Front Row

by Rebekah N Bryan

  "Awesome, that's what I like to hear." He made deliberate eye contact with Alex, and the corners of his mouth turned up. "What are your names?"

  We introduced ourselves, and he did the same. "Nice to meet you two lovely ladies. I'm Jesse." He pointed to his other bandmates nearby. "That's Taj, who plays guitar, and that's Will the bassist. I think Malcolm, our drummer, ran to the shitter." I acknowledged Will with a nod and let my eyes linger on Taj a moment longer.

  "Are you going to anymore shows on the tour? It would be nice to have some more Face Rake fans around. The crowd wasn't really into us tonight."

  "They will be," I said. "Nobody paid any attention to Bjorn at the beginning of the tour either, but now he has lots of fans. Us included."

  "Yeah but this is unfortunately our last show," said Alex, answering his first question. "You know, unless we can be convinced otherwise."

  "Oh yeah? Well, we have small solo shows the next couple nights, and then The Out of Towners' next show with us is Thursday in Florida." Jesse drew a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and popped one in his mouth. Then he held the box out to us.

  Alex lifted one of the cigarettes from the box with two fingers. "I could do Florida."

  My head snapped in her direction. "You could?"

  "I could; I've been wanting to do a Disney trip anyway, but I heard that show was sold out."

  Jesse lit both his and Alex's cigarettes. "If you can get there, we'll get you in."

  Taj was deep in conversation with the Towners' tour manager, but the tour manager recognized me from Milwaukee and waved. I lifted my hand to return the gesture, and my eyes gravitated to Taj once again. I was desperate to somehow get to Florida, but I didn't see a way that I could. "That one's all you, girl."

  "I'll have to see if my friend Shelly can go," Alex told Jesse.

  "Do that. For sure."

  While Alex and Jesse shared a moment, the Towners' tour manager came over to say hi. "Hey, I remember you girls. You up for more drinking tonight? We're all going to my cousin's house party after this. I was just telling Taj about it."

  Taj and William joined the group, and William draped his arm around Alex's shoulders. "Yeah, we have a show in Ohio tomorrow, otherwise we'd be there. We're always up for a good party." Malcolm ambled back around this time, and we introduced ourselves to him.

  Jesse tilted his head toward Malcolm's. "I told them you were taking a shit."

  Malcolm slammed his shoulder into Jesse's, causing him to drop his cigarette on the floor. "I was not, you dickhead. Just calling the wife."

  Jesse shrugged and stomped out the discarded cigarette butt. "Same thing."

  The tour manager fished a slip of paper out of his pocket and took one of the permanent markers sitting on the table. He handed the note to Alex. "Here's the address if you decide to show up. It'll be wild. BYOB—bring your own boobs." He admired ours. If we didn't already kind of know the guy, I would've been offended by his antics, but I was unfazed. The only thing I was thinking about was somehow getting back in time for class in the morning. I crunched the numbers in my head, trying to figure out how long we could stay at this party and still make the 5-hour drive back. I mean, there was no way we'd say no to something like this. It had the potential to be like the bar in Milwaukee, but even better.

  The Out of Towners took the stage, and we waved goodbye to our new band friends to locate a good spot to watch from. As we left the merch area, I sensed Taj's eyes on me, but my mind was still in dreamland about this party.

  The show was good as usual and much less stressful from the back row as opposed to the front row. Plenty of space, no pushing whatsoever. It was a nice change of pace. Afterward, we went straight to the car to touch up our makeup instead of spending our time outside by the bus.

  "Are you really going to go to Florida?"

  Alex's paused and moved the pad that came with the makeup compact away from her face, leaving an un-blended streak of tan. "Totally. I can't believe you're not. Face Rake said they'd get us in for free!"

  "Well, yeah, but it's not free to get there. Plus, I'm scheduled to work, and I should probably stop skipping classes one of these days. I think I have a midterm coming up, too."

  She went back to applying her foundation. "Oh blah, whatever. You can always go to school and work. How often can you say you were VIP at a concert in Florida?"

