She studies me hard, and I look away. “Okay. Only trying to help.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I know. Thank you. I’m just…” I pause. “Not there I guess.”
“I get that. But remember, you are amazing and so is your writing.”
Her words remind me of my best friend Lori. She always tells me to believe in myself more. Be proud of my art, a talent many wish they had.
Yet I stop myself.
What am I afraid of?
Being judged. A little voice peeps up in the back of my head. Rejection.
My work slandered.
“Thanks, Mable. I appreciate it.”
We finish our drinks and cake and decide to people watch for a while. A light mist begins to fall from the sky, and I’m thankful we’re covered under a small canopy.
Scanning the street below, I notice a large crowd gathered around the building across the way. Some carry instruments, one guy with a guitar slung behind his back, and another playing with drumsticks.
My curiosity piques.
“I wonder what’s happening over there.” I nod my head in the direction of the crowd.
“Ohh, I don’t know. Want to go check it out?”
My pulse picks up speed. It couldn’t hurt, right? I’m here to explore and have fun. Why not see what all the excitement is about?
“Sure, why the hell not?”
Mable rocks on her heels. “Yahs, that’s my girl. Let’s go.”
“Band tryouts?” Mable studies the flyer and reads aloud, “Brandon Semos from LYT Records is looking for the next up-and-coming rock band to launch his record label. Think you got what it takes? Phew, I’d be shitting my pants right now if I were trying out.”
I laugh. “Why? Who the fuck is Brandon Semos?”
Mable’s mouth drops open. “Tell me again what small hole you crawled out of?”
The guys in front of us chuckle, and I want to hide.
“Shhh!” I narrow my eyes, and she shuts her mouth but not before giggling.
The sprinkles of rain have turned into a full-on downpour. Thank God Mable found an umbrella in her bag.
The same guys who laughed at us a second ago handed Mable the flyer. They probably got sick of hearing our wacky theories.
I peek around the people in front of me, the line barely moving. Twenty minutes have passed since we got in line. “Maybe we should head back. It’s raining harder, and what the hell would we do at a band tryout, anyway?”
“Good point, my friend. But we’re not leaving. We are getting in there and watching the action. I didn’t stand here in the rain for nothing. Watching hot men strum guitars and play rock music is my type of night.”
Tingles rush through me. Oh, the possibilities.
It’s a Friday, so why not be adventurous? This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Besides, rock music is my jam. And hot guys are icing on the cake.
“Would you ladies like some?” The guy directly in front of me turns around and holds up a silver flask.
My body stiffens, and I look at Mable.
“Sure, why not?” Mable shrugs and takes the flask. “What’s your poison?”
“Tequila,” the other guy answers as Mable lifts it to her lips. She hesitates and licks her lips as her eyes dart to mine.
My heart hammers against my rib cage.
This is a bad idea.
I’ve never had tequila.
Do I wanna take a drink? We just met these guys, so how do I know they aren’t super sketchy?
My mouth tastes sour, and my thoughts race as I watch Mable gulp it down with her eyes squeezed shut.
“Shit, it burns,” she sputters and hands me the flask.
The guys laugh and turn their full attention on me.
I grip the warm metal tight and lift it to my nose. The strong smell turns my stomach.
Fuck, the pressure.
One part of me tells me to do it. Be spontaneous, you only live once.
And this- this is what I wanted.
To experience life and have fun. On my own.
I ignore every instinct and swallow the vile brown liquid. It burns all the way down through my chest. I cough and sputter as the guys laugh.
“Sorry, should’ve warned you how strong it is. Shit’s like 100 proof.”
Mable shrugs and takes the flask from my grip. Tipping her head back, she slugs back gulp after gulp.
Oh, my God.
My cheeks heat as my body warms from the alcohol.
The guys cheer to my relief.
Mable hands me the flask and winks. “Last sip for you. Sorry guys, we killed it.”
“There’s more. We’re happy to share.” The guy in front of me grins and pulls out a huge bottle from his backpack.
I giggle, my head woozy, but drink the last of what’s in the flask. It still burns like a motherfucker, and I grit my teeth as I choke it down.
“Yahhh, girl!” Mable giggles and wraps her arms around me.
The guys refill the flask, and we pass it around. The line moves slow as the flask moves fast. Another four sips and I pass on the fifth. The liquor sits heavy in my stomach, and my legs are jelly.
“Thanks, guys.” Smiling so wide my cheeks hurt, I sway back and forth on the balls of my feet. Mable wraps her arm around my shoulders and laughs.
“When the hell is this line going to move faster?” she whines and leans more of her weight on me. I barely hold myself up as I giggle and pet Mable’s bright pink hair.
“You know, if you’re not trying out, you can bypass the line and go inside.” The guy in front of me points over his shoulder.
“Really?” Mable shrieks, and I laugh harder, my stomach aching. “Thanks, guys! Your tequila was the fuckin’ bomb, like really, really amazing.” Mable gushes and lets go of my arm. I fall back but catch myself.
You got this, girl. You’re drunk as fuck, but you got this.
Mable hugs both of the guys so I follow her lead and do the same. She links her arm with mine and pulls me through the crowd. I’m grateful she’s less drunk than I am, or maybe she just handles her alcohol better.
We enter through the left door, and inside is a bustle of activity. People stream by, going in every direction, some with clipboards and some with headsets. Others gather in small groups throughout the room, most with instruments.
It’s hard to stand upright, so I lean against Mable. I rest my head on her shoulder. “Ohh, this is comfy.”
Mable laughs and lifts her shoulder, nudging me off. “Rai, we can’t act drunk. Act cool, okay?” She draws her words out, and I giggle.
“What?”
“Act. Cool. Ready?”
I nod and try hard to hold in my laughter. Lifting my head, I take a deep breath, and we walk arm in arm.
It’s warm and muggy, the humidity of the rain creeping inside. Sounds of conversation, instructions shouted, equipment tests, and various sounds of music fill my ears. I blink, my mind unable to keep up.
“Wow,” I breathe.
“Right?” Mable nods and pulls us along. “I’ve never been inside here. I thought it was an abandoned theater.” Her words slur.
I tilt on my feet as we take in the high cathedral ceilings and the historic artwork decorating the insides. We pass through a double set of doors and into the old theater where rows and rows of seats stretched before us.