Innocent | Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 2

I remember agonizing over, of all things, the outfit I was going to wear to the venue. Was this a cocktail dress, dressed up event? Was this a normal Tuesday night? Part of me wanted to dress up a bit, anyway. That part of me won, but driving up to The Hideout, I suddenly realized this was far more casual than I'd hoped. Signs for the "Corroded Coffins" were slapped on every parallel surface outside the dive, crushing any anxiety of whether I had the right place or not. There didn't seem to be any type of crowd and I could hear the garbled shredding of some guitar from the parking lot. Hopefully I wasn't too late.

Cigarette smoke flooded my vision and airway when I pushed the front door open, and I fought the urge to cover my ears due to the volume of the set. Somehow I think that may be seen as rude. It was a little difficult to see the stage because of how dark and smoky everything was, but from what I could tell, Jeff and Brian were on guitar, Grant was the singer, Gareth was on drums, and Eddie was currently going hard on a solo for a song I was not familiar with. I was finding it hard to look away as I shuffled to an empty seat at the bar. He had already broken a sweat, leading me to believe I was moderately late, and he was donning a typical Eddie outfit- studs, chains, bandannas, band patches. His hair had curled up significantly in response to the humidity in the air, and if I squinted I thought I could catch a glimpse of black nail-polish on his quickly strumming fingers.

I was so out of my element.

I nearly shot out of my seat when a glass was slammed onto the bar beside me.

"What can I get you?" The bartender hollered, seemingly repeating himself judging by the agitation in his tone.

"Sorry! It's just really loud in here!" I shouted sympathetically.

"Tell me about it!" He grouched back, shooting the band a quick glare.

"Just water! And a Shirley Temple!" I finally decided.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling something I couldn't hear.

I bobbed my head to the show, enjoying it more than I cared to admit. Eddie's solo sections were definitely the highlights by far- whether he was naturally gifted or practiced more than the others, it definitely showed. I also enjoyed watching his fingers work so quickly and with so much skill, which I would never say out loud.

When their set finally ended, my chest tightened in anticipation. Once again, I found myself nervous beyond compare to speak with Eddie Munson, when I was honestly pretty calm in day-to-day life. I'd say I'm pretty confident, so this was a new and unwelcome feeling. Eddie took the mic over from Grant, eyes raking over the building as if searching for something.

"We have been the Corroded Coffin, here every Tuesday night for your metal needs." His voice rose on the word metal, almost squealing. I scrunched up my nose, fighting a chuckle.

His eyes landed on me and they stopped searching, a grin spreading across his face. "Thank you and good night!"

He hopped off stage animatedly, slapping a few patrons on the back. "Charlie, Bill, Henry, good to see you as usual,"

The drunken elders gave small notice to the greeting, one of them requesting, "You should play Free Bird, Eddie."

"I won't. Play. FREE BIRD." Eddie suddenly hissed, eyes wild as he scrambled away. "Every night! Every night we play they want us to play Free Bird."

"Maybe you should play them Free Bird." I suggest, giggling.

"You, madame, are on thin ice as it is, do not test my patience." He warned playfully, wiggling a finger in my face.

He hopped up onto a bar-stool beside me, accidentally brushing my arm in the process and giving me goosebumps. My anxiety started to shift away as I realized there was no malice between us. In fact, he seemed glad I was here. Though, with this crowd, I would bet he would be happy for any type of clout.