"You guys are on in 20," Someone popped up in the back and reminded us, but I already was aware of this. I was keeping track of the time and tight schedule of this gig. I could feel the adrenaline and nerves running through me, and I felt a bit sick. But I was used to this.
"Tropical Bay, right? That's the band name?"
This sentence confused me. That wasn't our band name and never had been. Where had this idea come from? It wasn't even a good one.
"Uh, no. We aren't...."
"Yes we are!" Jen interjected, grinned at the darker skinned woman with a kind face, and danced off, further away from me.
The woman gave me a thumbs up, a little puzzled herself, and then walked out of the room.
I glared at Jen. Jen had been one of my friends since elementary. We used to be peas in the pod, sisters, close as man and dog, but things started changing in junior high and our friendship had never been as tight-knit as it used to be, regretfully. We still had one, but sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if sometimes we were close from drifting apart fully, dispersing as a faint, unnoticeable cloud in the sky.
"Jen, what are you keeping from me this time?"
She pursed her lips out and sat at the other side of the room. It was tempting to laugh at her concentration face that matched a duck face all too well. It wouldn't be new that she had been hiding something from me, yet again. She'd go through relationships, dance routines, so many things without bothering to tell me, very opposite of the old her, before she started hanging with the cool crowd and liking every boy who even so glanced in her general direction.
"Well, this isn't going to go down as smoothly as I hoped," she sighed, gliding and skipping towards me.
Jen always moved quite graceful, for she had been a dancer since a young age. She looked like one too. Her figure was tiny, she was so skinny, it almost seemed unhealthy, but and she was quite tall. Sometimes this build could make her appear insect-like, such as a prey mantis. But she had a very beautiful face and graceful movement, so it hardly seemed that way. This was unlike me, who was short, clumsy, but still quite skinny. Spending excessive time with Jen could even make a model feel fat, though.
"Tell me." I pleaded.
"You aren't going to like it."
This got the wheels in my brain turning. Great. Bad news minutes before a gig. She better have hurried it up and gone with it, if possible wait until the show was over so I wouldn't have a dark cloud break into my concentration.
"This show isn't going to go at all how you wanted."
"How so?" I questioned, knowing everything turned out a bit different from expected.
She looked away from me and stared at an amp backstage, as if something captivated her interest greatly from it, but I knew very well she wanted to keep something from me. This was always the act she played when she didn't want to say something or prolong saying it because the difficulty that came along with the words, or the emotions to follow.
"Obviously, we changed the band name. And the stage is decorated all tropical and beach-like to go with the name."
I rolled my eyes. Wow. Some "terrible" news.
"I don't care what the stage looks like, as long as we perform. And I'm not too fond of the name change, but I'll deal with it. It won't change us as a band."
I lied about the last bit. It honestly hurt that they decided to change the name without my consent, but I decided to pull up my grown up pants and deal with it.
"That's the thing. The performance won't be what you expected at all."
She glared furiously into the floor, as if she desired to bore a hole threw it. My patience snapped. I couldn't play along with these games anymore. I already had nerves, I didn't have to deal with all this confusion moments before a gig.
"Well, spit it out, Jen! We don't have all night!"
She held her willowy self together and muttered something, then began to speak clearly, aware of my annoyance and impatience, and conscious there may not be time to repeat whatever news she had to deliver.
"Well, um. We changed a lot of the setlist. And ya know how you're the main singer? That won't be the same tonight. We have some new sheets for you to look over for the new songs."
Now I couldn't control the rising anger inside of me. How dare they! Go changing everything around without even telling me! And here, now, I had to play new songs without any practice before hand?
"What the hell, Jen? Why tell me now? Why couldn't we go over this much before now? I'm part of this band, you know!"
Not to be egotistical, but I was a huge part of this band. Because, if it weren't for me, it wouldn't even have existed and Jen wouldn't be in it. She was only in it because of a promise I had made her when we were quite young, back in the days were everything was good and our friendship wasn't forced.
"We don't like you very much as a bandmate." Jen shrugged.
How funny was that? I gave it my all, I listened to everyone's opinion and worked with it, I wrote everything, I listened to her blabber on about 200 different guys she found attractive while I worked, I tried to get along with everybody, and most importantly, I didn't go around changing things drastically without conversing with everyone and speaking about our thoughts and opinions, especially not minutes before a show! Not just any concert; a gig show that could get us a record. Did she not understand how important this was?! All she did was fool around and giggle when we worked to the early hours of the morning! She hardly ever contributed. And I knew that she had, at least once, had the ability to play piano. I remember her beginning to learn it four years after I started, but she claimed she didn't want to do that in the band, that it was too boring and tedious to figure out the right parts to play. Sometimes having her in the band felt like a burden since she loved gossip and flirting, but we never threw her under the bus! Because we were friends, we patched things up and let grudges go. Well, at least we WERE friends.
"You can't do this to me," I half-yelled, half-sobbed, not believing what was happening. All I was sure of was that I was full of anger.
