Shiraz (4 page)

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Authors: Gisell DeJesus

BOOK: Shiraz
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A license-checking guard peeked back
at me and we chuckled to ourselves as we made eye contact. Several
minutes before entering this place Antonio had asked that bouncer
if he was performing full body searches tonight, and at the time
the guard was not amused. “What are you laughing at?” Antonio
asked. Through my laughter, “You asked the guard if he gave full
body searches!”


Listen white girl, I ask
him all the time. I know he’s gay.”

I just let him keep his thought as I
knew for a fact he was not gay, but I’ll keep that fact to myself.
The Avalon was big enough for roughly one thousand people, and if
the tickets kept selling tonight, they wouldn’t have any problem
filling this place up to capacity. Three bartenders manned the
station directly to our right that ran all the way to the back exit
of the building. Half the audience had already gathered at the foot
of the stage, I assume to be as close to the band as possible. I
remember doing the exact same thing when I was a teenager, but I
never enjoyed getting punched in the back by some potential moshers
who didn’t know how to nurse their beers.

Broken Griffin merchandise sat on
display to our left, which surprised me because they must’ve been a
bigger deal than I realized. I can best describe their logo as a
bird who found steroids very early in life, surrounded by a
barbed-wire wreath, whatever that symbolized. I wasn’t going to
drop twenty bucks on a shirt just yet, I need to see what they’re
all about. My concept of “soft rock” was the few songs I had heard
by Metallica, so I had no idea what I was in store for tonight as
it is not really my style. Wasn't Metallica Metal anyway? Who
knows?

 

Antonio finished raiding the bar which
meant I was already two drinks in and feeling nice. The second
opening band, Seek the Truth, wrapped things up by thanking the
audience for coming out. After finishing my second cup Antonio
jumped to order shots. I hadn’t intended on doing shots, but he was
sweet, so we toasted to “fun times ahead,” which sounded like a
plan to me.

The band was soon starting so I
ordered a glass of wine to take it slow as opposed to downing
alcohol. If I said I wasn’t already feeling nice I’d be lying.
“Where do you want to try and stand? Looks full already,” I added
to my question.

Antonio threw his head back and
cackled. “Minday, mami, I told you I know the singer! We already
got hooked up, come with me.” Confident, he took my hand and guided
us to a staircase on the left side of the room which led up to a
balcony. Another security guard checked the tickets we had shown at
the door, and upon inspecting them, he finally allowed us to
proceed to what I imagined it was some kind of VIP
section.

The ginormous balcony overlooked the
stage which remained dim as a single shadow set up the equipment.
Several chairs had been positioned on the three tiers of flooring,
giving us an unobstructed look at the stagehands already setting up
for Broken Griffin. I listened as Antonio went on telling me how he
first met the singer, Alexa. He explained how he had been living in
France and had the opportunity to get casted as an extra for a
music video they shot. Thanks to Antonio’s unnecessary excitement,
he was kindly asked to leave the shoot, which prompted an
unwarranted rant from him about the abuse he was suffering at the
hands of an ignorant director. Alexa laughed at his theatrics and
decided that rather firing him, Antonio should be one of the main
characters in the video.  


And that’s the peak of my
fame,” he said switching the leg he had crossed, back under the
other.  


Impressive! I had no idea
you were ever an actor. You certainly don’t lack the persona,” I
complimented.


Not
actual
actor, Mindy. A glorified extra. Flamboyant
Spaniards are not the rarest thing in the world, and since I can’t
sing to save my life, I was never going to amount to much anyway.
I’m happier now! I help people, I never picked up a nasty heroin
habit, and I made friends like you and Alexa along the way, and now
we are having amazing nights like at this very moment. My life is
wonderful!”


Salud,” I replied,
clinking my glass against his as I let out a huge grin. I like how
his tone tuned to a more serious one and I went from Minday to
Mindy.