  She had a point, but as much as I would've liked to hang out with Face Rake more and see yet another Out of Towners show, I'd have to just catch them on their next tour. I felt like I had no choice but to pass on this one. "What time do you want to head over?" The bus had pulled away from the venue at that point.

  "In a little bit. I have to smoke at least two of these first to calm down." She puffed on her cigarette and offered me the box. "Want one?"

  "Yeah, sure." I took the box and pulled one out, turning the thin white stick over a couple times. "How does this work again?" I was still set on my plan of trying to take up the habit to get their attention that night. How easy would it be to bum a smoke or ask for a light? Then I'd quit tomorrow and never touch the stuff again. Alex demonstrated how to light it, and I puffed away, trying to look like a natural. I felt the warm smoke billow around in my mouth as I inhaled and blew it back out.

  "You look like you're holding a doobie. Hold it more like this." She held up her hand and showed me how the cigarette was balanced between her index and middle fingers. I did the same and felt cooler already.

  We stopped at a gas station first to fill up our tank and get directions to our destination, then drove on. Alex tapped her hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the Face Rake song that we had just put on, and my nerves were manifesting with one sweaty hand clutching my knee while the other elbow leaned on the door handle with my two fingers still clamped on the cigarette. I shook it when I noticed that a centimeter of ash had formed on the end, and the ash floated down onto my jeans as I fretted about the rest of the night. This was at someone's residence and a lot more nerve wracking than just walking into a public bar.

  We followed the directions for about 10 minutes down the road and parked. The houses on either side of the one-way street were all two stories with different color aluminum siding. Most had paths leading from the sidewalk to porches where either mismatched lawn furniture or vintage style bikes leaned up against the house. Parties raged at a couple of the houses we passed, where loud club music drifted out of the windows, frat boys yelled obscenities, and beer bottles clanked against each other. I squinted at the house numbers on small plaques near the doors.

  "Did we pass it?"

  "Um…" Alex inspected the tattered gas pump receipt the tour manager had handed her with the house party address on it. "It should be the next house."

  No drunken frat boys poured out of the mossy, green house we approached, but we could distinctly hear the telltale music. I led up the creaky steps to the porch, but then stepped back.

  "What?"

  "You go first."

  We debated for a few seconds until Alex sighed and twisted the doorknob.

  Upon walking in, I could tell that this was a more mellow party than any of the ones we walked past. I identified one reason for that right away as I saw two people passing a small, rolled-up cigarette to one another on the couch. I wanted to run right back out the door until Jacob weaved around a few party goers toward us. He had changed from his concert attire into another T-shirt and jeans.

  "We were invited." I put both my hands up as if to declare my innocence. He already knew we were crazy stalkers, but I didn't want him to think we stalked him all the way to a house party.

  "Suuuure. Drinks are in the kitchen."

  We navigated our way through the crowded living room into the adjoining kitchen. On the counter sat bottles and bottles of liquor, a few two-liter bottles of soda, and a stack of red solo cups. I picked one of the cups from the top of the stack. Since I was the one driving home, and since I didn't see my signature Blue UV or lemon
ade, I was about to opt for just Coke when our tour manager friend showed up.

  "Hey girls! Thanks for coming. My cousin's around here somewhere; I'll introduce you if I see him. What are you having to drink?"

  "No idea," said Alex.

  "Just Coke for me. DD and all," I said.

  "You can do one drink. Here, I'll make you a couple rum and Cokes. Everyone likes those." I took a sip from the cup he handed me. It was a little sweet from the Coke but still very acidic from the rum. Either this drink was an acquired taste or there was just way too much rum in it, but it would get the job done. I needed to be buzzed enough to loosen up but sober enough to drive home in a few hours.

  Alex and I hovered around the drink counter, waving a little at the few people we knew. Someone approached the counter in an attempt to refill his cup, and I had to sidestep to get out of his way, which only made me bump into someone else getting a beer from the refrigerator.

  "This is not the ideal location. I feel like I'm in the way."

