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  CHAPTER FIVE: THE SHOW

  I figured Josh would show up around five, so I started getting ready around four. It would be a long process. I had to look the best I'd looked in my life. I would wear my hottest outfit, probably starting with some kind of tightly fitted black pants (oh, and for the record, they wouldn't be girl's jeans, just tight jeans. Wearing your sister’s jeans was so 2006!), and work my way up from there. The rest would come to me as I got ready. Contrary to popular belief about us slightly vain scene boiz, we didn't (okay, I didn't) ever spend more than about one minute looking my closet up and down and side to side before landing on what I knew would be perfect for whatever occasion. In fact, for school, I was usually happy with a band tee and some ripped jeans. But tonight I had to go all out. I was eighteen, I was seeing the coolest band that had ever blended genres, well, that had ever existed really, and I was meeting them after the show. So all the preps, jocks, fakes, and assholes of the entire world could SUCK it!

  This wasn't my typical attitude. I was friendly, even in the face of blatant bigotry, but dammit this was gonna be my night, and I was on a high.

  Shannon had hugged me good morning when she finally woke up, and gave me an extra little gift that was so completely unnecessary that I laughed when she handed me the box. And it wasn't that I was at all ungrateful, I was just shocked. As far as I was concerned, after what she'd managed to do, along with Jackie and... Arthur, ugh... she never had to get me another gift in my life. It turned out to be a sweet-ass leather bracelet from one of my favorite stores in the mall. And it was the exact one I'd had my eyes on for a while. I guessed I must have pointed it out to her a couple of times, fashion-lust in my eyes. It would be the perfect complement to my outfit for the night.

  I showered, got dressed, and did my hair way faster than usual. Everything was in hyperdrive, my juices pumping, my heart beating fast. I brushed my teeth, put on base and eyeliner, and then powdered my face translucent, very aware I was trying to ape Andy Vein's look, since I (apparently) looked like him anyway. I figured why not play it up? I put on the jeans, and from there, just as I'd thought, the outfit sorta fell together, from my closet, onto my bod. It was just what I was going for: sleek, tight, and a little dangerous-looking.

  The doorbell rang.

  Silly polite goth boy. After years of friendship, he still refused to just walk in the door.

  "I'll get that, Shae!" I ran to the door and threw it open, but before I could say anything, I was blown away by the effort Josh had put into his appearance. Well, he was High Goth, and this would be almost as big a night for him as it was for me, so it shouldn't have surprised me, but, damn!

  "What? You're trying to out-do me tonight? Make sure Vicky sees you before she even has a chance to see me?"

  "Not even. I pale in comparison... literally. Anyway, I have something for you." He was holding a small package.

  "Oh God, you're kidding, I am way too spoiled."

  "Well sure ya are," he winked, "but, I couldn't come here empty-handed. I hope ya like it."

  The poor bastard worked at a used book store. And his parents, "comfortably-well-off" as they were, didn't believe in what they called handouts and "mad money". I would have been happy if he'd bought me a pair of socks. I opened the present he had wrapped in skull-decorated paper.

  "Are you CRAZY?!"

  "No... I'm generous. Appreciate it."

  Josh had bought me a bottle of my favorite cologne, which I used sparingly when I had the money saved up to afford it. I knew for a fact the little black bottle I was at that moment holding in my hands was worth at least eighty bucks, depending on where he'd gotten it. It had kind of a semi-lame name, Nocturne (For Men), but the smell fit really well with my chemistry. Or so many a female had told me. All I knew is it smelled good when I sprayed it on my skin.

  "Well, let me just go take care of this one little detail before we head out, then."

  "Yes, by all means, spray yourself down, Romeo!" Josh called after me as I walked cockily back to my room. "But hurry, I want us to be able to grab a bite and hang some before we line up."

  Damn, that's right, we had pit tickets, which kicked ass, but sorta sucked at the same time, because people would be lining up as early as five or six for prime spots close to the stage. Basically, we were already running late. I turned back around and headed for the front door.