"then why is it happening? I talked to Joshy and even he said I'd be a fantastic lead singer."
I rolled my eyes. Of course. We should have never gotten a male drummer because she would flirt and bat her eyes at him and, eventually, have him under her clutches.
"You sing that weird, depressing song you wanted to for the first song. Then you play this," she threw some sheet music at me of a song I had never practiced before, "Where you sing lead, Then the next two songs you'll play, but you won't need to worry about singing at all. Then we'll be done! See? It isn't that bad!"
I fumed inside. I wanted to throw her against the wall and then choke her, not to death, but pretty close to that, and laugh as she gasped for breath and finally apologized for all the wrong she's done, since the beginning of when the friendship started flailing.
I was PISSED! It wasn't fair at all, throwing this all at me at last minute. Every band member keeping the secret from me until this horrific moment to reveal it.
"isn't that bad?! You merely just changed practically every thing, expect me to play something I've never even had a chance as to do little as look at, you don't want me to sing anymore, and you have the band against me. No, it isn't bad at all."
Obviously, yet again, she didn't understand my sarcasm. Jen smirked. "I'm glad to see we are on the same page!"
She practically dashed out of there, but I grabbed her arm, furiously digging my nails into her skin.
"OW!" she screeched, trying helplessly to get me to loosen my grip let go.
"What the heck, Em? Why do you want to hurt me?"
"THIS ISN'T FAIR! You're ruining my dream and changing everything. This isn't school! You aren't Ms. little-popular. Not everyone hangs onto your every word. Not everyone wants to follow you around. THIS" I spat "THIS is real life, and you can't go around changing everything to how you please. I'm not doing this." I let go of her arm, it shooting back like a cheap, rubber boomerang.
She glared at me aggressively, shooting daggers threw my face.
Jen turned towards me and pointed her finger at me, her silly fake nails uncomfortably close to my face.
"Yes you are. You're going to do this, you can play that stupid guitar solo at the beginning. We need you on guitar and piano, we have no one else. And don't expect me to sing the emo, opener song. You're going to do as I say. Last time I checked, this was a band, not a 'listen to Emma whine and cry marathon because she needs all the attention' We are in this together, whether you like that or not, you selfish attention hog. Or are you going to put your headphones in and hide in a corner, again? And I thought that you loved music, that it was your life and dream. Guess I thought wrong!"
Jen tried her best to pounce out of the room swiftly, but I couldn't let her off that easily, not after what she did to me, not after crushing this massive opportunity for my dream.
"I'm the one who loves music. You were never you. You followed everyone else, did things because other people like it."
It was honestly the truth. It had started off with silly, unimportant matters, such as falling in love with the celebrity crush I fancied, and listening to One Direction as the other girls had. But then it progressed and she followed what everyone did to be popular and had little of her own opinion.
Jen rolled her eyes. I couldn't stand the sight of her. What she had done was unfair, with little consideration, and just plain......evil.
"Whatever, Em. Don't be such a brat about it," she opened the blue, metallic door, and turned to me with an evil grin, "You're not even that great of a singer. Like the screeching cats you listen to."
After that, she was satisfied and left the room. The door clicked lightly behind her, and I stood there in dismay, alone and in shambles in the inside, still processing all that was happening.
I wanted to smash all the equipment surrounding me and the brass chairs into the wall, and then huddle in a corner; in a makeshift haven where no one could reach me. But now wasn't the time for that. The show must go on.
***
I walked slowly on the stage, guitar strapped to my back. I would not let them make a fool of me, the band that had once felt like a family, quirks and all. But they hadn't been as accepting with me as I had been with them, apparently.
I held my Peavey Raptor, my old friend, my guitar, and began with the riff of Plug In Baby. It felt so good, even if it only lasted a couple of seconds. It was as if I let all my emotions into the instrument and it was a part of me. In that moment, nothing else mattered.
The lights dimmed a little as the crowd cheered faintly and my voice resonated shakily from the microphone."Hello."
Silence followed and it felt awkward, but I held my stance.
"This band is called something....rather lame, actually. It's like 'Tropical Bay' or something," the crowd laughed. I wasn't sure if it was because of the name or the wispy, bubbly, fake voice I had used to say it. "Lacking. Wimpy. I used to be in it, in it's days under a different name, in it's better days. But not any longer."
"EMMA" Jen hissed.
I smirked at her slightly, then returned to what I was saying.
"No hard feelings. Great folks. Cool band, enjoy them. I'll play a little bit. They invited me as a guest," I lied.
And before there could be anymore disapprovals, I started the beginning for the song "Creep" on my guitar, along with the bass and secondary guitar. The soft, relaxing rhythm of the drumbeat soothed me, and I felt some of my anger seep away. This song was to be the only cover. The others would've been our songs that we rehearsed and practiced till we loved them, before Jen had to change everything and dragged everyone to where she wanted to where she wanted them to be.
I realised my vocal performance hadn't been the best from the beginning. It felt a little flat and slightly lacking. I let my mind free and looked over the heads of everyone in the crowd.
