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Excuse the mistakes
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My breath escaped my lips in short pants, and I grabbed the lukewarm bottle of water in my shaking hands. I shook my sweaty bangs out of my face and unscrewed the top, and I took a large swig of water. The liquid soothed my rough throat, and I grinned broadly.
"How are you all doing tonight?" I asked, my fingers wrapping around the black microphone on its stand. The crowded bar cheered loudly in response, and I chuckled. "Well, we've had a kickass time, but this is going to have to be our last song of the night."
The crowd booed in disappointment, and I shrugged and winked at them. "We are Hardly Human, and you have been a stellar audience!" Then, I turned around and swung my guitar from my back to the front of my body. I nodded at Ethan and RJ, the drummer and bassist respectively, of my band. Ethan grinned evilly, and a second later, he raised his drumsticks over his head.
"Two, three, four!"
My fingers danced across the frets of my electric guitar as I strummed quickly to produce the beginning of "Love Bites", by Halestorm. As music pulsed through me, I turned to face the crowd, and I leaned into the microphone. The lyrics burst through my lips without hesitation, and I smiled confidently as I fed off the audience.
I reached the bridge and swung my guitar onto my back. My fingers wrapped around the microphone, and I focused on one of the blinding lights as I spit the words. With the fast pace of the song, I rushed to grab my guitar for the final chorus. When I started to sing again, I messed up the chords slightly. My cheeks flushed a bright red, and my heart rose to my throat, but I was determined to finish the song strong. I closed my eyes and melted into the music, bringing myself to a strong finish.
The crowd erupted as the song ended, and I let out a sigh of relief. There was a pleasant burning sensation in my throat that always came from a night like this, and sweat slipped down the sides of my face. I gave the crowd a mock salute, and then Ethan, RJ, and I started to walk off of the stage. I grabbed my acoustic from its stand at the edge of the stage and followed my band mates into the backroom reserved for performers.
"They were great," RJ said regarding the audience, and he grabbed the case for his bass off of the floor and started to pack it away.
"Yeah," Ethan replied as he collapsed onto the worn sofa, "Especially those two blonde girls who were sitting in the back. Do you think they're still here?"
"Why?" I asked, and I sat down on the edge of the sofa and shut my Stratocaster in its case. "Are you in the mood to get rejected tonight?" Ethan scowled, and RJ laughed and gave me a knuckle touch.
Just as I placed my acoustic guitar, the one I'd had since I found it in the attic six years ago, in its case, there was a knock at the door. RJ called out to enter, and a second later, Rufus Staal poked his head through the door.
Rufus Staal was the owner of The Garage, the bar where we performed and practiced, as well as the place I worked. We were lucky that Rufus let us play here so often because it was frequented by people who wanted to listen to good music. Because of him, Hardly Human had gotten a small following.
By following, I mean about five people who showed up to all our shows. Impressive, right?
"Hey Boss," I said, sliding my acoustic guitar case onto the floor next to the sofa carefully. "Were we terribly atrocious?"
YOU ARE READING
Going Nowhere
Teen FictionThis is my own person "junk drawer". Here, you will find ideas that never really went anywhere and never will. There are all sorts of genres to read, and I hope you enjoy.