Rage

Chapter One

"Get it together, Kennedy! How long are you going to continue to chase this crazy idea? I mean, seriously, what are the chances that you'll actually make this into a career? It's time to get real. What you need to do is go back to school, get a REAL job, and grow up."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but my dad telling me to give up on everything I've been working so hard for for as long as I could remember was definitely not it.

"Dad, I have to go. I have a gig downtown tonight and I promised the guys I'd buy dinner this time..." I sighed.

"Ken, I love you, but this is a waste of your time. You're so smart, you could really be doing something with your life if you'd just stop all this nonsense."

"Love you too, dad. Like I said, I gotta go. Talk to you later." I rushed getting off the phone, doing my best to be polite.

When you're a kid, they like to tell you you can do anything if you put your mind to it, follow your dreams, never give up... It's all bullshit. In the end, all anyone really wants us to do is go to college and get a nine to five. Dreams? Who honestly is living their dream life?

Here I am, 23 years old, trying with everything I have to see this dream to fruition, and I'm struggling like hell.

Sure, living horrible paycheck to paycheck, working at mindless, minimum wage jobs, and making barely enough to pay rent sucked. But I know it'll all pay off in the end. We just need a break.

Singing has been my passion for as long as I could remember. And ever since I was in the ninth grade, my best friends and I have been making music, trying our hardest to get noticed. In a city like Cleveland, there are tons of venues for local bands and performers to showcase what they've got. I remember the first time we played Peabody's, we were so sure we were on our way. A couple of hopeful kids...

Music has been a centerfold in my family for generations. So for my father to even suggest quitting was absolutely mind boggling. Brushing it off, like so many other times, I decided now was as good a time as any to start getting ready for my night.

Every Saturday, my only day off from both the restaurant and the gas station, we have a show. Ever since they tore down Peabody's, our weekends have been spent playing at the Agora or the Beachland. Intimate settings were my favorite. We once played at the Wolstein in a battle of the bands in high school, and I almost had a panic attack. Arenas were definitely not within my comfort zone. Not yet anyway.

Tonight was different. We were opening for a local celebrity at the House of Blues. Apparently he's a hometown boy who made it big. I haven't had a chance to look it up or ask the guys who we would be sharing the stage with. Whoever it is, maybe opening for him will get us some attention for once...

After a quick shower, I brushed out my long brown hair, which ombred into a bright purple down to my butt, and walked to my closet. I chose something along the lines of my usual attire: socks, bikini undies, black bra, black skinny jeans, a white racer back tank, and an oversized, grey plaid button up.

I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail, letting it flop to the side, and rolled my sleeves up to my elbows. I decided not to go over the top with my makeup tonight, so I only applied a thin line of black eyeliner and some lip gloss.

Checking myself out in the door-length mirror, I nodded once in approval and made my way to the front door. I knelt down to slip on my grey Nike Airs, grabbing my keys off the hook above the light switch. Stuffing my phone into my pocket, I jogged to my rusty, red Chevy Sonoma, and headed to the venue.

My boys were waiting inside the restaurant. I don't know why we're eating in here, it's way too expensive. But the guys said that our main act wanted to have dinner to get to know us.

The hostess smiled, and waved me in the direction of a booth. The guys must've told her to keep an eye out for me. I'm sure it's not everyday a purple headed freak walks in to eat. I followed her to the noisy table and made my presence known.

"Damn, could you people be any louder? I could hear you fuckers from the front door," I smirked.

"'You people'? What the hell is THAT supposed mean?" said Jay, our bassist, in a mocking tone. "Better cool it with that racist shit, little girl."

Jay, the only black guy in an all white band, and he thinks it's funny to pull the race card. He says he likes making the other people around us uncomfortable. Sometimes it's funny, other times, not so much.

"Oh, shut up, don't do that crap, you know I love you," I said as I slid into the booth next to Matt, our guitarist.

Matt smiled and shook his head in amusement.

"Well, nice of you to grace us with your presence, Ken." Andrew, the band's drummer, was always pointing out how horrible my punctuality was.

"Hey, I worked a double at Melt AND the night shift at BP. You're ass wouldn't even be awake right now," I explained and stuck out my tongue. "So where is our headliner? The shows in two hours. I'd like my food to settle and have a few drinks before we go crazy on that stage."

"This dude is crazier than all of us combined," Jay added. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of him."

I just shrugged, "Y'all never told me who it was, and I've been working too much to care, honestly. So, I don't know."

Matt gave me a knowing smirk, nudging me in the side. His silence making me wonder.

"Well, who is it?" I asked.

"Look for yourself," Matt said as he nodded toward the front door of the restaurant.

I looked over and my heart leapt into my throat. I couldn't believe it. How on Earth was I supposed to eat, let alone do a good performance, when I knew this was the person I'd be spending the majority of my night with? My cheeks got red thinking of the CD that was currently in my truck.

This was the man who, when I was in high school, was making a name for himself in the city. I had seen him live countless times. He was truly an inspiration to us struggling musicians in Cleveland. Hell, I owned a shirt with his face on it...

Lost in my thoughts, I came out of it as he approached the table.

"Oh, my God. Don't have a fan girl moment," I told myself.

"What's up guys, you ready to heat the stage up for me tonight?"

There he was. Machine Gun Kelly.