Bad Reputation

Chapter 2

I take in a deep breath as I pull back the pitch-black curtain that separates this brightly lit hallway from backstage. My eyes immediately meet with the grey, stone colored eyes of my drummer, James. His long blonde hair hangs down over his face and onto his shoulders as he nervously twists his wooden drumsticks through his fingers.

"Hey, Ella's finally here." He announces to Ryan who is peaking his head through the curtain that separates us from the main stage. As he pulls back, I notice that he has shaved both sides of his head and the remainder of his hair is now standing in a blue six-inch tall mohawk. He is wearing a pair of baggy black jeans and one of our more modest band tees' that is black with our band name in big, bold, white letters. I blink a few times and shake my head in disbelief.

"Wow! That is quite the change." I say with a chuckle as Ryan rubs over the right side of his now shaved head.

"Yeah, I got tired of everyone mixing me up with Ryder, so I cut off the luscious brown locks." He replies to me with a nonchalant air.

"Speaking of, where is Ryder?" James asks as he gets up from the trunk he was sitting on in the corner. He smooths out the same tee that Ryan is wearing before pulling up his pale blue skinny jeans.

"I'm right here." I hear a voice call out from behind me. Ryder stands next to me and places his forearm on my shoulder like an armrest. He is dressed in the exact same attire as his twin brother Ryan, the only way to tell them apart now is by the long, chestnut brown locks on Ryder's head.

"Ryder, I realize that you are a foot taller than me; but I am not your arm rest." I grumble at him as they all burst into laughter.

"It's not our fault that you are a dwarf, Ella." Ryder teases me as he makes his way over to his bass that is perched on its stand. I promptly give him the finger as he lifts his black and white bass effortlessly before throwing the strap over his shoulder and reaching down to grab the aux cord.

I let out a heavy sigh as Ryan follows suit and grabs onto his crimson red Stratocaster guitar before also plugging himself in. I walk to the very back of the room and lift my pride and joy off of it's stand. An electric blue Washburn Dime3 guitar that I saved up for over the course of six years. My parents bought me my first guitar at the age of twelve years old and I have been saving every penny I earned for it ever since.
I place the strap around my shoulder and pull the pick from in between the strings quickly as I make my way back to where my bandmates are nervously standing. I reach down to grab the aux cord meant for my guitar before standing erect and parting my red colored lips.

"Alright guys, I know we have a lot of pressure on us tonight... but we have to pretend that Mr. Cohen is not in the audience. Our fans love us the way we are, so there is no reason to be nervous." To my surprise, my voice seems even and calm although inside I am probably more nervous than any of them. Thank God for public speaking in high school.

"Ella is right. As long as we don't let it get into our head and play like we always do, we are going to be fine." James follows up.

"Exactly." I confirm as I hear Marty's dress shoes click against the concrete floor. I turn to face him as he hands me a microphone to start our show.

"Break a leg out there, guys. You've got this." Marty says as I take the microphone from him and he retreats into the well-lit hallway.

"Let's do this." I say confidently to the guys. A few moments later, we hear the lights shut out on stage and the boys take their positions as I hang back. This is it. The moment of truth; no backing out now.

I click on the microphone that Marty handed me a moment ago and bring it to my lips before letting out an evil laugh that echoes through the concert hall.