but he secretly always checks to see if she comes. She's his ex lover, and she left a real scar on his heart. She got him through some really rough patches, but who can blame her for leaving him? He can be an asshole sometimes... even to his women.

The Kid glared and gritted his teeth when he saw Jess sitting with another guy. Same guy she brought with her last show. Tall, light skinned, long black hair, and always obnoxiously smoking those cheap cigarettes. How can Jess even stand him? She hates cigarette smoke! The Kid was starting to wonder if she brings this punk to the club with her just to get under his skin. Jess knows the Kid still looks for her in the crowd. Maybe she hopes he'll spot her sitting with another man. Or maybe she's just moved on. Whatever the reason, it does get under the Kid's skin. He tries to claim he's not the jealous type... but it's obvious he is.

Wendy noticed the Kid gritting his teeth and angrily gripping his guitar. She knows exactly why too. It's no secret the Kid's a jealous scorned lover. She kicked him in the back of the knee, and when he spun around to face her, she mouthed, "Knock it off."

Before The Revolution began their next song, Wendy grabbed the Kid by his hair and pulled him backstage.

"Ouch! What the fuck, Wendy, I tell you a thousand times not to touch my fucking hair!" growled the Kid.

"Kid, you need to let it go!" said Wendy sternly.

"Let what go?"

"Jess! Stop looking at her and her man! Just stop! It makes you angry and when you're angry you mess up! You barely made it through that guitar solo. And when you screw up like that it makes all of us look bad."

The Kid just rolled his eyes.

"Come on," Wendy continued, "you're better than that. You just have to keep your cool when you're onstage. I could care less what you do when we're done playing. Just keep your anger off the stage."

"When I look at them sitting together I get angry."

"Then don't look at them."

"Well then, Wendy, where do I look?"

"Any-fucking-where else! Goddammit, Kid, you are so high-maintenance."

"I am not!"

"Whatever. We gotta get back out there now. Just don't look at Jess, and play your fucking guitar right this time."

Back out on stage, it took the Kid everything he had not to glance over at Jess and her punk. "What if they're kissing or laughing or... what if they love each other? What if she's not even looking up here at me?" the Kid wondered.

As The Revolution began playing one of their more popular songs, Little Red Corvette, someone new entered the club who caught the Kid's eye. She was tall, she had the same butterscotch skin as him, she had black curly hair teased high, and she was dressed bad ass in a black leather biker jacket, tight black leather pants, and stilleto heels. The Kid could see her bright red lipstick from all the way up on stage. And he liked what he saw.

She was definitely new around here. The Kid can recognize all the familiar faces that come to the club, but her pretty face was new to him. And she came in alone. No punk hanging on her shoulder. Her light brown cat eyes met with the Kid's eyes, and as he sang the first couple lines of the song, their gazes locked onto one another's. She soon sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. But for the whole song, the Kid kept his eyes on her. Every so often she would glance back up at him with those tantalizing eyes and her red lips would curl up into a smile. He's not letting her out of his sight.