Now the song was really alive, it felt like the music was inside of me. I could relate to this Radiohead classic. Often I had felt like a weirdo, especially now within this band I was an outcast. The music surrounded, filled my veins, completed me. In these moments, nothing else mattered. And I could feel some of my rage leaking through the song, revealing my emotion to the audience. It felt magnificent. I was one with the music, and the music was me.
I broke into one of my favourite parts of the song. I hit with accuracy and feeling the notes of "She's running out again. She run run ruuuuuuunnnnn-"
There was so much passion behind this note, and I was glad I had passed it successfully. Then the song pulled away from the violent rage and turned more soft again, and I fixed the guitar playing to adjust to the magnificent change.
Then it was over, the crowd cheered, and I felt amazing.
But my brain was reminded of the setlist and what was to come.
I twisted the guitar to my back and played a few pieces on piano off memory, quickly so I wouldn't run Jen's patience, even though the idea of doing so made me smirk. Then I turned to the sheets in front of me, which included vocal and piano parts, which I'd need to know. My heart nearly dropped when I saw the lyrics, and I paused in my intro, then briefly continued only because of the crowd. I remembered these words. This was a song Jen had written with one of my foes and few months back and tried to keep hidden from me for some reason. At the time, I didn't take much attention to the discovery. She had every right to write her own music, but the realization hit now with a pit in my stomach, like the wind had been knocked out of me. She had been planning this all along. Jen had wanted to humiliate me. She had wanted to lead me along in blissful ignorance that everything was okay, but she had wanted to throw me out all along. Jen had thrown me in one of her drama pits, leading me blindly along.
I quit playing the song, happy to not sing the silly thing about teen love. The song had little connection with me personally.
I played the piano to a progression with darker chords and hissed into the microphone, composing on the spot "I've seen what you done. Lead, lead, along. Drag, drag, to the ground. Thanks for the ride of letting me clearly see the monster you've become." they certainly weren't the best lyrics I've done, but they're what came in the moment, and quite fitting. It's how I felt.
I went into a frenzy and then just thrashed the guitar, smashing it with all my anger and passion. I knocked over the cheap keyboard and broke it into several pieces with the body of my black and white guitar.
The crowd cheered with the delight of the clique "rockstar rage."
They didn't realize this was completely real. My plagued anguish was something not even the most brilliantly talented actor could portray. I poured all my boiling rage and fury into destroying the beautiful instrument, hitting it against the ground, and slashing it into silly plants Jen had used to decorate, sending them sprawling. My heart longed to trash this, even though the guitar had been there for me in the worst of times. The betrayal was too much anguish. I smashed it a few more times, sending splinters flying in the air, screaming "I HATE YOU, YOU MONSTER!" I flung the guitar over her head, nearly decapitating her. I picked up what was left of the instrument, bowed to the crowd, then dashed off the stage, tears streaming down my face. They picked up easily after I left, having replacement songs in mind in case I resisted Jen and her wishes. Jen started singing some Selena Gomez song and my heart thrashed widly and angerly just by the sound of it. It was clear I would not be part of this "Tropical Bay."
I had only been a puppet, the band members were puppets, with Jen pulling the strings.
They only wanted me because they believed I was good, because I was essential to the band. Other then that, they now despised me, all because of Jen.
I fell into a heap in the middle of the hall, bawling, as if that could help the anguish. Reality was, nothing could help me feel better.
I thought of all the old times, how this innocent little girl with braces from elementary school could transfer into such an evil thing. I remembered all the good times we had; sleepovers, watching shows from the older days till 4 AM, playing tag, talking and laughing. We had been like sisters. Once.
It hurt so much, it pained me to the core. The betrayal. The band that had once been my family, using me as pawn. Deceiving me. If they had ever loved me the way I loved them, something had happened to it. Not only did the emotion dissipate, but it transformed into cruel hatred.
The memories flooded in, of the good times we had, the experiences that never seemed to be a lie. They were nothing but daggers in my heart of the reminder.
I heard footsteps down the hall. I wasn't remotely curious who it was. I didn't want anyone to see me, not here, not now, not in the depths of facing my deception. Here with my leather jacket, dark pants, and black boots with stylish chains twirling to the top, everything spotted with the tears. My heart throbbed with the betrayal. I wanted to crawl into a hole and be alone.
The footsteps slowed and the stranger approached me. I tried to stiffen the sobs, but that only made them seem more frantic. I could not contain my emotions, they were all wrenching from me in the form of tears. He leaned down towards me. I could feel the stranger gazing, but I couldn't bring myself to look up.
"You'll be alright," he comforted, his beautiful British accent ringing in the air.
I glanced up into the gorgeous, sharp-featured face with messy hair accenting into his eyes. Those enchanting, electrifying blue eyes.
The pair of incredible, stunning eyes were full of concern and currently rested upon my dull, tearing brown ones, and those eyes that begun to bring me hope belonged to the one and only Matthew Bellamy.
