Colors Between Us

The Invite

I swipe my metro card against the magnetic reader in a swift motion. The glass panels open and I pass through, immediately speed walking towards the entrance of the train that will take me to Union Square. When I told Izalea I wasn't busy last night, I wasn't exactly telling the truth. I had job interviews lined up from around noon until seven. That left me about fifteen minutes to pick out an outfit from my dirty laundry and apply whatever makeup I saw. Now, with only thirty minutes until the concert starts, I'm praying the train I'm on doesn't break down miraculously.

I shiver at the breeze that enters when the doors open. Even though it's a rough sixty degrees outside, I've been to a fair share of concerts to know that wearing winter apparel isn't the best idea. Instead, I have on a cropped black tee with a pair of baggy ripped jeans and fishnets underneath. It's the closest I could get to a concert outfit without my shirt having a stain from the shitty takeout place down the street from my hotel. If you think I would spend 20 dollars on a salad from a cute cafe in midtown, you've got me wrong.

A group of four teenage girls sits to the left of me. I can't hear the conversation until one mentions something very familiar. "I can't wait to see Jameson in person." The girl in the red admits.

"Same. I wonder if his ex was telling the truth about that whole... situation?" One of the girl's questions, making the rest of the group tense up.

What kind of situation are they talking about? I pull my phone out of my back pocket and open Google to search for the band name. Once the page loads, the first thing that pops up are the bandmates on the cover of a Pop Magazine. They are all matching with red tops and black jeans. It represents the vibe they aim for through their songs. I scroll down to the news section on my phone and, surprisingly, there are more headlines than I thought.

BREAKING NEWS: Lead singer and songwriter of the band "The Burnt Hopes" Jameson Grey has been exposed for performing intoxicated against management rules.

HOT AND NEW: Jameson Grey was accused recently of cheating on his ex-girlfriend, Milania Johnson while on tour with the help of band members Skylar Shin, Archer Christiano, and Izalea Winters.

TOUR UPDATES: Archer Christiano and Jameson Grey have been bailed out of prison for assault on a fan outside of a venue in New Hampshire.

Holy shit. I remember hearing that there was drama within the band, but I didn't know it was this extensive. It's even more concerning that only one person is the problem here: Jameson Grey. Considering he is the face of the group, you would think he would be wary of his reputation. But regardless of his past, well... his present, I can't let Izalea down.

The teen girls continue to chat until we stop at Union Sq. I pull my bag closer to my body and make my way to the exit of the station. Once I exit, the orange and yellow trees fill my gaze. The air brushes past my underdressed body, making me shiver once again. The area is busy with New Yorkers commuting which isn't out of the normal. The sunset reflects against the buildings, illuminating the roads slightly. I admire the city for a minute until I pull my phone out and navigate to the concert hall.

As I walk past the large buildings, I realize I'm getting closer. Though the show starts in 10 minutes, the line to get into the building continues to the end of the street. I follow the direction of the line, and with every step I take, I grow more anxious. What if Izalea forgot to put my name on the list, and I look like a dumbass trying to see her favorite artist? It looks like we will see soon enough.

I walk up to a man who holds a checklist and has "security" printed on the front of his shirt and flatten my hair to make myself look somewhat presentable.

"Um, Izalea told me to check in with security," I struggle out due to nerves. The security man looks up from the list and tilts his head slightly. Can he sense that I've never done this before?

"I need your name, not the person who invited you here." He replies, clearly annoyed.

"Oh, it's Rosalia Jones. It could also be under Lia." I confirm as I cross my arms in front of me.

The tall man runs his pen down the list until he stops and checks off a box. "Head down the hallway and make your way to the stairway that has red carpet."

I nod my head at the information given and enter the dark venue. There is music playing from the other side of the wall. I'm guessing that's where general admission stands. The hallway has framed guitars hung up on the wall. Some are signed, and some are too pretty not to include. I see the end of a velvet, red carpet and walk into the stairway. As I make my way up the stairs, the music playing grows progressively louder with every step. "Flawless" by The Neighbourhood blares from every side of me once I make it to the balcony. A gasp leaves my mouth when I realize how many people are waiting for the band. The entire floor is full of fans, and security is the only way there is even a foot of space between the stage and the floor.

I sit on one of the chairs closest to the railing to get a better view of the band. The music and lights dim, which starts a chain reaction of yells among the crowd. Red lights illuminate the drum set first, and the drummer, otherwise known as Archer, steps out. Screams of joy invite him and the others on stage. Archer hits his drumsticks on the cymbals that queues Skylar and Izalea to step out. With every person that walks from behind the curtains follows a roar of applause and shouts. Izalea has on a baby tee and a black mini skirt. Skylar and Archer wear matching varsity jackets with a tank and a pair of jeans underneath. Skylar and Izalea have guitars hanging off their shoulders, but Skylar stands in front of a keyboard while Izalea has a mic adjusted to her height.

The red lights go out, leaving the stage dark and the crowd quieter than before. That is until a spotlight falls on the center of the stage, which reveals Jameson. A plain black tee covers his upper body, but it's obvious that he is muscular from the subtle abs defined by the spotlight. The shirt is paired with matching straight-leg dickies and high-top converse. There is an appeal to his simplicity that I can't even begin to describe.

The show finally begins, and the crowd goes wild. With every song, the speakers rumble beneath me. At some point I find myself swaying to the beat of the track. It's hard to not be a fan of their music. It has a dark, almost mysterious, sound that you wouldn't hear on the radio from anyone else. When a song plays, you can't compare it to any other because it's so unique.

The final song ends, and the band says their goodbyes to the crowd. As the band leaves the stage, the crowd begins to leave or crowd around the merchandise stand with one-hundred-dollar bills in hand. I walk towards the staircase when I'm met by one of the security guards.

"Lia Jones?" He asks in an almost threatening tone.

My mouth goes dry. There is no way I have done something for security to be on my ass. The only thing I can think of was stealing a mint from the bathroom at the beginning of the setlist. They are complimentary for a reason.

"That would be me. Is there something wrong?" I respond, confused and alarmed at the same time.

"The band has requested for you to join them backstage. Come with me."