"I'm sick of watching bands," Audrey said as she watched the last act unloading gear from the stage.
"What?" slurred the girl standing next to her, wobbling a little as she tried to catch the eye of the drummer.
"Lizzie, I'm sick of watching bands."
"No you're not. You just need another beer. Here, have some of mine." She tipped the glass toward her friend.
Audrey took a sip of beer but knew it wouldn't make any difference. Her head was already woozy from beer. It made the sensation of her life slipping away more intense. She wanted change, not PBR.
"I'm sick of my life. I want to do something else."
"Cool. Let's go to the after party. Can you drive?"
"That's not what I meant. Are you even listening to me?"
"You're sick of your life and you want to do something else. I'm trying to accommodate you. How about we do the drummer and the guitarist? That would be something else." She grinned and pushed the beer back in Audrey's direction, sloshing it over the top of the glass.
Audrey took another drink, bigger this time. "There's got to be more than watching shitty bands and drinking shittier beer."
"Core of the Earth is our favorite band! Who the fuck stole the sunshine out of your sky today? You love this band."
"Well, maybe I'm over this band."
"You're just pissed because Jason's got a girlfriend and there will be no bassist booty for you. It doesn't mean the whole band sucks."
"Yeah, but it does. I'm sick of spending my time watching crap bands, trying to hook up with some dumbass who hits the same note fifty-nine times in a row and thinks he's a bass god."
"Woah, bitter are we?"
"Fuck you. What do I need with a guy like that? I could play bass better than him right out of the garage. What makes him so freaking great?"
"It's the dimples, so just get over it. And give me back my beer. It's making you an angry drunk."
Audrey scowled and handed the beer back to Lizzie.
"And stop scowling. We'll find you a better bassist to moon over, I promise."
"I'm tired of mooning over bassists," Audrey sighed.
"Then we'll find a hot little guitarist. Come on, let's see if we can catch a ride with the band."
Audrey woke up to bright sunlight on her face, her hair wet against her forehead. She groaned and rolled over, but there was no escape from the heat. "I hate summer," she muttered to the annoyingly cheerful birds outside her window. A cold wet nose nuzzled her chin. She jumped and pushed it away before softening and saying, "Oh, hello Grizelda. I guess I'm late with breakfast again." A plaintive meow gave her answer.
She sat up, petting the cat absently. Her head hurt, but not as much as it normally would after a Friday night with Lizzie. She'd been too out of sorts last night to go to the after party, and for once, Lizzie let it go. She was glad to have a semi-clear mind to decide whether she was going to back out of their Saturday plans or slip into the usual modus operandi and make it tenable. It didn't feel tenable. The thought of going back to Maddy's to stand around flirting through another weekend felt like putting on yesterday's underwear. It was wrong and slightly uncomfortable, but almost familiar enough to ignore.
She let this thought move her out of bed and into the kitchen. Grizelda pawed at the cupboard and mewed. "You have to move or I can't get to your food!" she teased. The cat turned excitedly in circles as she pulled out the bag and filled the dish. "There you go, silly."
She stepped out of the kitchen and stood looking toward the corner of the living room, where a beat up bass guitar was leaning against the wall. She wasn't sure what led her to the music store last week, but she knew that once she had the bass in her hands, there was no changing her mind about it. It was heavy, but in a solid way that made it satisfying to hold. The glossy finish, although dinged from previous use, felt sensual and sleek. Now that it was here in her apartment, it seemed an exotic thing, something to be admired but never used. Every time she looked at it she felt eager trepidation, before remembering that Lizzie was waiting for her to call or she needed to run to the store. She realized she was scared. What if she couldn't make a decent sound with it? What if Jason really was a bass god and she was doomed to remain a peasant in the music world, never the queen she secretly wanted to be?
