I walked around the big, open store, staring at the guitars displayed on the walls. I'd always loved going into guitar shops, ever since I was a little girl. I caught sight of a gorgeous Les Paul and immediately ran over to see it. I hopped on my tip toes and jumped, still unable to reach it.
"Need some help with that?" A store worker asked, coming over and lifting the guitar off the wall with ease. "Be careful with this, okay? This is a very expensive guitar. Do you even play?"
"Yes."
He laughed. "Sure you do."
Handing me the guitar, he grabbed a pick out of a small bowl on a counter close by, also handing that to me.
"Play something, then."
I hated when people did that. I knew immediately that he only thought I couldn't play because I was a girl. I sighed, letting my anger build up before pulling the guitar close to me, strumming a single note before beginning. I played the solo from earlier, completely killing it, not missing a single note.
Why couldn't I do that in the studio?
I smiled, handing him the guitar back, giggling lightly at his open mouth, clearly shocked. I heard clapping close behind me, whipping around and wishing I hadn't.
Standing before me, clapping at my performance and smiling wildly, was Ryan Sitkowski. Otherly known as the guy I had just replaced. I blushed, knowing full well that he knew who I was, that is if he read the announcement the guys put on every social networking site, along with the cover spread we got in Alternative Press magazine.
"Kayla, right?" He said, still smiling.
He knew who I was.
I nodded, swallowing the giant lump in my throat.
He held out his hand. "I'm Ryan, but I'm sure you already knew that."
I stared at his hand until he dropped it back to his side.
"How are the guys?" He asked. It was clearly an uncomfortable question for him.
"Why don't you ask them yourself?" I snapped.
Rule #1: Don't make friends with ex-members.
I stalked away, moving to an array of guitar straps. I saw him follow me out of the corner of my eye and felt the lump return to my throat. I focused on the straps as he spoke.
"Here's five bucks." He gently shoved a bill in my hand. "Buy some Midol."
I scoffed, whipping around towards him, but he was already walking towards the door, laughing.
I walked out the door after him, wadding up the five dollar bill and throwing it to the ground and pulling out my smokes and lighter. I sat down on the pavement, my back pressed against the hard, cold wall as I lit up, taking a long drag. My phone vibrated in my jacket pocket and I pulled it out, shuddering again from the cold.
'Are you done?' The text from Chris read.
'Yeah. I'll be back in a few.' I replied.
'No, we'll come to you.'
I slid the phone back in my pocket and pulled my knees to my chest, taking another puff of my cancer stick. Women passing in mini vans and teenage girls with bleach blonde hair and American Eagle shirts glared at me and the cigarette. I obnoxiously put the stick to my lips and inhaled deeply, feeling my cheeks press against my teeth. I blew the smoke out of my mouth, directly in the way of a teenaged couple. The girl glared at me in disgust, the boy shook his head as they continued walking.
After a few minutes, I faintly heard Ricky's laugh. I jumped up off the cold pavement and jogged around the corner, my cigarette bouncing up and down between my lips. As I turned the corner, I caught sight of Ricky and Angelo strolling in my direction. I began running faster, right at Angelo. I jumped when I was close enough to him and his hands immediately found their way under my arms to hold me up. I laughed, pulling the cancer stick from between my lips and exhaling as Ang put me down.
"You really shouldn't smoke so much." Ang said as we all began walking in sync towards Ricky's apartment.
I took another deep drag off the stick and blew the smoke directly in his face, just as I'd done with the passing teenagers.
"Where's the rest of the guys?" I asked, looking all around for them.
"Chris, Devin, and Balz went to Ink City so Balz could get another piercing." Ricky answered, pulling out a cigarette of his own.
We walked like that all the way to Ang's place, laughing and joking and Ricky and I smoking a thousand cigarettes while Ang told us not to. This was the life.
