The Now or Never Kind

People were talking. Whispering really, but I hated when people talked around me while I was sleeping. It crept into my dreams and made things really weird. But the fact was that they’d woken me up and I didn’t want to open my eyes or move; there was a lock of hair between my fingers that felt really nice to twirl.

I was paying more attention to that—along with the hands on my ribs and hip and the shoulder under my cheek— than what everyone else was saying, but I unwillingly entered the conversation when the body half under me sniped, “Yeah yeah yeah. When was the last time a hot chick wanted to fall asleep on top of you?”

Before anyone responded, I groused sleepily, “She wishes she hadn’t because your voice is really deep and rumbly inside my head.”

Several resounding “ooooh!”s rung through my head as I opened my eyes to peer at Danny. He grinned, looking far more awake than I felt. “Baby, now how is that a bad thing?”

I grunted, not wanting to deal with being equally charming so early, and pushed myself off him; unfortunately I had to untangle my legs from his in the process of sitting up, and he made no effort to move or even pull his glasses from the top of his head. “I kind hate yoooo…” I drifted off, noticing for the first time exactly how many people were surrounding us. A large majority of the bus, plus Beth and Didi. “…Why are you all standing here?”

“It was like watching free porn!” Matt exclaimed gleefully, drowning out Didi explaining that they’d walked in and found us.

“Free British porn,” Seth corrected sarcastically. Some of the others laughed; obviously it was a reference I didn’t get. I was amused when Sean protested, “Oi!” and smacked his arm.

“I’m getting dressed,” I muttered, stumbling up and ruffling my hair as I exited to the bunks. I took my sweet time picking out clothes to hang out for the day in, as well as washing my face and putting on a bit of makeup. Nothing drastic. Drastic was for later.

When I came back into the front lounge, a guitar had been procured and Danny was singing. “…Sometimes you got to say please,” he crooned. “Sometimes you got to say, hey!” I stopped short when he snapped his head up to look at me, smirking growing on his face. “~I’m gonna fuck you…softly… I'm gonna screw you gently~”

My eyes widened in horror as he kept singing, much to everyone else’s amusement. “~I'm gonna hump you, sweetly… I'm gonna ball you discreetly!”

I tore my gaze away from Danny to stare between Didi and Beth. If their expressions were anything like my own, I wasn’t alone in worrying that he’d heard us in awe of him yesterday. Also I was probably either as scarlet as a cardinal (which looked much more attractive on Didi) or white as a sheet (which Beth was nearing).

“~What's your favorite posish? That's cool with me, It's not my favorite but I'll do it for you~” Danny continued singing, pretending to be blissfully unaware of my reaction even though he was looking right at me. “~What's your favorite dish? I'm not gonna cook it, but I'll order it from Zanzibar!~”

He paused in his epic guitar playing and laughed. “You know what’s funny is that there’s a strip club in Toronto called Zanzibar,” he noted. Even I couldn’t help laughing at that little fact before he recommenced playing, though I did notice with a certain amount of dread that Matt had been recording the whole time.

“~And then I'm gonna love you completely, and then I fuckin fuck you discreetly,~” A chill ran up my spine at the low note he hit oh-so perfectly, “~And then I fuckin’ bone you completely, but then I'm gonna fuuuuck! Yoooou! Haaaaaaaard!~”

Seth, Matt, Jesse, and Joe joined him in harmonizing on a second “Haaaaaaaard!” though he didn’t really need the help. Danny had a damn impressive voice… even if he was making fun of me and singing about various levels of sexual vigor.

Everyone, laughing, whooped and applauded as Danny put down the guitar and gave a little bow. I crossed my arms, unable to stop myself from smirking, and waited until Matt shut the viewfinder of his camera. Danny got up and wandered past me, grinning cheekily, towards the bunks.

“Is that an offer, you sick puppy?” I questioned in a quiet, challenging tone.

He walked backwards, face seemingly permanent in its amusement. “Well, I did wake up with you on top of me playing with my hair,” he replied.

The excitement died down soon after Danny departed, but I still stood in the middle of the aisle with my arms crossed. Eventually I turned to face my comrades-in-arms. “This is going to be really difficult, isn’t it?” Beth and Didi nodded emphatically, and I sighed before collapsing onto the couch.

Beth sifted pieces of my hair off my face. “It doesn’t have to be,” she reminded. “If he weren’t so obviously into you, I would definitely be all over that.”

“I might have to try, regardless,” Didi put in.

I rubbed my eyes. “I’d say ‘fuck my life,’ except a thing like that’s what got me into this blue ruin debacle.”

It was later in the day than I’d guessed, almost noon, so instead of breakfast we ladies went out for lunch and left the guys to fend for themselves. Aromi came along too, saying he wasn’t ready to be a responsible tour manager yet. It amazes me sometimes that he’s twenty-four.