She sat down on the couch and took the bass in her hands. It felt good sitting across her lap. She held down a fret and plucked a string like she'd watched Jason do a hundred times. It made a heavy buzzy sound that vibrated through her chest. She plucked the string again, then twice more, enjoying the feelings that rushed through her. This wasn't so hard. She tried other strings, other frets, eventually getting lost in the joy of making sounds with her fingers. She forgot all about Saturday night with Lizzie.
"Where the hell are you?" Lizzie's angry voice demanded from the phone.
"I'm at home. You know that, you called my landline."
"You were supposed to be here an hour ago! God, I thought you'd gone and killed yourself after that dramatic exit last night!"
"No, I'm fine. I just got caught up in something. Listen, Lizzie, I've got the best idea!"
"And you're going to put on your hooker boots and hustle over here to tell me about it, aren't you?"
"Well, I was…"
"Great! I was almost worried about you. Bring me some smokes, will you?"
The phone clicked silent. Audrey sighed but couldn't help the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips. That was Lizzie. It was impossible to say no to her.
Maddy's Lounge was an old dive bar that served the regular neighborhood drunks by day and the rock scene by night. It was small and dark and had a stage not much bigger than a double bed. It was packed to capacity every Saturday night.
Lizzie had claimed two of the coveted stools at the bar, a trick that never ceased to surprise Audrey.
"Took you long enough. Did you bring my smokes?"
Audrey pulled them out. Lizzie smacked the pack on the bar, then took one out and lit it.
"You missed the Head Stops. It's a damn shame too, because their singer is a fine…"
"Lizzie, I want to start a band."
Lizzie stared at her blankly for a moment. "What?"
"I want to start a band. I got a bass guitar, and I think I can learn how to play it. You could learn to play something too. And then we'd just have to find, you know, another chick or two, and we'd have a band."
Lizzie took a long drag off her cigarette. "Are you serious?"
"Do I look serious?"
"You have this weird glint in your eye and you're waving your smoke around like a madwoman. You're either serious or you’re insane. I'm putting my money on both."
"I'm not insane. I'm tired of sitting on bar stools trying to be noticed. If attention is what we want, we should be on the stage."
"I have no musical ability whatsoever, Audrey."
"You could learn. If these stupid boys can do it, we can do it better."
Lizzie took one last drag off her cigarette and crushed it out.
"I want to be the singer."
"Ok."
"Good. When do we start?"
"What do you think?" Lizzie asked as she turned in a circle in Audrey's living room. She modeled the Lolita wig and pink sunglasses she'd picked up at the thrift store.
"It's you."
"If I'm going to be the singer, I'll need stage clothes. It may take a while to amass the proper attire. But I'm off to a good start."
"Check this out. I learned the bass line for "Untouched." Audrey sat down on the couch with the guitar and plucked out the notes. The tiny amplifier on the coffee table rumbled with distortion. "Do you know the words?"
"I know the words to every single Manic song."
"Wanna sing with me?"
"Not without the guitar, silly. I can't sing with the bass. We need to find a guitarist. And I have someone in mind. Mikey McCreadle just left the Tumbles. I hear he's…"
"No." Audrey sat the guitar down. "I want to play with girls."
"We don't know any girls. All our friends are guys."
"I know. And look where it's got us.
"It's got us some magnificent fuck buddies." Lizzie grinned lasciviously
Audrey rolled her eyes, but couldn't help grinning back. "Ok. You're right. But I don't want some guy from the Tumbles thinking he's cooler than us and telling us how to play. I want to do our own thing."
"A cute guy in the band means safety cock if we run out of options on the road. And he could fix things."
"We'll get a roadie. Come on, Lizzie, don't you want to show up all those guys that treated us like yesterday's playthings?"
"No, I want to have a legion of them coming to our shows." Lizzie winked and then sighed. "Ok, you win. But there's a reason they call it a 'lead' singer. I'm in charge."
"Ok, you're in charge. So tell me, fearless leader, where are we going to find a guitarist?"
"I have an idea…"