Facta Non Verba (boyxboy)

two minutes to show

CHAPTER 3:

"Where the fuck is he?" Marc was raving, looking out from a crack in the show curtain. "We're on in five."

"He's not answering his phone." Rico was panicking, calling him for the seventh time in the last two minutes.

"Where does that fucker get off on being late?" Marc was yelling. "Mitchell has he called you?"

"Nope." Mitchell replied, twirling one of his drum sticks idly. "Calm down. We'll just go on without him. We'll remove the songs that he has any big piano parts in from our set for tonight."

"That's all the damn songs!" Marc turned to me. "Where the fuck is your boy Seb?"

"If I knew, i'd have his ass here already." I defended.

"Maybe we can just cut his solos." Rico volunteered.

"We can't cut the solo's without cutting entire verses from the songs." I shot him down.

"Then we all just play the melody for his solos." Mitchell declared. We all nodded, realizing that was probably our best course of action.

We took our places behind the curtain with two minutes left. Marc was muttering curses to himself when I felt the empty space beside me, fill. I looked over at Dante who was helping two stage hands pull his piano out onto the stage. 'Sorry' he mouthed to me, which I ignored.

"You're late!" Marc yelled.

"I'm here now." Dante yelled back.

The curtains were lifted and we began our six song set. I sang each song mechanically, but no one seemed to notice. A few people in the crowd I recognized, including Scotty who was sitting at a small table in the front, waving at me every time we made eye contact. I wanted to jump off the stage and beat him senseless.

When our set was over the curtain was dropped and then finally... all hell broke loose.

"Are you trying to blow our shot?" Marc was screaming, clutching a water bottle so tight I was sure it was going to pop. "You're late for practice! You don't even show up to fucking rehearsal! And you waltz in here two minutes before curtain like it's no big deal!"

"Chill out Marc." Mitchell sighed. "He showed up. That's what matters."

"What matters is i've spent eight fucking years living and breathing this fucking band! I got my dad to let us perform in his restaurant! I was the one sending our CD's to anyone who would listen! I put my blood, sweat and tears into Facta non Verba and so did everyone else, so showing up two minutes before curtain isn't just unprofessional, it's like spitting on all of our hard work." Marc looked to me. "You started this band Seb! You're telling me you're not pissed right now?"

"Leave him out of this!" Dante yelled. "I started this band too! I care about this band! So just fucking drop it!"

"Then fucking show up!" Marc demanded.

"I would if we weren't practicing every five goddamn seconds!"

"Shut the hell up!" I shouted. "Everyone just put a damn cock in it until we get our money and leave here! The last thing we need is to start a reputation of fighting!"

I walked off, toward the very back of the stage where the talent scout was sitting. She smiled anxiously at me, looking behind me to see if the guys would start up again. "You guys did awesome." She smiled at me, tearing a check from her little black checkbook before handing it to me. "For what it's worth, you couldn't even tell he showed up two minutes before the show started."