up.
“ Guilty as charged.”
“ All right,” I said, with a sigh. “Let's do it.” I held up the shot glass of whiskey, and clinked it against his. My head tilted back, and the brown liquid went washing down my throat. I gagged a little, nearly spitting out the harsh well alcohol. It finally made its way down to my belly, where it gave me a nice warm burn.
“ Not used to the hard stuff, are you?” he said.
“ No, I'm not,” I admitted. “That's why I'm here drinking wine.”
He extended his hand. “Clyde Strummer.”
“ Debbie Beaumont. Nice to meet you.”
“ Likewise. All right, Debbie, let's be straight. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? You look like a fish out of water.”
I shrugged.
“ I'm asking myself the same question.”
“ I see, I see. You waiting for someone? A punk rock boyfriend, perhaps?”
I shook my head.
“ Nope. It's just me. What you see is what you get.”
“ Mmm hmm.” Clyde brushed his dark hair out of his face. “Well if you're still bored in a couple hours, you should come check out my band. We're playing across the street.”
It took me a moment to process that info.
“ Wait a second,” I said. “You're playing at the Colosseum? That place must hold ten thousand people!”
He shrugged.
“ Yeah, just about. My band is called Unholy Night.”
I shook my head sheepishly.
“ Sorry,” I said. “I've never heard of you guys.”
“ That's all right.” He handed her a laminated ticket. “This will get you full access, including backstage if you want to come hang out after the show. No pressure. But I'd hate to see you sitting here by your lonesome all night. Just as a concerned citizen.” He grinned.
I stared at the ticket in my hand, wondering. It didn't seem like my kind of music, but Clyde was certainly good-looking, and kind of charming if I had to admit it to myself.
“ Could be fun,” I said, not wanting to tip my hand completely, just yet. “Maybe I'll see you there.”
“ Cool. I gotta run over there for soundcheck. Hopefully I'll catch up with you later.”
Clyde exchanged a handshake with the bartender, and then he was gone, off into the night to perform his soundcheck or whatever he had called it. I lingered for a little while longer, finishing off my wine. The whiskey hadn't done my throat or stomach any favors, but I was feeling a little buzzed, and in a good mood generally. I decided to go for a stroll, and debate going to see Unholy Night. I headed out around the block, again waiting to see where the night would take me. It was a glorious, warm summer's evening, and couples were out in full force, walking hand in hand along the streets and avenues. My path eventually led me to outside the Colosseum, where a line of people was already stretching around the block.
I could hear teenagers yelling, carousing, having fun with their friends.
“ Woo hoo! Unholy Night!”
“ I can't wait for this show!”
“ Clyde is so hot! This is going to be the best night of my life.”
I really couldn't believe how many fans they had, and the enthusiasm for the band. I had assumed Clyde was just in some local group, playing at another grungy dive bar, with maybe ten people who would show up. But this was something else. It was like an event, a spectacle. I made my way to the back of the line, still feeling out of place in my modest clothing, with my lack of piercings or tattoos, or band shirts with the Unholy Night logo emblazoned on them, which appeared to be a cross covered in flowers.
I stood there for a few minutes, before I realized that my ticket might allow me to jump the line. Shaking my head, I headed up towards the front.
“ Jeez Debbie, get it together,” I said to myself. “You get handed an all-access pass, and you still wait at the back of the line like a chump?”
I hoped nobody saw me talking to myself. The bouncer at the front of the line was letting people in, very slowly, a few at a time. He saw me
“ Guilty as charged.”
“ All right,” I said, with a sigh. “Let's do it.” I held up the shot glass of whiskey, and clinked it against his. My head tilted back, and the brown liquid went washing down my throat. I gagged a little, nearly spitting out the harsh well alcohol. It finally made its way down to my belly, where it gave me a nice warm burn.
“ Not used to the hard stuff, are you?” he said.
“ No, I'm not,” I admitted. “That's why I'm here drinking wine.”
He extended his hand. “Clyde Strummer.”
“ Debbie Beaumont. Nice to meet you.”
“ Likewise. All right, Debbie, let's be straight. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? You look like a fish out of water.”
I shrugged.
“ I'm asking myself the same question.”
“ I see, I see. You waiting for someone? A punk rock boyfriend, perhaps?”
I shook my head.
“ Nope. It's just me. What you see is what you get.”
“ Mmm hmm.” Clyde brushed his dark hair out of his face. “Well if you're still bored in a couple hours, you should come check out my band. We're playing across the street.”
It took me a moment to process that info.
“ Wait a second,” I said. “You're playing at the Colosseum? That place must hold ten thousand people!”
He shrugged.
“ Yeah, just about. My band is called Unholy Night.”
I shook my head sheepishly.
“ Sorry,” I said. “I've never heard of you guys.”
“ That's all right.” He handed her a laminated ticket. “This will get you full access, including backstage if you want to come hang out after the show. No pressure. But I'd hate to see you sitting here by your lonesome all night. Just as a concerned citizen.” He grinned.
I stared at the ticket in my hand, wondering. It didn't seem like my kind of music, but Clyde was certainly good-looking, and kind of charming if I had to admit it to myself.
“ Could be fun,” I said, not wanting to tip my hand completely, just yet. “Maybe I'll see you there.”
“ Cool. I gotta run over there for soundcheck. Hopefully I'll catch up with you later.”
Clyde exchanged a handshake with the bartender, and then he was gone, off into the night to perform his soundcheck or whatever he had called it. I lingered for a little while longer, finishing off my wine. The whiskey hadn't done my throat or stomach any favors, but I was feeling a little buzzed, and in a good mood generally. I decided to go for a stroll, and debate going to see Unholy Night. I headed out around the block, again waiting to see where the night would take me. It was a glorious, warm summer's evening, and couples were out in full force, walking hand in hand along the streets and avenues. My path eventually led me to outside the Colosseum, where a line of people was already stretching around the block.
I could hear teenagers yelling, carousing, having fun with their friends.
“ Woo hoo! Unholy Night!”
“ I can't wait for this show!”
“ Clyde is so hot! This is going to be the best night of my life.”
I really couldn't believe how many fans they had, and the enthusiasm for the band. I had assumed Clyde was just in some local group, playing at another grungy dive bar, with maybe ten people who would show up. But this was something else. It was like an event, a spectacle. I made my way to the back of the line, still feeling out of place in my modest clothing, with my lack of piercings or tattoos, or band shirts with the Unholy Night logo emblazoned on them, which appeared to be a cross covered in flowers.
I stood there for a few minutes, before I realized that my ticket might allow me to jump the line. Shaking my head, I headed up towards the front.
“ Jeez Debbie, get it together,” I said to myself. “You get handed an all-access pass, and you still wait at the back of the line like a chump?”
I hoped nobody saw me talking to myself. The bouncer at the front of the line was letting people in, very slowly, a few at a time. He saw me
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