  "You're right, let's jet, I'll spray as we go! I want Vicky-sweat on me, yum!...sort of a um, lustful birthday anointing? Passage into manhood kinda thing?... No?" Josh looked both amused and ashamed to call me his friend or a flash. It was so awesome how his face could tell ten stories in five seconds.

  "Eww," Shannon chimed in. "You are a twisted kiddo...But I hope you have fun. And don't even worry about me tonight, like I know you do... I've got three stellar DVD Screamfests lined up for myself, and all the popcorn I can stand."

  Everything stopped for an instant. The hustle and rush of trying to get to my big night was forgotten long enough for me to really think about what was going on, and everything the people around me had done to make it happen.

  "Shae, really, I can't thank you enough for..." I wanted to say, for being a great sister, for being stronger and more mature about everything than I could have been, for bearing the burden for both of us. But all I managed was "...for everything. I love you."

  "Love you too, Kyle. Now GO, sally forth into manhood and um, Vicky-sweat."

  I gave her a fast hug, and bolted out the door, grabbing Josh's arm as I passed.

  ~ * ~

  We drove through a Del Taco, and then sped the twenty miles to the Westridge Auditorium, Alphatwyn blaring all the way. The drive was a fast and cool sensory experience, with the windows down, the aroma of greasy drive-through Mexican food swirling through the car's interior, and the evening temperature hovering around 55 degrees. Still, we could not have gotten there fast enough. Yay for the generation of instant gratification and our insatiable need for immediate delivery of euphoria. But what the hell, I was the birthday boy for several more hours, and if there was ever a night to milk for everything it had to give, this was it.

  When we got to the venue's parking lot, the line of cars was relatively short. I guessed that a lot of people had figured since the show was at nine and there were two openers, they could afford to wait to stand blankly in the pit until Alphatwyn came on. For me, if standing through two ho-hum, quasi-lame openers meant I could be front and center of the pit, well that was a small price to pay. And I knew Josh would feel the same way, because he was always up for giving openers a chance, and he was even really into one of the opening acts; some band out of Texas called SynthLust. Whatever. I would roll with it until I saw Andy Vein hit that stage... followed, no doubt, by Vicky. I came out of my thoughts to Josh almost yelling, something he didn't often do.

  "WHAT?! You want twelve dollars for me to park in this cr-"

  "Josh, it's okay, let me get it..."

  "The hell you are! It's your birthday, you tool! I've got this. It's just...damn!"

  He must have been saving for this night for a while. If not for this event specifically, then definitely for my birthday in general. Honestly, how many guys had friends like this?

  "Okay, you officially win the prize as the king of all birthday buds in history... well, you and Shannon."

  "Don't forget Jackie... Ha, sorry, I know you hadn't. I'm sorry, I'm not trying to bring your night down."

  "Hey, naw, you're totally right. Jackie is just as much to thank as the rest of you. And I'm so totally at peace with that... and stuff." I cracked up. Josh joined in.

  "Well shit man, at least you're trying. You get a big “A” for effort. And my approval."

  "Thanks. Hey, check out the line. It's really not that bad. If we go grab a spot right now and don't screw around we might actually end up right where we need to be, provided you're not afraid to bolt to the lip of the stage once they open the doors to the hall..."

  "Yes, it'll be like a goth/scen
ester Olympic event of cardiovascular endurance to prove your love for Alphatwyn," he smiled at me. That got me chuckling. I looked at the thirty or so people in line, all clad in cybergoth-meets-scene-meets-Emotronic fashion, and had the most hilarious image of us all running full tilt toward the stage. And there is truth in comedy, because as ridiculous as I knew it was going to look, I also knew that was exactly how it was gonna go down. Truly a night to remember. I just hope I didn't trip and fall in the mad dash. And I prayed it all didn't end up on YouTube.

  The venue opened at eight, which actually came pretty fast, with Josh and I BS-ing and making some new acquaintances during our two-hour wait in line.

  Suddenly, a chubby, triple-chinned security dude with a bullhorn emerged from the side of the building.

  We were about 200 strong now, which was actually more than I'd thought would be here this early in the game, but I knew Josh and I were close enough to the front of the line to have a great vantage point for the show, even if we walked in like two zombies on downers, which is exactly how some of these kids would walk in.

