Of Rage And Love

The four boys were greeted with a bouncer as they walked through the door. The well-built man was much taller than them, and stood imposingly in front of the inside door which lead to the bar.

“Don’t even bother guys.”

“I thought you said they wouldn’t care?” Tunny hissed from behind Ronnie, who had made his way to the front of the group.

Ronnie ignored Tunny. “Hey, Trev.”

“Ronnie?” The man looked at him properly. “Fuck, you haven’t been around in forever. How you been?”

“Good. Living in the City now with these three.”

“Really? Since when?”

“About half an hour ago.”

The man laughed. “Nice. I know, though, that these three aren’t old enough to get served in here are they?”

“Jimmy’s eighteen, Tunny is seventeen, Christian is fifteen.” He knew there was no point in lying.

“You’re trying to get a fifteen year old into my bar?” Trev raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, with the lighting in there who’s gonna notice? If it makes you feel any better, they won’t drink –”

“Hey!” Christian protested quietly.

“And besides,” Ronnie continued. “The cops never bother with checks here. Half of ‘em come in here and get wasted as soon as their shift is over anyway.”

Trev regarded the boys for one long moment before deciding that he couldn’t fault Ronnie’s logic.

“Get inside. Sit at the back.”

Ronnie flashed him a grin. Trev wasn't just the bouncer - he owned the place. If you were in his good books, it only took a little bit of sweet-talking before you were good to go.

The bar itself was lined with patrons, and the dim red lights cast eerie shadows across them. The room was hot, dark, smoky and exactly the kind of place the boys adored. There was a band on the stage that was set up against the back wall of the room, and the dancefloor was filled with writhing bodies. They sounded and looked like the Who had been put in a blender with most of the '80s, the Ramones and a low-budget theater's costume room, and their current song was an ode to the place they stood in.

"Goin' down to the Ruby Room
I'm gonna meet my doom
By the name of Rosie-May
She's the midnight pick of the day, hey hey!"

The Rosie-May of the song was apparently the woman behind the bar, as when the name was sung those who were near her at the bar raised their drinks with a cheer. The song came to an end as the boys sat down in a booth in the corner of the room. From here they had an almost perfect view of everyone else. The band clattered past them in a blur of laughter, terrible clothes and the overpowering smell of beer into the bathroom. As the door swung open, Jimmy caught a glimpse of the graffiti-covered walls of the room inside.

He was going to like it here.

There was a girl at the bar; laughing as the guy next to her slipped from his stool in a drunken stupor. She was clearly underage, but it seemed that different rules applied to the regulars than the ones that applied to Jimmy and the others.

“Hey, kid.” Someone had caught Jimmy staring.

It was a man – maybe in his mid-to-late-thirties with bleached blonde hair and dirty brown roots. His eyes were covered by white Ray Bans and he wore one of the oddest combinations of clothing that Jimmy had ever seen. It was obvious, after Jimmy had given him the once over, that he was the singer.

“Can I help you?” Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

“Question is,” It came out as a slurred ‘kweshtyunish’, but the drunken man quickly attempted to compose himself before he continued his sentence. “Can I help you?”

"I don't think so." Jimmy half-laughed.

"You're in the band, right?" Tunny interjected. "You were good."

"I know." He grinned at him. "Who are you guys, anyway? I ain't never seen you in here before."

"Tunny. This is Ronnie, Christian and Jimmy."

"And where have you come from?"

"Jingletown."

The man's eyebrows rose up from behind the sunglasses. "You're from Jingle? Holy shit it is a small world." He grinned at them, pulling up a chair. "I am the Reverend Strychnine Twitch, and I myself escaped that suburban nightmare and lived to tell the tale."

"Reverend?" Ronnie raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"

"The Church of Lushotology, of course." The man's tone made it sound like this was the most obvious thing in the world. He opened his mouth again, looking like he was about to start a well-prepared and often-used speech, but suddenly someone shoved a cigarette in his mouth and a red-nailed hand reached out to close his mouth around it.

"Stop trying to convert innocent boys to your phoney religion." The newcomer smirked down at him.

Jimmy looked up to see the girl from the bar as the Reverend scowled at her.

"Oh Ser, you ruin all my fun."

"Someone has to keep you in check, Rev." She laughed. "Blue'd kill you - and the rest of us - if you got in trouble here again."

"Blue can shove her moral highground up her -" The girl - Ser? Jimmy wasn't sure if that's what he'd said or not - cut off his mumbling.

"I'm getting you a beer, and then you're going to drink it and act like a normal person. I know it's difficult for you, Rev, but it's for your own good." She rolled her eyes, flashing a smile at the four boys as she turned to make her way back to the bar.

"Make that five beers and you have yourself a deal!" The Rev bargained.

"Fine!" She called back over her shoulder.

"You know these three are underage, right?" Ronnie indicated the younger boys. His question was met with a frown.

"Are they? Well shit, I don't care."