Shock Therapy

[Melody's POV]

The satisfied roar of the audience filled my ears as I gave my own (and rather colorful) version of "thank you and goodnight" and took my last bow. As Holly, Shae, Elise, and I walked (and in Holly's case skipped) off stage, I could discern the sound of club employees packing up our amps, instruments, various wires and cords, and other equipment, with the exception of Elise's precious bass, which no one was allowed within two feet of.

"Awesome show tonight, girls," the club manager said as we all collapsed onto the old, beaten-to-a-leathery-pulp couch in the makeshift dressing room, sweaty and too exhausted to reply. As we regained the ability to take in oxygen without sounding as if we were dying, Elise cocked an eyebrow and said, "Did you expect anything less?"

"No. That's why I want you to play for me again tomorrow night."

"WICKED!" I said, high-fiving Shae.

"OWWW," she moaned, clutching her now very red hand. Oops.

"Sorry," I said, rather unenthusiastically.

"ANYWAYS," interrupted Mark, the manager, "Tomorrow. Be here at 5:30 for sound check and whatnot."

"Aye-aye, captain," Holly replied, saluting him as he turned on his heel and walked out of the cramped dressing room.

"Man, I am beat," I sighed as I watched Shae remove her stage make-up in the huge, vanity-style mirror from my seat on the worn-out sofa.

As I dozed off into MelodyLand whilst my bandmates chatted amongst themselves, I reflected to the past few months.

The band had started to pick up a little steam as we got more and more gig oppurtunities at progressively popular places. We had gathered a small but loyal group of fans thanks to family, friends, and Myspace, but tonight it had finally set in:

We could be something

Not just four girls fucking around with a few instruments in Shae's mom's basement.

I had confidence in us of course, and I'd be the first to tell you I'm a feminist, but how many all-female rock bands do you know of that have made it big? Face it girls, we just can't scream as well as the big boys can. But tonight had proven all my doubts pointless.

I was brought out of my reverie by a phone ringing noisily somewhere in the distance.

"Welcome back Space Cadet," Shae said as I slowly came to, "We thought we'd have to send a rescue shuttle."

"Haha, you should take up comedy!" I retorted as I rolled my eyes.

"I should!" she exclaimed, used to the bitchy attitude I got when I was tired.

I was about to make another comment when our lovely little conversation was cut short (oh the tragedy) by Mark returning with a huge grin plastered on his face that was vaguely reminiscent of one of those disgustingly happy looking Ken dolls.

"I've just gotten off the phone with an old friend of mine who's in town, he's going to pop by the club tomorrow night, so I suggest you girls give it your all," he said with a sly smirk that I was really tempted to just smack off his face (what, I'm not nice when I'm exhausted.)

"Why, who is he?" asked Elise.

"You'll see."

And with that having been said, he gave us one last grin and marched out of the room, leaving us to our own devices. Hmmm....damn him, now I'm curious. Oh well, I'll just have to wait until tomorrow.