  "Alright, listen up!" Bullhorn yelled, through his device which looked and sounded like it came from a toy store instead of a security product supplier. "We're opening the doors in just a few seconds, and I don't wanna see any pushing, shoving, or running! You run, you get tossed, and you don't get let back in. Period!”

  Well there went that fun.

  "Okay, as you pass through the two doors here on the left, you must, must have your ticket scanned by the usher and get frisked before you enter the lobby. Once you're in the lobby, you will proceed calmly and orderly into the pit area of the auditorium and occupy your desired spot. Thank you. Remember, this is all for your safety!"

  "Right," the kid right behind us whispered, "and so none of our parents sue your asses if one of us gets hurt." Josh and I cracked up, then straightened up and got serious fast, because the two doors to the left of the crowd swung open, to reveal comically nervous ticket-takers, four of them, two flanking each door. Beyond them were burly security guys, wearing the same uniform as Bullhorn.

  "Alright!" Bullhorn yelled, "Let's get it goin'!"

  Everybody cheered, well almost everybody. Some of the messy goths pretended to actually still be bored out of their minds and miserable to be there. Ha, go home, will ya? Honestly. They would probably pretend to be bored when Alphatwyn was on stage. I often wondered what bands thought when they looked out into the crowd and saw "fans" like that. I guess they just smiled and thought of merchandise money, right?

  The line started moving fast, and I could hear the ticket-takers monotonously muttering, "thank you...thank you... thank you," as people made their way past them and then on to checkpoint two, the security guards, who were actually handling their job pretty efficiently.

  Josh and I split ticket-takers at the door furthest left, and we both advanced to two security guys in tandem. It took Josh a little longer to get frisked, because of all his garb, but as soon as he moved through, we headed on, walking at a steady clip, like everybody else who'd just made it through. Nobody was running. Everybody was too scared of being thrown out. But we were sure as hell walking as fast as we could, watchful security guards eyeing us every quick step of the way.

  All of us were heading to the door furthest in front us marked "AUD. /FLOOR./1,” because of course this meant the closest section of open floor space to the stage. And as we rounded the corner into the floor (pit for tonight, because they'd had the good sense to remove the chairs that they kept for most conventional shows), my suspicions were confirmed: With only about forty or so people ahead of us, our entire group barely made a dent of space along the front of the stage, and in fact, Josh and I were positioned just left of center, our torsos smack up against the guardrail separating we the mob from they, the bands. Of course there was that obnoxious mote of about three feet of metal depth, that space past the guardrail that ran the width of the stage, where bored photo-poppers from all the local rags would run back and forth for the first few songs of Aphatwyn's set, and then bolt., "So whaddaya think my chances are of leaping over this thing and all up into Andy Vein's business once the shows goin' full on?" Josh posed.

  "I think if you even try it, you'll be screwed out of seeing the rest of the show, and I'll be screwed out of a ride home. Best stay in place there, Zippy," I winked. "Hey, um, about the backstage passes and... Arthur?"

  "Yeah, he's gonna come down here, using the security guardrail ‘no man's land’ as access, and slip us the passes in between the last song of the main set, and before the first encore. That's the plan anyway. And I don't have any reason to doubt it'll work. I know you have huge-ass legit reasons to hate the guy, but his word is good. I promise."

  "Hey, fine with me. It'll be nice to see that section of space used for that purpose instead of a bunch of fat photog guys blocking my view."

  "Aw, you know that only goes on for like the first coupla songs, then security usually makes them move on. Hey maybe if I lean over far enough I can get like, half my face into the paper! Of course what's the point of only giving the public half of my tragic beauty?" He laughed maniacally. I loved him when he was tweaked. His humor would spin out of control, and he'd laugh like an eyeliner-clad hyena at all the lame jokes that spilled from his lipstick-blacked mouth. This of course only made me laugh harder in turn.