The lights went from dim to complete
darkness and the crowd broke out into a cheer. As the light
brightened back to normal lighting a drum set designed with the
band’s logo sat toward the back of the stage, flanked by a keyboard
and at least three standing microphones. As the roar of the fans
grew louder the stage misted to a complete fog. Antonio began to
scream while I remained silent, but still excited to hear what
these guys have in store. I sat with my ankles crossed peering down
through the glass shield around the balcony, still gripping onto
the shaft of my wine glass.

From out of the darkness, the keyboard
began cranking out synthesized notes. The notes were soon after
joined by the rest of the band, not wasting any time launching into
their first track. Alexa stood out, possessing a vocal range that
only a classically trained opera singer could pull off. Antonio
was, for once, not exaggerating. They sounded fucking
amazing.

An eerily violet light overtook the
whole ceiling, turning the stage into what looked like the bottom
of a fish tank. Alexa had her own spotlight for obvious reasons,
but it was easy to devote equal attention to the rest of the band.
I hadn’t learned their names yet and it was now too loud for
Antonio to scream in my ear, but they played the part of the rock
band well. Alexa has long, flowing hair that bounced up and down
while she rocked her head during each of her solos. Her jewelry
adorning her necks, wrists, and fingers, beautified what was
already beautiful about her outside appearance.

Their songs had a wide variety of
power and harmony. The guitarist went acoustic for half of a song
before the rest of the band joined in, and it was magical. I wish I
had known more about them and the names of some of these tracks,
because I was rapidly becoming a fan on my own.

I don’t remember when it happened . .
. if it was one exact moment, or a continuous drawing of my
attention, but my eyes stopped moving when I focused on their
drummer.  He didn’t seem to be playing up the gimmick as much
as everyone else as his dirty blonde hair was kept short, and he
wore a sleeveless black shirt with no signs of makeup or
accessories. He was different. So intense and
mysterious.

I watched him pound away
at the five different drums in front of him, four cymbals and
simultaneously keeping his foot locked onto the bass. The hand-eye
coordination it must take to do that made my mind race, and seemed
to be doing the same to my heart. He was drenched in sweat by the
end of the third song, but every new track turned into a shot of
adrenaline for this animal.
Faster and
harder he went.
That’s what he looked like
while wielding the sticks in his hands; a beast, a savage who was
conquering the music that came out of his soul, destroying anything
in his way.

When the song slowed to an end I
cheered along with the rest of the crowd as everyone transfixed
with the spectacle of the show in front of them. Alexa thanked
everyone and took the time to introduce everyone behind her . . .
the guitarist, keyboardist, bass player…

“…
and of course, our man
with the iron fists and steel arms, please show your love to Broken
Griffin’s extraordinaire drummer, Ryan Michaels!”

Ryan stood up waving and bowing to
everyone, hamming the crowd for actually acknowledging the guy at
the back of the stage. I stood up clapping as I thought he did a
tremendous job. He had dark brown eyes that sank into his face,
their color drowned out amid the rest of the lighting around him.
He sat back down in his black jeans, guzzled some water out of a
bottle he must have been keeping by his bass drum, then snapped his
hands back on his sticks like a magnet.

I watched him grip the sticks,
twirling each of them between his thumb and forefinger like a
magician preparing to make them both disappear. Antonio was saying
something about a side project that the keyboarder was working on,
but I was oblivious. Ryan looked like he was conducting his own
orchestra as he really was the most important cog in the wheel of
the band, and he knew it.  His eyes scanned the crowd just
after placing a hand over his forehead to shield the spotlight from
his field of vision.  

He tilted his head up to
the balcony.
Oh dear.

My own eyes widened. He was staring
right at me . . . wasn’t he? I half expected lasers to beam out of
his eyes as his gaze was so piercing and definite. He held that
glance for a few more seconds, during which I couldn’t move. What
the hell was happening to me?

