chapter 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 - stacked actors

4 0 1
                                    

Saturday night rolled around quicker than Emmalyn had wanted and Dave had not yet confirmed or denied whether or not his band would play with them. Usually their manager Sharon would do the chasing up but since Dave was on speed dial for her, Emmalyn took matters into her own hands.

The gang and a few techs were in the Cherry Gloss minivan. Emmalyn had saved money her whole life to renovate an old beaten up truck and turn it into their own personal touring machine.

What was once an old pile of rust was now transformed into something that unmistakably belonged to them. A dark maroon colour shone under the Californian sun as their graffiti-esque lettering allowed anyone in a reading distance to run away while they still could.

Inside it wasn't glamorous, but a badass vehicle that carried their instruments, clothing changed and the strenuous weight of the mental baggage was enough for Cherry Gloss.

"Since when do badasses like us play the fucking Roxy?" Amanda asked Emmalyn, as she lay sprawled across the two passenger seats. Her position was awkward as she watched her bassist drive the wheel with such intensity on her face. Amanda had her head resting on the door, breathing the smoke from her cigarette straight out into the fresh air.

"Since I turned fuckin' thirty and my body gave up on our four hour shows many many moons ago," Emmalyn ranted, a slight smirk on her face but her eyes still intent on staring down the vehicle in front.

Amanda slapped Emmalyn on the shoulder playfully as she sighed, "That doesn't mean we're stoppin' them, Mama so buckle up!"

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The band's journey concluded after they arrived at The Roxy at 2pm, which was around two and half hours after they set off. Emmalyn had intended to arrive there at one o'clock, however the rest of her band were teasy and childish; which meant that they insisted on stopping whenever they felt like it.

"My legs feel like they're being stabbed," Emmalyn had peeled herself from the leather seat and stretched her legs for the first time in a while. Her body was covered in a pins and needles sensation as she walked around to the back of the van and popped open the trunk, with Amanda trailing behind her.

Emmalyn pulled out a backpack and her bass case, slinging both over her shoulders, one on each arm.

"I'm gonna go figure out the situation with rooms so can you wake up Jade and I should be out in five," Emmalyn tasked her drummer the laborious job of waking their incredibly grumpy guitarist, who would bite if someone woke her up too soon.

"Wish me luck."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The bassist threw down her stuff in a back room before wandering through into a more communal area of the building. "Ah Emmy baby!"

Sharon Osbourne paced towards Emmalyn and threw her arms around the girl, giving her a whiff of Sharon's musky perfume mixed with the scent of whiskey and cigarettes, which smelled oddly comforting to Emmalyn, drawing a smile upon her lips. "Hey, how are you?"

Emmalyn and her manager caught up for a moment, giving the bassist the change to defrag from the job of driving. Sharon lead her rockstar through to the back, picking up her bags along the way and dropping them off in the first dressing room.

"I've scored sound check at 4, but I don't know what's going on with openers because your friend isn't so good at timings, Miss Emmalyn," Sharon shook her head comically, relaxing against the cold wall behind her as Emmalyn stripped off her outer shirt, leaving her just in a vest and boy shorts.

under you || taylor hawkins - foo fightersWhere stories live. Discover now