Eight Dollars (Trixya)

Dollar 7

Someone had made the mistake of pointing out the acoustic guitar by the stage whilst showing us around the club, and from that point on Brian heard nothing else. I could see him planning out what songs he could play that night, and I couldn't wait. Sometimes it seemed like he could do everything performance-wise, which would be really annoying if it wasn't him. I loved when he got to do his own music live, especially as I rarely got to see it. He was super private about his music, and he was always reluctant to seriously play anything in front of me, especially his new songs.

-

There was a cheer of excitement from the crowd as Trixie walked out onto the stage, guitar slung back over her shoulder. Paired with her floaty white dress and flower crown, she looked the perfect image of Barbie doll hippie chic.

Thanking the audience for coming, she twisted the guitar around to hold it, pulling out a pick (pink, of course). She strummed a sequence of chords, already seeming lost in the flow of the music.

"Let the rain come in the window screen,
Lose a dollar in the vending machine,
Spill a coffee on my new pair of jeans,
'Cause you belong to me,"

Her voice was soulful and clear, and I was glad to just be able to listen. I'd heard the recording of the song, written not long after we'd first met, but seeing it live was something else.

"And if my sky ain't painted a perfect shade of blue,
I can count on you to paint it down,"

The line was delivered with a smile in my direction, and for the first time in a while I wondered just who it was all written about.

"You're so gay for him," Amy whispered in my ear, smiling widely. I was so lost in watching Trixie that I hadn't noticed her appearing by my side. Being kinda short, she almost got lost in the crowd.

"Fuck off," I bit back, rolling my eyes.

She shrugged, still smiling, because she could see almost better than I could that she was right. Nudging my arm, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, she left me to listen in peace.