La Vie En Rose

The whole time at dinner, I was mentally going through my wardrobe, anticipating what I should wear to this show. Would high-heels be too much? Would a dress be a little over the top? I silently shunned myself for not going to enough shows back in New York. I bet Alma would know what to wear. Good thing her phone had zero service for the next week because she’s visiting her grandma somewhere in the wilderness of Washington state.

The minute Lola and I finished our meals, we practically raced up the stairs. I don’t know what was wrong with me or what has taken over me. I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve mulled over the fact that I haven’t been interested in a guy in a while. It’s not like I didn’t want to look for someone, I just didn’t have time. Back in the city, I’m constantly working, taking cabs on several laps around upper and lower Manhattan, visiting clients who want to wear my designs, taking classes...I don’t get a chance to even glance in the opposite sex’s direction - unless they’re gay which is very common in the field I’m playing in. And besides, this John guy, he left me wanting more. I felt a sudden urge to wanting to impress him, to get to know him better.

God, the fact that I haven’t dated in over a year and a half was stressing me out. What if I lost my touch with men? I used to have powerful confidence when it came to the opposite sex but now...I wasn’t so sure.

As I carefully leafed through my closet, I asked Lola questions about this so-called ‘band’ of theirs that we were seeing.

“They’re called ‘The Maine’” Lola called from her bedroom, “They’re not bad! When Ross told me about them, I went into heavy lurk mode on the internet.”

I spotted my Ivory-colored skirt that had a lush lace overlay. The minute I pulled it out, I smiled. Perfect.

“So what, are they a local band?” I asked loudly so Lo could hear me.

“Well,” She was now standing in the bathroom doorway, clad in a pair of jeans and her black Victoria’s Secret bra. She spoke while she hung on her loop earrings, “when I googled them, I found out that they’re getting signed to a really great label. And they’re releasing a new CD soon. Apparently they have like, a really big following. They’re in that transition of being a local band to an actual well-know band.”

“Wow.” I said as I pulled out a light salmon-colored tank top, “Good work. You deserve a lurker award.”

“Thanks!” She responded, “I like to troll in my spare time. Are you wearing those pink ballet flats with that?”

I held up the skirt and tank top, biting my lip, “Yeah, I was thinking about it. Is it too much?”

She shook her head, “No, it’s casual. I’m wearing these with a white tank and my navy blazer. If we’re overdressed, at least we’ll look good doing it.”

I chuckled as she turned back into her bedroom. I quickly changed into my outfit and looked in the mirror, adjusting the tucked-in top and smoothing out the creases.

“So I have a question.” I called as I walked into the bathroom and tying up my hair into a loose, messy ponytail, “What does John play?”

“Nothing.” Lola answered, joining me in the bathroom, “He sings.”

Before I could comment on how absolutely BEAUTIFUL that was, our mom interrupted me.

“Knock, knock” She sang, now leaning on the door frame, “Where are you pretty girlies going?”

“A concert.” Lola answered her, “Ross and John across the street invited us. It’s John’s band.”

My mother’s face lit up, “Oh John O’Callaghan! I see him walking his dog past our house sometimes. His parents are just lovely.”

“Ross is nice too!” Lola said in his defense. I smiled and continued putting on mascara.

“Well anyways, don’t come home too late now, you hear?” She stood up straight again, “Don’t forget your house key either. I’m going to go tuck Cole into bed with a movie. I’ll see you girls in the morning.”

“Kay!” Lola and I said in unison.

“And be careful!” My mom added as she walked out.

When we got to the venue, I instantly felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone here was either a pre-teen or a mother.

“Huh” My sister sniffed, “Wasn’t expecting the crowd to be this big.”

I wasn’t either. People were piling into the tiny ‘Ray club’. Would we even be able to get in? Little girls were flying past us, wearing their band merch and cameras at the ready.

“Come on” My sister ushered, pulling my elbow.

The interior of the place was definitely not surprising. It looked just as sketchy inside as it did outside. There was just one big room, a stage on one side and a tiny little bar on the other. The walls were covered in a red velvet fabric, holding small wall lights. The general area was very feebly lit and had a musky smell to it. Groups of girls were already finding their spot in front of the stage while a couple of strays went over to a make-shift merch area.

“Let’s go sit by the bar,” Lola suggested, nodding her head towards the bartender, “they don’t go on for another 10 minutes.”

