The loud rock music from the band pierced my eardrums. It was so loud I couldn’t even hear myself think. There were half-naked women dancing on the bar and colorful graffiti covered every square inch of the concrete walls. Every person I passed had a tattoo or a piercing and everyone seemed to be showing either too much skin or they were covered in head-to-toe black.
Like when Megan walked into our school, all eyes were on me. I instantly regretted not wearing her clothes. Had I known that wearing such boring clothing would have brought more attention to me, I’d be as half-naked as the women that surrounded me. I’d never felt more out of place in my life.
Once we got to the bar, I was able to speak to Megan.
“I don’t think I belong here,” I yelled over the music.
“You’ll be fine. You just need a drink.”
She yelled out a drink order to the guy behind the bar, then handed me a cup. I sipped it as we pushed our way back through the crowd toward the stage.
That was when I saw him. His head was down as he dug his fingers into his guitar. Perfect music flowed from him and it was as if all the other instruments in the band disappeared. I zoned in on his solo and watched as he moved his fingers up and down. He was amazing.
His loose-fitting jeans had rips and tears in them and the sleeves in his black T-shirt were rolled up. The tattoos on his elbows melted into the ones that disappeared into the sleeves of his shirt. There were letters placed on his fingers, but his hands were moving so fast I couldn’t see what they said. Once his solo was over, he looked back out at the crowd. His long, dark bangs still covered half his face. He shifted his head to the side, tossing them out of his eyes and giving me a peek of the little music note tattooed behind his ear.
He didn’t smile. He was as hard as the concrete that surrounded us, but in his eyes you could see he loved what he was doing. There was a natural look of joy in his sultry stare as he bathed the women in the front row with his inattentive gaze. He caught a break for a minute and reached over for his beer. I watched as he brought the bottle to his lips and his silver lip ring caught my full attention. He was covered in color and art; he was a standing statue for freedom, and I was drawn to his careless stature.
“Oh my God, Chet is so hot! Look at him, Pay. Isn’t he a rock god?” Megan screamed over the music.
I shook my head yes, but I wasn’t looking at Chet. Who the hell was Chet? And why would anyone want to look at him when they could feast their eyes on the tall, tatted god with the guitar?
We stood there “rocking out” for a few songs until our cups were empty. Megan was right. I was already feeling more relaxed with just the one drink down my throat.
Once we were at the bar, Megan handed me some money and told me to get more while she went and said hello to some girl I’d never seen. I spent a few minutes being knocked around while screaming to the bartender, who apparently didn’t see nor hear me. I was about to give up and walk away when an older guy stopped me.
He wasn’t much taller than me, but was thick in the shoulders, which made him feel consuming. He had a bright, friendly smile and that was welcomed in a room full of blacked out, moody rockers.
“I saw you standing there trying so hard to get a drink, so I thought I’d help you out,” he called over the music as he handed me two more of the drinks Megan and I were drinking before.
“Oh my God, thank you so much. Here, let me pay you back.” I tried to stuff the money into his hands.
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay me back? Drink. Enjoy yourself, on me.” He smiled politely before disappearing into the crowd.
Apparently, looks were deceiving. He looked like a hood rat from the wrong side of tracks, but he was such a pleasant guy.
After being tossed around some more, I made it back to Megan’s side and handed her one of the drinks.
“Yay! Thanks, Pay!” She flashed me a big smile, “See? I told you we’d have a blast.”
“Yep, you called it.” I pasted a big, fake smile on my lips and stood beside her as she socialized with ease.
I spent the next hour listening to the band play and watching the guitarist as he peered out at the crowd with his steely gaze. It disturbed me that I found him attractive. I never looked at boys; males were disgusting as far as I was concerned. So, while I watched him, I played mental tug-of-war over what it was about him that attracted me.
The conclusion was he was attractive because he was untouchable. At least to a girl like me he was. And if couldn’t touch him, then that meant he couldn’t touch me. A guy who could never touch me would be attractive.
I stood that way for a while before I realized Megan was no longer beside me. I turned quickly to see if she was behind me and the room spun. The concrete floor shifted under my feet and the music turned into a loud buzz in my ears. I was drunk… I think. I’d never been drunk before. I looked down at my empty cup and was amazed at how quickly I’d gotten myself drunk.