Elevator Operator

Chapter 1

She picked her guitar case up by the handle with her bandaged hand. She shouted out to the other band members, "Hey, we need to get this stuff in the van before three!" They hurried out of the small apartment. Sonia, the tour manager, pulled out her small metal clipboard.

"Let's go, guys!!" Marcy quickly looked down to find that her shoelace was untied. She fastened it back again with her bandaged hand. She quietly yelped at the immense pain that shot up her arm. Finally, Mark, the van driver, pulled up to the venue and popped open the door.

The band hustled out of the van and into the dark, musty bar. It smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and broken dreams causing one of the band members, Rob, to cough. Marcy craned her neck quickly toward Rob's direction. "Oi, Rob, y' okay?" He continued to cough but nodded his head reassuringly.

The band promptly set up their equipment and then decided to hang out in the bar's lounge area. They only sat on select spots of the sofa, due to the many mysterious stains. Marcy kept her cool composure on the outside but was absolutely losing it on the inside. She felt very anxious for the gig they were to play shortly.

Her other band mate, Ben, tried to reassure her. "Hey, Marce, it's okay. Do you wanna rehearse, you know, so you won't be so nervous?" Marcy nodded and Ben ordered everyone over to the stage. "Okay, guys," he said, "we're going through the whole album, from the top." They all played and before they knew it, it was already five minutes to showtime.

They could hear loud voices chattering off into the void, yelling, and random kitche orders. Marcy thought she might sweat to death, or even faint, before the show started. She pulled her guitar out, tuned it, and head onto the stage to join her band. She walked dangerously close to the edge of the stage with the microphone in her hand. Everyone began to cheer.

"Uh, hey! We're 'Everyone's My Boyfriend'. Enjoy the show!" As she played into the third song, she felt a presence. Marcy looked to the crowd to find a mysterious man in a jean jacket with a pair of tight, ripped black jeans. He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of menthols. He lit the cigarette and stared at Marcy intently. As a result of his mysterious aura enveloping her, her finger promptly slid and caused her to be off a measure or two with a side of sour notes.

She had clearly not learned her lesson, considering the fact she went back to staring at him again. He had deathly pale skin, almost blue in color. He reminded her more than vaguely of an alien. He didn't seem to blink that often, either. He had thick, pink lips and slicked back, beach blonde hair. He seemed very keen to the beat; tapping his dead feet in his shoes along to the beat of the drum. Who was this guy and why was he affecting Marcy so much?