  I'm sure it drove a lot of people around us crazy that we didn't fit either the Emo or Goth stereotypes, in the sense that neither of us were ever that depressed, or quiet. Not to mention that we'd sort of started the trend locally of blending the Scenes. We'd tried explaining a thousand times that we dressed the way we did because we felt drawn to the esthetic of the look, the fashion of the music we listened to. We knew we didn't always have to wear our Emotionalism on our sleeves, though God knows I certainly did more than Josh, and he was the one who always dressed as if he were in mourning. (That was actual irony, not the fake kind.) We also spent a lot of time explaining that Emo and Goth were really just distant cousins of each other, and that even the music had similar sensibilities, if not identical sounds. Hell, we knew the whole Emo thing was just a flash-in-the-pan fad anyway, one that would morph into something else within a few years; already was actually. And of course, that's why Alphatwyn brought so many people together. They had managed to find a wide fan base by blending Darkwave music, a Gothic stage show, and Emotive lyrics. Really smart, if you think about it. And besides, though it was music (and damn good music), and fashion, and art, it wasn't always an outward expression of what was going on inside. Sometimes, for fuck's sake, it was just about having fun! That's what many of our Goth and Emo peers would never grasp.

  The first two bands came and went in a big shit storm of mediocre sound and ridiculous posing, though Josh found SynthLust "really fun and worthy in a kitsch kinda way." Whatever. I was bored. I wanted Alphatwyn, Andy, and Vicky.

  I was getting antsy, and started to survey the small sea of people around me out of sheer boredom, and mild curiosity. I could see some of the people I often hung out with when I went "sceneing" on the weekends, most of them in the small "upper deck" area. Kinda didn't surprise me, most of the Emos I hung with at the small venues around the area weren't the same kids who'd be into Alphatwyn, or at least not hardcore enough to be down in the pit with so many Electro-heads and Goths. They were missing out, and I'd tried to convert many of them to the ways of "the 'Twyn,” but most just clung tightly to their strict Emo. Oh well, more of Alphatwyn to hog for myself.

  Looking around at the packed-in crowd, beautiful, ugly, and everything in between, the pierced, the tatted, pseudo-prepped, the jeans and tee set, a total cross-section of counterculture all buzzing and animated with anticipation, I started to wander off into a strange area of thought, realizing that despite my Scene popularity, supposed good looks, and all that crap, I really only had one great friend, a few buddy-bud acquaintances, and for now anyway, no girlfriend. But I was okay with that. I was here, with Josh, cou
rtesy of my great sister, and my impossible-to-figure-out ex-girlfriend. And yet, my social circle was wide enough. I was fine with most of the Scene people staying distant friends, and only keeping a few quality people close. And I was at this show with the best of all of them.

  After twenty minutes or so of roadies shuffling on and off stage, doing mic checks in a cliché monotone, and making sure instruments and bottles of water were properly placed, thick pufflets of smoke began to creep their way onto the stage. Just as this happened, I noticed Arthur off to the right hand side, talking to what looked like one of the band's people. The main auditorium lights were still on, and nobody was on stage, but I could sense an energy shift in the air. Everybody could. A barely perceptible rise in volume began in the crowd. And excitement stirred. There was the sudden smell a bit of sweat and frenzy in the air.

  The smoke got thicker, pouring from four directions, filling the entire stage and front of the audience, getting us lost in a cloud of chemical fog.

  The screams started to pop, little punctuated "WHOO"s were starting to rise above the general cacophony. Josh looked at me, eyes bugging out. I looked back at him and licked my lips, because everything started to feel numb and surreal, only partially because both of us were barely visible to each other through the fog. We knew this was it, could feel their presence coming from somewhere behind that gloriously black stage, and through that silvery mist of man-made fog.

  Then the lights went out.

  One thousand people made the loudest noise they could.

  And just when the crowd was completely fevered, and I was about to piss with anticipation, a diamond-white spot hit Andy Vein, stage center, with Vicky Vixen wrapped around his left leg, her bass hanging from her bare, porcelain torso. They held this pose for an aching several seconds, and soaked up the screaming energy of the cheers and adulation.

  Then the stage was a burst of light, and they tore into their first song, all five of them moving in sexually-charged totality, Andy breaking the ranks to move forward and own the stage, Vicky writhing around him, the bass a part of her as she played it madly, and yet somehow without ever looking at her own handiwork.