Sequel: Postcards From... ›
Status: Re-written
The Club Is Open Until 8:00Pm
Dix-Huit
This was Imogene’s favorite part of the song and probably her favorite part out of the entire night. It’s when the bass drops out of the song for ten seconds and she can do practically anything she wants. She did her usual thrashing around. Nothing I didn’t already expect from her. Thomas eyed her cautiously. He didn’t wanna get hit again. I’ve only been hit maybe once or twice. Both my Imogene. Both times really hurt.
Her ten seconds were almost over, but not completely. She was returning to her side of the stage when her foot got caught in the cord running from the mic to wherever. She yanked her foot out and tripped making the cord around my leg tighten and cause me to fall. On my butt. In front of everyone.
It took us a while to recover from that. We untangled ourselves and stood back up. Imogene was able to pick up instantly from where she left off unlike me who was totally lost and didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where in the song I was, so I decided then that the rest could be a solo. Thomas and Imogene didn’t mine. Adrian probably didn’t even notice. The crowd didn’t mind. Much.
I headed backstage and waited for the rest to finish. I tried to sit down, but it hurt to angle my back that way. I just stood. Something involving my tailbone. Once they were done, they joined me back here. I took a swallow of water when Imogene tried to sit down. It hurt her to. I tried not to laugh. Or choke on the water.
“Damn! That fall really did a number on my ass.” Imogene whined. “Aw, does your butt hurt babe?” Adrian pouted, patting her bum. “Hands off!” She exclaimed. He raised his brow suggestively. “Feisty. I like that.” I rolled my eyes. “Are you like mentally-ill or something. You’re into dudes, remember?” Thomas shook his head and tended to his guitar. “Yeah, babe, and you’re the reason why.” I wasn’t saying anything for this argument.
“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Thomas asked. “I don’t know. I think August is coming over so nothing much.” I answered. The owner of the club peaked at us from behind the wall and applauded tonight’s efforts. “Wonderful! Simply wonderful!” He slung his arm around my shoulders. I smiled, excepting his compliment.
“I’d like you to meet someone. My nephew. He’s a senior at you high school. Derrick Richards?” I knew him. He was the singer of How To Lie. He was ok I guess. If you were into guys like that.
“Ah, here he is. Derrick this is Monet. Monet this--” “I know who she is uncle Teddy. I go to school with her, remember? My girlfriend’s in her biology class. Of course. “Well, anyways, Monet, I thought with you being new here and all, that you might wanna meet How To Lie. Derrick why don’t you--” “No that’s ok. I have plans tonight I really can’t miss.” He nodded and walked away somewhere with Derrick.
Her ten seconds were almost over, but not completely. She was returning to her side of the stage when her foot got caught in the cord running from the mic to wherever. She yanked her foot out and tripped making the cord around my leg tighten and cause me to fall. On my butt. In front of everyone.
It took us a while to recover from that. We untangled ourselves and stood back up. Imogene was able to pick up instantly from where she left off unlike me who was totally lost and didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where in the song I was, so I decided then that the rest could be a solo. Thomas and Imogene didn’t mine. Adrian probably didn’t even notice. The crowd didn’t mind. Much.
I headed backstage and waited for the rest to finish. I tried to sit down, but it hurt to angle my back that way. I just stood. Something involving my tailbone. Once they were done, they joined me back here. I took a swallow of water when Imogene tried to sit down. It hurt her to. I tried not to laugh. Or choke on the water.
“Damn! That fall really did a number on my ass.” Imogene whined. “Aw, does your butt hurt babe?” Adrian pouted, patting her bum. “Hands off!” She exclaimed. He raised his brow suggestively. “Feisty. I like that.” I rolled my eyes. “Are you like mentally-ill or something. You’re into dudes, remember?” Thomas shook his head and tended to his guitar. “Yeah, babe, and you’re the reason why.” I wasn’t saying anything for this argument.
“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Thomas asked. “I don’t know. I think August is coming over so nothing much.” I answered. The owner of the club peaked at us from behind the wall and applauded tonight’s efforts. “Wonderful! Simply wonderful!” He slung his arm around my shoulders. I smiled, excepting his compliment.
“I’d like you to meet someone. My nephew. He’s a senior at you high school. Derrick Richards?” I knew him. He was the singer of How To Lie. He was ok I guess. If you were into guys like that.
“Ah, here he is. Derrick this is Monet. Monet this--” “I know who she is uncle Teddy. I go to school with her, remember? My girlfriend’s in her biology class. Of course. “Well, anyways, Monet, I thought with you being new here and all, that you might wanna meet How To Lie. Derrick why don’t you--” “No that’s ok. I have plans tonight I really can’t miss.” He nodded and walked away somewhere with Derrick.