I ordered a veggie burger and a Dr. Pepper and commenced staring out the window while everyone else requested food. I didn’t want to get mopey so early, but I kept thinking, which was a sure-fire way to do it.

“Maybe he’s just messing with me,” I suggested after a few minutes. The conversation paused as my compatriots looked at me. “Maybe he’s the sort who’ll try to get a girl worked up just for the challenge of it.”

“No offence, sweetie, but he picked the right target if you’re right,” Aromi said, sipping his iced tea. I rolled my eyes at him. “Hey, I could’ve said you’re ripe for—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Beth cut in.

“I don’t really think he’s like that,” Didi said once we got our food. “I was talking to him at dinner last night. He seems like a really sweet guy.”

I smiled around my straw. “Being sweet does not mean you’re not a bastard. We learnt this from Kill Bill.”

“Well then why are you taking it lying down?” Beth asked, picking up her burger. “No pun intended.”

“…Thank you,” I said dryly, “I really needed to think about that.” I shrugged, dragging a fry through my glob of ketchup. “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?”

“Yep,” they all replied.

“I’m just paranoid because the last time I got involved with a ‘sweet guy,’ we got into a two-year relationship that went sour halfway in, aren’t I?”

“Yep.”

“…This vow of celibacy is really stupid, isn’t it?”

“Duh!”

We successfully evaded and avoided everyone else for the next few hours until sound check, which dragged me away from plotting and finding a good outfit. The girls helped me concoct my scheme, and even though Aero didn’t quite approve, he still couldn’t resist mischief. It didn’t take me long to get through sound check for bass—thirty seconds, if that—but I had to wait around until after the guys had finished due to a microphone issue.

I sat on the edge of the stage with my headphones in, swinging my feet back and forth to the music. Someone sat down next to me and stole one of them out of my ear.

“Why are you listening to us?” Danny asked, laughing as he held it up to his ear.

I snatched it back and tossed my hair back. “I’m trying to appreciate you as an artist,” I answered loftily. He scoffed, and I grinned. “Also I’m bored as hell.”

“Yeah, I heard we’re having issues.” We looked back towards the sound booth, where technicians were frantically trying to get things to work. Danny swung his head back around. “What colour is your favourite pair of underwear?”

I stared at him blankly for a few seconds before pausing my music. “Would you repeat that?” He did. “That’s what I thought you said. What the hell?”

He grinned. “I don’t know anything about you,” he pointed out. “So why not start there?”

“…In my knickers.” I arched a distrusting eyebrow at Danny as he laughed and nodded. I considered this question a moment. “I’m not sure if I have a favourite pair.”

“C’mon.” He nudged my elbow with his. “Don’t cop out.”

I pursed my lips as I listened to his band play through one ear and went through the inventory of my unmentionables drawer. “Black and white,” I decided eventually.

“Stripes?”

“Polka dots.”

“Nice!” I laughed at his enthusiasm. “I’m a navy blue man myself.”

“Why is it that all forms of men’s underwear comes in navy blue?” I asked suddenly. “No matter what you wear, you always have the option of navy blue.”

Danny paused. “…I’ve never thought about it,” he admitted, eyes widening.

I laughed at the awed expression of thought overtaking him and looked up when someone said my name over the PA. Apparently they’d fixed the mics and needed me to test them. I hopped up from my seat and positioned myself behind the stand. “Don’t move,” I said, pointing at Danny, who’d turned halfway around. “I’m gonna serenade you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright. Gimme your best shot.”

I scrolled through my iPod, humming nonsensically as I looked for a song. “Whenever you’re ready,” said the mysterious voice over the speakers.

Holding up a pausing finger, I pressed play and began dancing to the drum intro. Danny snorted and cracked up until I whirled around, grabbing the mic and leaning it and myself towards him. “~Don’t be so haaaard on yourseeeelf!~” I belted, amused when his eyebrows rose. “~The naaame of the gaaame is humiliation, and thanks for your admiration. I never thought I'd say thiiiis… The waaay that we plaaay has such confrontation, and guilt by association…~”

I smirked at him, strolling away from the mic during the instrumental before, and then ran to the stage right mic, grabbing it off the stand for the chorus and dancing back to him. The dancing was full of lots of body rolls and hip gyrations. He noticed. He noticed so hard I thought my clothes were going to catch fire.

I kept switching off microphones, just to keep the sound people happy, but I definitely put all my energy and attention into singing to Danny. And of course, no crooning dedication is complete without dramatic hand gestures and longing facial expressions.

When the crew told me they were good—I honestly think they got too distracted watching me—I stopped mid-chorus, jumped off the stage, and skipped towards the dressing room.

“That’s it?!” I heard him call after me. I waved without turning and continued singing the bridge to myself.