I watched him start the next song,
beating the drums into submission while the rest of the band sang
and played as if this weren’t a club, but an open stadium. My mouth
was suddenly dry; it had been agape for several minutes since I
laid eyes on Ryan. I caught myself as I took another sip of wine,
finishing what was left. I asked Antonio if he wanted another
drink, which he obviously agreed to, so I went back to the
bar.

My legs felt wobbly as I descended the
staircase. Each strike of the bass drum reverberated through the
floor which sent a shake throughout my entire body. I snaked my way
through the mass of people, signaling to the bartender for two more
cabernets. I looked back toward the stage, amazed at how much
smaller the band looked from this distance. Their native fans in
France must be insanely jealous with the overwhelming fan base they
have received in the U.S.

I returned to the balcony with both
drinks in hand just as Broken Griffin prepared to perform their
last few songs. Antonio took his cup from my hand and slyly
remarked, “I caught you looking at Ryan,” he cooed as he downed his
shot without waiting for me.


What?” I obviously tried
to downplay my guilt.  “I--I mean--of course, I was looking at
the entire band. They sound incredible, I love them all, and Alexa
has an amazing voice. Why didn’t you urge me before to try and
listen?”


You’re so full of shit,”
he wasn’t convinced at all, pointing at me fiercely like he was hot
shit. “I don’t blame you, I wish he could pound my drums, but sadly
he is all about the ladies. We’re meeting up with them later, so
make sure to get his number!”

There was no way I had heard him
correctly. “What the hell? You’re kidding, right?”


No I’m not kidding. Why
would I not want to hang out with my friend I haven’t seen in years
and introduce you two along with the entire band? They’re nice,
don’t worry!”

I turned from Antonio and faced the
stage again. Their final solo was winding down, but my heart was
heading in the exact opposite direction. When the music stopped,
the crowd exploded, generously showering them with cheers and
chants. The entire band gathered up front, joined hands and bowed
in unison. As they came up, I could swear I saw Ryan shoot a glance
in my direction as they exited.

I felt like a million icicles were
jabbing into my back at once. Antonio had me follow him backstage,
navigating the hallways of the Avalon like he owned the place. Old
posters and props littered the floor, cluttering an already narrow
path that twisted and turned around sharp corners leading to
storage closets and several green rooms. Broken Griffin occupied
the biggest of them, and each step I took toward their suite felt
like another step toward a heart attack. I felt like a teenager
with her V.I.P backstage passes to meet her favorite artist trying
not to drool over the pretty drummer boy. What the hell was wrong
with me?

A lone door toward the end of the maze
had the band’s logo plastered on the smack in the middle. Antonio
waltzed right up and knocked in the same whimsical manner he had
done on my apartment door earlier in the evening. It only took two
seconds for the door to open, and Alexa, still shining from her
performance, greeted the door with a squeal. Her bracelets jangling
around the back of his neck as she jumped on him, chiming as they
knocked against each other. Behind her, I saw the band members and
some of their friends picking at the last of their catering. It
looked like an unhealthy amount of wine and alcohol still remained
untouched, how tempting.

Alexa ushered us in soon after she
greeted me with a gentle hug. The room didn’t look much different
than the hallways that led to it, but was furnished well enough
with couches resembling the one we sat on to watch the show. Alexa
had her own makeup station, decorated with a mirror surrounded by
lights, like something right out of Hollywood from the 50’s. She
and Antonio were already yammering away, with a ton to catch up on.
 

I watched them as they conversated,
Alexa flashing her smile as she laughed, and they were as
well-maintained as the rest of her figure. She then turned to me,
“So how do you know my Antonio? He always kept good company even
though he knows how to scare people off just as quickly as he
brings them in.”  Her accent was totally unfamiliar to me, her
voice carrying the air of a fairy.


Oh, I’m well aware of his
antics,” I answered, apparently a little bit star struck without
any self-awareness. “I feel kind of bad now. He has been talking
about your music for weeks and I was too damn lazy to listen to any
of it, now I regret it.”

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