The Club Is Open Until 8:00Pm

I was sitting on the chair beside the phone table. A whole table dedicated the phone base. Wow, very amazing. Tugging at one of the loose threads in the seams of my jeans, I waited for Steve to finish getting ready to take me to the club. Our show was tonight. I was ready, wearing a pair of light blue jeans and boots. My old The Used hoodie pulled way down past my waist. Yeah it was a little to big for me, but who cares I’ll grow into it.

Steve finally came down, adjusting his button down shirt and throwing a light jacket over it. “Are you ready?” I nodded. Near the door he grabbed both our coats and handed me mine. When he wasn’t looking, I placed mine back on the rack and followed him to the mini van. When I sat in the back seat, he glanced at me in the mirror and still, I wasn’t sure if he had noticed me without a coat or not.

I searched m pockets for my card. My backstage pass if you will. Even though we had played at Club Neon before, the guys protecting the backdoor didn’t know slash remember our faces so we still required passes to get in. It stated my Name: Monet Stevens. Age: 14, Current Band(s): Two Times Charged For Murder. Position: Lead Vocalist. Technically needed guitarist could be added and Past Band(s): (None). There were a lot of past bands on Imogene’s card.

Also in my pocket was one of the red mini guns that went to one of the mcr action figures or excuse me, dolls as Steve liked to put it. Not dolls. To cool looking to be dolls.I hope Imogene will leave them at my house for a little while. I really like having them there to look at. Even if they were technically for littler kids. I’ve never really had dolls to call my own so I liked having them in my possession.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked his blue eyes adverting to the road. I shook my head, my brown eyes falling to the floorboards. People actually believe we’re related, that he was my real dad. He isn’t and I don’t know who is. I looked at the action figure’s gun. Imogene had inscribed M.W on the little side. Mikey’s gun.

Say, Mikey has brown hair and brownish eyes according to the figure. Maybe he’s my dad. Yup, the Mikey action figure who about 7inches tall is my dad. Now I feel special. That means the Gerard one is my uncle. If they were indeed brothers as Imogene claims. But they don’t look like brothers. We’ll Imogene and Lizzie don’t look anything alike, so I don’t know.

Steve pulled into one of the few empty parking spaces near the backstage door so we wouldn’t have to walk far when it was over. I pulled the pass over my head and hung it around my neck so when we got to the guys, all I did was hold it up and show him and he’d let us in. I showed Steve the way to the playing band’s dressing room. He followed and glimpsed at the different people rushing around setting things up.

I walked in the dressing room and greeted Adrian who was tapping his sticks on Thomas’ guitar. “You know he doesn’t like it when you do that.” I said. He knew. He just liked doing it. Steve told me he was gonna be at the side of the side of the stage for when we came on. Imogene came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck from behind. “You ever plan on giving those figures back?” She asked, letting me go. “You said you come and take them.” She scoffed. “You know I’m to lazy to do that.” She said. Thomas walked in. “Yeah, Imogene we know.” He said. No comment.

Her jaw dropped. “I take that insult personally.” He shrugged. “But you said it.” He had a point. “I was joking, God. Can’t a person joke around here. You need a fucking sense of humor or something.” Adrian started whistling to himself. I’ll go see what he’s up to. “I thought it was funny.” He said. “You know what, you suck.” Adrian laughed. Everyday baby.” I said. Did I mention Adrian was gay. No? Well, he’s gay, but proud.

“Ewwness. Didn’t need to know that!” She turned away closing her hands over her ears. “He was joking.” I felt the need to clear that up. The stage person came by and told us we’re on in 15. 15 whole minutes to wait until we see what the audience thinks of our new song. 15 whole minutes until I get to see our really crappy backdrop. Shit, that reminds me. I was drawing(or trying to) the other day. I know I should not be allowed to have pen and paper and be bored but I came up with this new design for a backdrop thing. I mean we would eventually need a new, bigger one. Especially if we were to be playing at OTR in a couple weeks. They have a huge stage and our tiny little backdrop would look just plain pathetic against their back wall.

I was in front of my mirror. Yes I have my own mirror and it’s got lights! Doing my vocal exercises like grabbing my tongue and saying “Ghee he he.” I hated doing it cause it was utterly embarrassing but can’t sing if you don’t practice right? Thomas walked up to me and asked for a breath check. Our thing. To see if our breath smells good or not. I breathed in his face and as gross as that sounds, he shrugged and walked off. I guess it didn’t smell.

The people waiting for us was were calling our acronym. You know, much like bands with long names take on. Like Theory of a Dead Man as TOAD. Or My Chemical Romance as MCR or Fall Out Boy as FOB and Bullet For My Valentine as BFMV. Just like that. Once again, our shortened name is Two Times Charged, or simply TTC.