Once doors opened and kids started to filter in, things flooded back to being normal. On my way back and forth and up and down and around—for some reason I was always wandering around doing things before shows—I talked to people, some of them familiar faces and others newbies to the P. Dreadful family.

The boys and I milled around the back and the bar during the first band—some local flavour to support local music, because if we didn’t, who would?—and drifted apart, each requiring different amounts of time to get ready and having different amounts of sociability. I left after a song by the next band We Are The Fury—I’d met them on Warped last year—to get ready.

Sifting through my suitcase outside my bunk, I dragged out a black v-neck with purple lightning on it, a sufficient bra, and black skinny jeans. I greeted Matt, who was in the bathroom doing his eyeliner, before I threw him out and shut the door to change. I also fixed my hair: ruffled it up, flattened it, flipped over, ruffled it up again, flattened parts.

I have strange habits.

When I wandered back through the venue with my bag of finishing touches, the Audition were getting ready to go on. I tossed Danny a smile, but didn’t stop when he looked like he wanted to say something. Sitting on the couch next to Sean, I dropped the bag on the table and pulled out my makeup.

“Should I do this now?” I wondered aloud. “I kind of want to go watch their set.” He shrugged, peering suspiciously at the other contents of the bag. I smiled and hopped back up.

I stuck to the back of the crowd, watching with my arms crossed in the darkness. Some people came up and started conversations or asked for pictures, and I was happy to oblige, but I always kept one eye on the stage. Each member had his idiosyncrasies, I noted as I sang along under my breath, but the audience seemed more intent on the volume of their energy and having a good time.

Well, good. To say these guys were good would be to do them an injustice. So much so that I had to give into my desire of joining the mosh pit during “You’ve Make Us Conscious.” I don’t think anyone noticed, though.

Except maybe the kid I helped up after he got bowled over.

Danny, amidst all the talking from both sides of the stage, announced that they had three songs left—that was weird; who announced things like that?—and I took that as my cue to finish getting ready. Aromi was backstage in the green room waiting, and he whined impatiently as Islapped on carefully covered my eyes in metallic silver and dark red.

Jesse walked in, asking if anyone knew where he put his lucky belt bucket, and stopped. “Uh…” I glanced over my shoulder away from the chair I was gripping; Aero pulled the laces tighter and I winced, exhaling slowly and drawing another deep breath. Trill tilted his head as our manager knotted the long laces running down my back. “Pen, why are you a Victorian hooker?” he asked.

I straightened up, adjusting my collar and trying not to be fazed by the fact that my cleavage was now considerably more prominent and closer to my face. “I’ve worn this before,” I said, running my hands down the pure white brocade.

“Not during a show,” Sean observed, pausing in his circling. “Can yeh sing like tha?”

“Absolutely.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Jesse exclaimed, looking frustrated.

“What doesn’t what?” Matt asked, wandering in. His eyes fell on me and his jaw slackened. “Damn!”

I smiled wryly. “That’s why,” I replied, collecting my cosmetics and throwing them back into the case. I continued resolutely, “If he wants to play games, he should know that I make up my own rules.” My smile grew wickedly. “Work hard, play harder.”

The guys blinked, confusion painting their faces. “Well,” Matt said lightly, eyes moving up and down again, “I’ve never wanted to motorboat someone so badly. So I guess that’s good.”

It felt impossibly good to perform again. I hadn’t realised how stressed I felt until I got onstage and left everything on the floor. I didn’t think about my parents or boy troubles or being an adult. There was only me, the band, and the club.

That was enough for me.

“So hey!” Matt said into his microphone as the rest of us tuned. I scoffed at some of the ridiculous things that people yelled—whether “I love you!”, “Take off your shirt!”, or people trying to get our attention—and kept tuning. I had to admit, having my boobs so high I could conceivably use them as a chin rest was disorientating. “In honour of the first night of tour, we’re having an orgy after the show!” Everyone cheered, including Jesse. “All the bands are gonna be there, so you should come!”

Pause. “Show up and then come.” Laughs and more approval.

“I will not be participating,” I publicized. A lot of guys and some girls boo’d and aww’d, which only made me laugh.

“She’ll be filming it,” Jesse continued with a straight face, “And posting it on Buzznet.”

“Then you can probably find her cuddling in Danny’s bunk,” Matt added, brushing his hair to the side. Girls shrieked and someone whistled.

I smiled with hopefully less embarrassment than I felt. “At least he doesn’t shark me when I’m sleeping,” I retorted.

“I like spooning, okay!” Several people in the front yelled that they liked spooning too. “Sweet! We’ll have a spooning train after our orgy!”

I shook my head. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is why people don’t mic their drummers.” Sean, thankfully, then began playing the opening riff to the next song, and I could go back to being sane for another four minutes.