BACKSTAGE

Chapter 2

CLARA'S POV:

As I open up the scratched up wooden doors to the dinky, neon, 'Seahorse bar' I am immediately hit with the familiar smell of beer, hot air and tobacco.

I hear  my silver hoops jingle in my ears as I try to navigate my way through the mass of people that surround the small stage at the back of the bar, all enthusiastic about the band playing. I have no idea why though, they're just some shitty cover band and the guitarist seems to only know about 3 chords.
I trip over my feet as I clop my way through the crowd towards the front as I'm wearing my tallest pair of red topped clogs.
The band finally concludes their awful set before the lead singer yells, "We are The Birdies!", to which the crowd applauds. I clap out of courtesy but partially because I was happy they were finally getting off.

Directly after The Birdies, horrible name may I say, pack up their toys and go backstage, a new band struts on. As they do, my eyes instantly land on the member to the right of the stage. It's a girl, and she has a freaking piano. I have never seen that, and I see new desperate bands all the time.  She has short brown hair that slides across her shoulders as she moves her head while cracking her knuckles and doing a scale to warm up.
There's a purple light shining directly on her from above, making her cut up, dark red sweater extremely bright in the dimly lit bar. She seems to have cut the neckline herself as it's extremely frayed and all of the loose threads shine a bright white against her collarbones. The light shining above her reflects in her round glasses sending beams of light sliding across the room, temporarily blinding a couple listeners as she lifts her head up and down while her fingers glide over the keys. I've never seen anyone play metal so gracefully.

Sadly, just as I start to get to the front I am rudely shoved by some drunk guy with a glass of beer in his hand. I fall to the floor with a thud, followed by a huge splash of his beer, which instantly stains my white tank.
The idiot hasn't even gained his balance yet before I kick him in the shin. He yelps and drops his glass, which shatters on the vinyl floor. "You BITCH!" He yells, looking down at me.
I am not a bitch. I'm not the one who's stumbling into a new person every 20 seconds because they're a fat 30 year old man who still doesn't know how to shave, hasn't got a future and has to get hammered by himself every Friday night because he has nothing better to do.
Right as I'm about to clap back at his lame insult, a drumstick flies off stage and springs off the back of his head.
The music abruptly stops so I look up at the stage. "OI, GET OUT!", the drummer yells to the man. He is stood up behind his kit with a drumstick in one hand and his other clenched in a fist.
"YEAH? MAKE ME!" He replies, which I think he regrets because as soon as he speaks, the drummer dives off of the stage onto him and knocks him to the floor. The drummers long curly hair is covering his face as he straddles the man, holding his collar and raising a fist above his head.
"get the fuck out", he says before slamming his fist down across his cheek. There's a loud crack as his rings slam into his skull. The drummer shakes his hand once before stepping off of the man allowing him to scamper away out the door, literally in tears.

I'm frozen in shock trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened in front of me. A warm hand lands on my shoulder before quickly sliding off. It takes me a second too long to realise that it's the drummer apologising for what just unfolded. "Sorry darl." He says to me to which I just reply with a smile.

He scoops his drumsticks off the ground before running back and lifting himself onto the stage. He grabs the mic from the lead singers hand, wrapping his polished fingers around the bottom,"uh my apologies for the delay everyone, I promise our music is a ton better then my etiquette.." he lets out a small chuckle before continuing, "cheers.".
The band all run back to their positions and continue to play. I have to admit, they're amazing. I've seen a lot of good bands over the past couple of years, but they are just amazing. Their music is nothing like I've ever heard before, and not just because of the piano. They're incredible!
For the rest of their set, my eyes are glued to the drummer and his long hair that swings back and forth as he bangs his head to the beat. His eyes are closed when he lifts his head. The over head lights above him contour his perfectly curved features. He looks forward and catches my eye for a moment before turning back down to focus on his playing. I register something as we make eye contact. HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE HOTTIE FROM THE ELEVATOR THIS MORNING! No wonder his accent sounded so familiar! How could I not realise this?
I'm pretty sure he recognises me too because straight after he looks down he does a double take and sends me a huge cheesy smile and a wink making butterflies erupt in my stomach.

They end their last song and the lead singer, a shirtless muscular blonde guy yells into the mic, "THIS IS NANETTE!". Way better name.
The crowd erupts into cheers at their performance and all the members scurry off behind stage. They were so good!

The next band to perform was not even as half as good as Nanette, so I decide it's time for a drink, although I could probably just suck on my shirt.
I slump into a stool at the bar and signal at the bartender. "Jack?", he nods.
"Make that two." The girl next to me adds. I swivel my stool to face her and recognise her as the pianist who was just on.
"You were amazing oh my god! I've never seen anything like that!" I immediately fan girl.
"Haha thanks" she laughs, "hey what was that all about at the start?".
"Oh just some drunk who seemed to have forgotten how to stand." I laugh.
"Hey do you need a new shirt? I think I have one in my bag backstage?" She offers.
My top is see through right now, but I don't wanna be a bother, "nah it's all good".
"It's no trouble, come on." She grabs my wrist and drags me off the chair. I duck my head and try not to lose her as we head back stage. She opens a door that we both slip through, into large cluttered area with cords scattered across the floor and random lit mirrors lining the walls. She pulls me over to the only mirror with products other then eyeliner and Tylenol. She unbuckles a brown leather bag and pulls out a small black tshirt that I quickly replace my drenched tank with.
"I can't thank you enough..."
"Aurora." The pianist finishes with a bright smile.
"That's so pretty! I'm Clara." I respond.
"Well, Clara, care to join me and the others at our table? We get free drinks and you'd probably just want to sit down after all that's happened." Aurora asks.
"Honey you had me before you mentioned the free drinks." I say. The two of us giggle as we make our way over to her bands private booth.