Sonata

Getting out of my house alone really was something not to underestimate.
My father was in charge of everything, and there had to be enough people around our estate at all times to help him out with his duties, and to protect him.

That included protecting me also.

I never knew if he actually told them to stay by me whenever I went out, or if they saw a teenage girl roaming through the halls and assumed it was his daughter, which sadly, doesn't suprise me in the least.
I barely even caught a glimpse of him during the week, let alone converse with him. He tried to explain once, in one of our rare encounters, that his line of work was much like a doctor's:
Tedious and needy.

Politics is thicker than blood I guess.

I shouldn't blame him, I know, and in his upmost honor: it's like being at the front of a stage where you become very tired, very fast and you give up trying to fight anymore.
He gave up trying to save time for his family.
I understand.

So, going in the opposite direction of another digression, you could only imagine how difficult it was to get out of my boundaries.
I had already gotten a call from Matt, asking me where we should meet, since my driveway was out of the question.

I told him that the laundry mat was the best place considering that it was a ways from my house and it was such a distinct location.
I had left my house at about 6, since the show started at 8, and walked the short saunter to our planned convergance.

Town square was almost pitch black, disregarding the bright cube encasing washers and dryers, since it was a week day. For some odd reason, the people of Wilcom, that mostly consisted of old conservatives, thought that the weekend meant visiting that ancient thrift store, or going to the western bar.
Weekdays were desolate.
Luckily for me, all its folks were inert due to work the next day, so I didn't have to worry too much about being seen by the town gossiper, which would be every dying bat who stayed at home during the day; conversing with her similar, sniveling friends.

I stopped on the corner of Jensen and Alley, in front of the mat; waiting to spot that white, molester van with my new saviors.

I had been looking forward to this night since Saturday.
Once me and Carolyne drove back to the house, I ran up to my room and stayed in bed; fantasizing and predicting the greatness that Wednesday would bring.
I thought about all the occasions when I ever went to a show, and all the prodigious memories that were included.

Time had been drawn out for too long, and I needed to make up for it.

I must have stood there for 10 minutes; representing the demeanor of a complete idiot, before those boys finally decided to show up.
My right foot tapped impatiently against the concrete as I focused on Curtis on the driver's side with an annoyed countenance taking place of his face while coming towards me.

I would have taken the slightest offense to this, since anyone would think that that insulting contortion was for them, but then I fixed to the left and saw another gentleman, not Matt, using big hand gestures and staring at the side of Curtis' face; talking to him.

Or maybe more like babbling taking into consideration Curtis' cast.

Seeing this new guy had sunken me in a bigger pool of anxiety.
What if there were more?

He did say that they were in a band.

I couldn't expect to be isolated by only them; they were bound to have other friends.
And who ever said that we were friends in the first place?

Wow that was cold.

Before I even knew it, the van had pulled up beside me.
The side door opened up, and behind it appeared Matt with nameless others in the background.

My eyes widened as I realized that loud music was blaring from inside the automobile.
I thought this was why we were going tonight.
What was the point in even picking me up.

He regarded my visible freak-out by rolling his eyes, something I was bound to get use to, and told me to chill out.

"Relax love, it's a tiny town anyways. We only turn it off when we get teh the city. Now climb in." He yelled over the stereo.

I gave him an uneasy nod and put one foot in the interior, pulled myself up, and he slammed the door shut behind me.
Inside the van was dirtier than I had fathomed.

There were beer bottles sprawled out over the whole carpeted floor, along with fast food bags and other miscellaneous trash.
A seat next to Matt was reserved for me, complete with a chewed straw and gunk that was melted, and then dried to the fabric.

How lovely.

I took it tentatively and eyed the other passengers.
The guy sitting next to me, with a ludicrous amount of ink etched onto his skin and murky brown locks, was buried in conversation with someone on his phone.
The other two, as well as the one in the front, were watching me intently like I was watching them. Maybe they were waiting for me to introduce myself; familiarize with them.
I layed my chin on the palm of my hand and gave a small, timid wave.

"Um, hi. I'm-"

"yeh don' 'ave teh acquaint yourself. I told 'em 'bout yeh." Curtis bellowed from the front.

They should really consider turning it down a little.

One of the boys snorted.

"'Told 'em 'bout yeh'?" He mocked.

I was suprised when he turned in my direction.

"He wouldn' quit talkin' about it. 'is knickers were up his ass all weekend with the way he was yappin' on an' on. 'eh guys! I just met the hot-"

"Shut it Lee. Yeh shouldn't mither her. She jus' got 'ere."
Curtis interrupted hotly.

Lee scowled at him as the engine roared back to life and we were off.
Matt than proceeded to present me to the rest of the unknown faces of his band; the first one, a second Matt, that grinned and shook my hand enthusiastically.

"Always nice teh meet a pretty lady." He said alluringly, causing me to blush.

It was winsome to come across a guy that had some manners and charisma, and even if he was not one of the better looking ones of the group, it was not any less flattering.
It was sparingly that a boy ever complimented me.
But maybe that was because I had barely left my house.

I personally did not see anything that was enthralling about my embodiment.
The boy in the front, who seemed to be so set on talking to Curtis, was now hushed behind the voices of the boys.

"Eh, don' be shy Tom." Curtis pulled the poor guy's arm to his chest; making the rest of his body visible to me.

"Eve, this 'ere's Tom. Don' worry about him, he's jus' bashful aroun' girls. He'll lighten' up, won't yeh?"

The introverted Tom jerked his arm away from Curtis and glowered at him, than jumped around in his seat to face the windshield; away from me.
This made me feel bad, but I brushed it off the best I could.

We left it at that.

Curtis was occupied with the driving, Tom with his sulking, Lee gazing out the back window, and the tattooed guy still attached to his brick of metal.

Throughout the drive, and it seemed as though only the Matts' were interested in getting to know more about me.
Or mostly:
The enamoring one.

He never took his eyes from me for even a second as I explained the conditions of my life, or when there was no conversation at all.
He would laugh at every minorly humorous statement I said like it was the most comical thing ever to reach his ears.
We had been talking for only five minutes before our arm hairs were mixing together.
It was kind of constraining after a while, to be frank.

This dude was coming on way too strong.

I glanced at the other Matt for interference so he could break through this connection, but he had left us to talk with Curtis and Tom about roadside directions to the club.

"Matt, shut up. A lass don' like when yeh put the moves on 'er like tha'. At least let 'er get a little sauce in 'er system first mate."

I fixed my gaze to my right, where the voice was coming from.
It was Mr. Tattoos.

Matt stared at him along with me for a moment before he leaned back in his seat next to Lee.
Tattoos smirked at me.

"'ello miss," he murmered as he shut his phone in half and slipped it back into his pocket.

Skinny jeans, might I add.

He held his emblemed hand out towards mine, which I took lightly. He shook it for an extended period of time; longer than necessary, while taking in my presence, I guess.
Needless to say, it was intimidating.

"Evelyn, eh? Aye, Curtis couldn' stop blabbin' about yeh. I can see why..."

Who was putting the moves on now?