Stolen Kisses

Chapter 5

I didn't take advantage of David's open-door policy anymore. I didn't want to see him again, I assumed the feeling was mutual.

The Saturday of the gig we practiced in my garage, I convinced my parents to go out. They weren't big supporters of the Martians. The deal was that I could have a band if I could provide myself with my own instruments, didn't disrupt them, met curfew (10 PM on school nights, 12 AM on weekends), and kept my grades up. I had yet to break any of these rules.

We practiced each of our songs until we played every note perfectly. Our music was like most music written by teenagers: about sex, corruption in our government, war, sex, how much we hated social convention, and sex. We had the quirkiness of Blink-182 and the wannabe vocals of Mayday Parade. We all wrote songs. Sometimes a member would write something, other times we all wrote together. It was usually the first with us chiming in with edits.

As we drove to the Aurora, I wondered if we dressed right. The Aurora was a club about forty minutes from Deka Hill. Once a week, it had an All Ages Night. Of course the term "all ages" really meant ages 15 and up, couldn't have toddlers in the club, bad for business. We'd never played the Aurora, but the guy who agreed to let us play said "think grunge."

Which was exactly what we did. I told Matt to wear old and torn jeans with something gray or black, and not to brush his hair. Veronica, I let dress herself, she had a way with her outfits. She wore a Stones tee shirt and some ripped shorts with flannel tied along her curvy waist. I wore an old plaid school skirt I hiked up to show some more thigh, pairing that with some fishnets and a black strappy top, low cut. Sex sells, and new gigs usually called for skimpy outfits for Ronnie and I.

We arrived at the Aurora. The big guy at the door sized us up. I told him we were one of the bands playing tonight. "The Munchkins?" he laughed. "No, jackass, the Martians, now let us in," Ronnie demanded. She always got pissed at anyone who didn't take us seriously.

The big guy let us in and we set up on the stage. We were the first band playing that night. I analyzed the crowd, mostly young adults, no one under 17. I started to worry they wouldn't respond well to our set. I felt Ronnie behind me, "Don't worry, I'm sure this college crowd is sex-crazed and anti-conformity too, we'll be fine," she assured me.

Our set was supposed to last us about 40 minutes. It was hard to get the crowd's attention at first, but once we started playing, they perked up and started feeling it. As I swayed and played and sang, I saw a familiar face I didn't expect to be in attendance, David Kollier. I fumbled a few notes due to shock, but kept playing. The next song was mostly Ronnie anyways.

As soon as the initial shock of seeing David wore off, I began to feel more confident. I felt his eyes on me. I licked and bit my lips often, swayed my hips seductively, letting him know what he was missing. I don't know what got into me, I felt as I had metamorphosed into a modern-day Aphrodite. I didn't look at him directly, but I could tell he liked what he was seeing.

Our set came to a close and we thanked the audience for being "awesome" and told them to "stay cool." As we packed up our instruments, I wondered if David had left.

Ronnie noticed something was up, "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just wanted to know if we could stay a bit after packing up. Only if you guys are cool with it though," I pleaded.

Matt agreed, "Sure, I don't see a problem."

Ronnie added, "Be here by 11:00 if you wanna make curfew."

Everything was packed in the van. I scoured the club, searching for David.

I finally saw him drinking a lager at the bar. When he noticed me, I could tell there was a sudden shift in his demeanor.

"The Martians were amazing, have you guys always been this good?" David asked, feigning innocence

"David, cut the crap. Why the hell are you here?" I questioned with fury in my voice. The last time we saw each other, he basically told me I had to let him go and move on.

He answered, "I'm sorry, but when I heard about you guys, I couldn't help but come to the show, I love a good punk band. I wasn't aware I was banished from shows."

"I haven't known you for that long, but I know damn well you wouldn't have drove 40 minutes to see some high school band," I said, practically yelling.

"Kate, calm down."

I was on my tippy toes and inches from his face, I wanted to make sure he heard me loud and clear, "You said to go, so I left. You keep telling me one thing and then doing the opposite. If you want me, take me. You can't keep kissing me and telling me I have to stay away. Goddammit, just tell me already, do you want me or not?"

He grabbed my hand with the gentlest touch. His face leaned in closer to mine, "Kate, just have a beer with me. Let's talk." I melted at his touch, and complied.

With a quite voice I said, "I can't. 16, remember? I can't buy beer."

"On me," he offered.

A beer and a half later, he started talking about how he doesn't talk to his parents. He wasn't even from Florida, he grew up in Washington state but grew tired of the rain. He really did come for the music, his favorite band was Bowling For Soup. He said they were his favorite, because he used to go to their shows with his brother, who lives too far away now. I told him that I couldn't wait to leave town and really start living. I told him my hopes and dreams. That I wanted to be a real musician. It was the first time I told anyone but Ronnie and Matt that. He said I could do it, that I had the talent to really be something.

I took a look at his watch, 1:02 AM. I started panicking. David looked confused.

"Kate, what's wrong?" He asked.