  The trio of people that had been sitting on the couch got up, and we darted back through the crowd to claim the spot. Once seated, I felt a little more OK with the situation, but still very out of place. If nothing else, I would just sit on the couch all night and people watch while nursing my rum and Coke. Alex took out her phone and texted while I surveyed the room. Besides some of the crew and that brief glimpse of Jacob, I hadn't seen anyone else I knew yet. I noticed the bathroom door to my left open, and Jacob emerged.

  "Hey, you guys can come upstairs if you want. Randy, Gabe, and everyone's all hanging out up there."

  We popped up off the couch and I tried to contain my excitement as I followed Jacob through the kitchen, past a small entryway that led to the back door, and up the staircase. The beige carpet on the stairs was dingy, and it looked like someone might've already gotten sick on them tonight. Jacob confirmed my suspicions.

  "Oh yeah, watch the puke. I saw that in progress. I think they were going to find something to clean it up with."

  I dodged the pile of vomit and ascended the rest of the creaky stairs with Alex close behind me. On the other side of the wall at the top of the stairs was a small group of people—one other girl I didn't recognize, two guys, and also Gabe and Randy. Gabe was situated on the ground in front of a loveseat with his guitar on his lap and a bottle of beer sitting on the floor next to him. Randy was sprawled out on a large bean bag chair. Jacob took a seat at the end of the couch next to one of the other guys and the girl, and Alex sat in a chair next to Jacob. I sashayed over to the loveseat where the other guy was perched on the opposite arm of the seat from where Gabe sat on the floor. I tiptoed around Gabe's beer and lowered myself into the middle of the loveseat, greeting Gabe as I did. He gave me a nod as if he felt like he should know me from somewhere but couldn't exactly place me.

  Jacob, acting as the good host who led us up there, asked, "Sorry, what are your names again? I know we've met, but I can't remember off the top of my head."

  "Yeah, you guys must meet a lot of people in a day. I'm

  Alexandra." She extended her hand out to Jacob to shake. He grinned at her and shook her hand.

  "Nice to meet you."

  I waved. "Rachel."

  "Hey, aren't you guys from Milwaukee?" asked Randy.

  "Impressive! Yes," I said.

  "Cool, I like Milwaukee. It's a pretty nice little city. We always have fun when we're there. The crowd is really excited in Milwaukee. It's great to go to a city and know we're going to have such an enthusiastic audience."

  "That show was good, but my favorite show of your tour was in Chicago." The rum must've kicked in because I was already talking more than usual.

  "Oh yeah, we love Chicago. There's no place like it," said Randy.

  I patted Gabe's shoulder below me. "I have to say thank you, Gabe, for the pick in Chicago."

  He raised his head, and it seemed to click where he knew me from. "You're very welcome." His eyes then lingered on Alex longer than I would've preferred. "I need another beer. I'll be back. Anyone need anything?" he asked. My drink was not even halfway gone, but I wished it was an empty glass.

  Alex got up, too. "I could use another." She beelined for me before she followed Gabe downstairs. "I'll put in a good word for you," she whispered although I was sure half the room could hear. The rum was definitely affecting her.

  The guy who was perched on the loveseat grabbed the guitar Gabe was strumming on and sat on the floor in front of Randy, who was still lounging on the bean bag chair, but had since lit up a cigar. "You wanna go over that song we started?" the guy asked Randy.

  "Yeah, totally, man." The guy picked at the guitar while Randy sang along and the couple on the couch listened in. Meanwhile, Jacob came over by me and took the guy's spot on the arm of the chair, but he swung his feet onto the seat so that he was still elevated but facing me.

  "I don't need to work anymore tonight. I'll just let Randy do his thing. My brain is fried."

  I rotated on the loveseat, crossing one of my legs under me and leaving the other foot planted on the floor. "Yeah, I can imagine. Have you been working on a lot of new material on top of touring?"

  "You wouldn't think so, but we have. It actually gets confusing. Sometimes, I'm like, wait—am I supposed to be playing this song right now, or this song? I'm composing a new song in my head while trying to remember the rhythm of a song we wrote three years ago. It can definitely get weird."

  "I've always wanted to ask a musician this question. Do you ever get sick of playing the same songs over and over again every night?"

  "Yes," he said without hesitation, but then looked sheepish and averted eye contact for a second, like he had answered too quickly. "I mean, it can get old sometimes."

