Under the LA skies

2. Joe Hunter

We arrived at the famous Sunset Strip ten minutes later, considering that there were no traffic jams at ten in the evening. The dressing up and new more modest make-up took me a little time, so Lucy didn't have to wait long for me.

Rainbow was famous for its concerts, which were still organized by youth groups of beautiful long-haired guys or girls, and to relax, Rose and I went there.

Once inside, I relaxed into the smoky air of the club. Anticipating a good evening, Rose immediately got away from me somewhere, and I went to the bar and sat down on a chair, ordering myself a cold cheap beer.

The place I chose was good, even the best one: a small scene from it was viewed very well. An unknown band was performing, and since I loved rock music, I could not remain indifferent, looking at the four young guys on stage.

A light-haired guitarist in a black bandana with crossbones, shining with blue, almost heavenly eyes, swung his head in time to the song, and in the light of the spotlights, his pile took on neon shades. His whole neck was hung with chains and pendants, which jingled melodiously with every movement.

The drummer was a guy with casually trimmed brown, thick, slightly curly short hair and a small mustache and goatee, and he wielded with chopsticks in a way I had never seen before.

My attention was drawn to the black-haired vocalist in a leather red jacket, somewhat reminiscent of Slash from the already popular Guns' n Roses, singing in a languid, heavy, even stringy voice.

Outwardly, he still looked like a girl in facial features: plump lips, expressive large brown eyes, thickly drawn in black pencil, languid, almost bottomless gaze wandering around the stage so skillfully that every girl thought she was looking at more than one brunette, and, of course, cutesy smiles, peculiar only to female representatives.
"Isn't he gay?" I thought.

The light-blond top of the two-meter bassist dressed in all leather stuck out very close to me, and I could even see the numerous stripes on a black leather vest, casually tied to cords in the chest area.

"Kitty, are you here?" Lucy, already drunk as an insole, walked towards the toilets with some guy with a lush light hair, who proprietarily placed his hand with rings on the waist of my colleague, who gave out less clearly: "We will come soon! Do not be bored!"

With a short nod, I continued to observe the guys. By the way, they played another song and left the stage to loud applause. Someone else was announced, but I didn't listen, still thinking about the black-haired guy at the microphone.

I was drinking my beer for a long time, so now I just looked aimlessly at the empty glass in my hand, thinking about mine and tapping my foot in time to the unfamiliar song.

"Listen, you almost broke your throat today! Really decided to do this to make everyone deaf here?" the voices were heard behind my back, and I, immediately turning around, saw the very guys who ten minutes ago started the audience in the hall.

I immediately turned away and handed the glass to the bartender with a request to pour me more. I was not worried about money - Lucy would pay for everything, and therefore with a calm soul continued to sip a drink from a glass, barely touching it with her lips.

Delicate peach lipstick, which, by the way, was the only decent lipstick on my long list, has already smeared a little, so I was in no hurry to drink, making it microscopically in small sips.

"Hey, beauty, how long have you been sitting here?" a hand fell on my shoulder, forcing me to turn again to the one who interrupted my rest.

The black-haired vocalist was sitting very close to me and drank whiskey in big gulps, and his friends sat down at a table a little further from us and were already chatting with the girls who came up, among whom I, not at all surprised, saw Lucy, who apparently already finished pleasing that blond and moved to them. Well, nothing unusual, I thought, and again turned my gaze on the curly-haired brunette.