  I giggled at his backpedaling and wiped the condensation on my glass with my thumb. My melted, watered down beverage no longer interested me, so I set the glass on the floor and wiped my fingers off on my jeans. "I don't know how you guys do it. I mean, following the tour is hard, but performing an entire tour without getting burnt out? That's gotta be damn near impossible."

  He smiled his million-watt smile. "It's not easy, but we love doing it, so that helps. It's not like I have to get up every morning, or afternoon in our case, and file someone's taxes. It's probably the most fun job I could think of having. But yeah, it's a lot of work. It's not all booze, girls, and rock 'n' roll. Well, it's a lot of that," He held up his beer and swayed the bottom of it in a way to make it point at me. I knew he didn't mean it in the groupie sense in this case, but I still blushed. "So what's your story?"

  "My story, huh? It's not going to be as interesting as yours."

  "Oh well, lay it on me anyway. We can't talk about me all night."

  "You sure about that? I think I could."

  Jacob smirked and rolled his eyes.

  "OK fine." I propped my elbow on the back of the couch and twirled a lock of hair. Well, I work as a bank teller part time."

  "Wow, what's that like?"

  Was this world-famous musician really asking me about my 20-hour-a-week, slightly above minimum wage bank job? "It's not bad. It's a pretty good job for a college student. I think it'll give me some good experience, and I like the people I work with for the most part. So it works for now." I pulled at the fraying thread on the hem of my jeans. His attentive eyes urged me to continue.

  "I just started my junior year of college. I'm a business major, but I think I'm going to add a French minor and hope I can do something interesting with that. I don't like any of my business classes right now, not that I'm there enough to know." I debated blaming it on the tour, but I left that part implied.

  "French, huh? What about Spanish?"

  "I don't know. I never took Spanish."

  He nodded in Randy's direction. "Randy could teach you."

  The strumming sounds from the guitar trailed off. "Teach her what?"

  "Spanish," said Jacob.

  He drummed his fingers on the guitar and
cast his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "Sure. Say, Creo que Randy es guapo."

  I repeated it.

  "¡Muy bien!"

  The girl I didn't know covered her mouth and chuckled.

  "What did I say?"

  Randy winked. "You'll have to look it up."

  I blushed until Jacob diverted my attention again. "Can I ask you something I've always wanted to ask a fan but never have?"

  I welcomed the change in subject. "Of course you can."

  "Why do you like us? I mean, what's the appeal? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you do. It's nice to have fans like you who seem to be normal...somewhat." He raised one of his eyebrows, and I picked up on the subtle dig.

  "I had a similar conversation with Gabe the other day in Milwaukee except that time I was trying to convince him that he wasn't a failure. You guys give us something that we can relate to. Even though we don't know you personally, you make us feel accepted and part of something when some of us are lacking that in our own lives. Plus, you just seem like really great guys. Whether that's true or not, who knows, but that's what we see," I finished, lobbing a subtle jab back at him.

  "You and Alexandra don't seem like the type that don't fit in."

  "You'd be surprised. I can't speak for Alex, but I'm super lame."

  "Well, I don't see it. You don't seem lame to me."

  I tried to play it cool, but I couldn't prevent the goofy grin even after biting down on my pursed lips. "Thanks."

  We sat a moment without talking and both watched Randy and the other guy perform until Alex came around the corner from the stairwell. She hurried over to me. "We need to talk," she said in the same loud whisper as when she left. She beckoned me to follow her, and we stood in the stairwell, out of earshot from the rest of the group.

  "OK, don't kill me. You can say no to this, but I hope you don't. Gabe wants to take me into a bedroom...and do things!" She paused for effect, and her eyebrows shot up, awaiting my response. Then she got serious again. "But I couldn't do anything without running it by you first. I know he's your favorite."

  My heart plummeted to my feet. A hundred different emotions ran through me at once, but I couldn't think of any real reason that she shouldn't enjoy this night. If I couldn't get some action from a Towner, I wanted someone to. At least I could live vicariously, right? And maybe find out how big his junk was. With my chest in knots, I gave her my blessing.