We found some empty barstools and took in the atmosphere around us. I think we were both surprised about the outcome of the show. So many girls were walking around with shirts saying “THE MAINE” on them and holding posters and CD’s. I feel like I just walked in on a Justin Bieber secret show or something. It was clear that all these people were dedicated fans. I almost felt bad for not knowing any of their songs. Now it just felt strange to think that I was talking to the band members on the curb in front of my house a couple of hours ago.

Lola finally spotted Ross walking around and flagged him down.

“They’re about to go on!” He exclaimed excitedly as he leaned on the bar next to Lola, “You’ve never seen them live before, have you?”

“No.” My sister responded feebly, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind her hair. This was too hard to watch.

“I think you’ll enjoy them” He smiled, “By the way, you look great.”

Awesome, now I just feel like a third wheel. Fantastic. I turned around in my stool and ordered a Dr. Pepper.

Just when I received my drink, the lights went out and ear-piercing screamed erupted in the venue. At first, I was under the impression that we were being under attack by God knows what, but when I saw the silhouettes of individuals and their guitars walk out on stage, I realized it was time for them to play.

The lights above the stage illuminated the set nobly as Ross, Lola and myself moved closer. I recognized Garrett and Kennedy from earlier on the guitars, plus a red-head on the bass and another unfamiliar guy behind the drum set but where was John?

As the music started playing, one more person ran up on stage - the screams got louder, if that was even possible - and raised his arms in the air.

“Heeeellloooooo Phoenix!” He yelled, grabbing the mike, “This song is called ‘Count ‘em One, Two, Three’!”

Oh. There he is.

I sipped on my Dr. Pepper as I watched with curiosity. The batch of girls in front of us were screaming the lyrics along, knowing every single word. I was impressed, to say the least.

As the set went on, I couldn’t take my eyes off of John. He changed his clothes since the last time I saw him. He was now wearing a maroon plaid shirt - what is with guys in Arizona and their plaid? - that had the first couple of buttons unbuttoned to reveal the white wife-beater he was wearing under it. I now understand why all the girls up front are screaming so loudly.

When The Maine preformed a song called ‘The Town’s Been Talkin’’, I was just about finished with my drink and I was thirsty enough for another one. It was starting to get hot in here. But just as I was going to move back to the bar, I locked eyes with John. Now, don’t get me wrong, that would be impossible because it was almost pitch black in here and I was standing in the back but my God, he was starring right at me.

“Baby, my ears are open,” He sang into the mic, “and I’m watching you”

And then he winked at me.

I was taken aback. Surely that wink wasn’t for me?

“He just winked at you.” Lola confirmed as if she read my thoughts perfectly.

“Oh good, I thought that was my imagination.” I responded, crossing my arms, “I’m getting another drink.”

After the show, the guys packed up their equipment and came back into the venue to talk to their fans and take pictures. I don’t know what I’m more amazed by: the fact that their set was actually quite enjoyable or the fact that these fans were reacting like they just met Zac Efron? Wow, I was totally out of the loop with the whole music scene.

I waited patiently with Ross and Lola, who were engrossed in some intense debate about Architecture and why it’s a popular major in this day and age. I remained quiet, finding it more amusing to watch Lola pretending that she knew what Ross was going on about.

“Alright so tell me,” Before I knew it, John was standing in front of me with his arms folded and a look of determination in his eyes, “On a scale of 1 to awful, how was our set?”

I bit my lip, pretending to think about it, “Well, what’s the number after awful?”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously before speaking, “Eleven.”

“Eleven it is then.”

“Clever.”

I shrugged and smiled innocently, “You brought up the scale, we didn’t necessarily have to go there.”

He opened his mouth to retort but was stopped short by two teenager girls. They looked about sixteen, at least.

“Excuse me?” They asked politely.

“Yes!” John stood up straight, ready to talk to his oh so endearing fans.

But for some bizarre reason, they looked at me.

“We were just wondering if you were...Gigi King?” The shy girl asked.

My eyes widened with complete shock. Excuse me!? Were they some girls I babysat when I used to live in Tempe or something? Maybe I went to high school with them? But they would of been too young. I looked over at John, who looked almost as surprised as me. His eye brows were raised.

“Uh, yes I am, actually.” I answered before clearing my throat, “Do I kno-”

She cut me off with a triumphant squeal, “I knew it! Gigi, we are huge fans of your clothes designs! We think they are to die for! We follow you on your twitter and read your website daily! Wow, is it really true you turned down a position on Marc Jacob’s entourage?”

I was speechless. I had fans in Arizona? Better yet, people knew who Marc Jacobs was here? I was so bewildered by this whole situation.

“Um wow!” I exclaimed, smiling at them, “I wasn’t expecting that, to be honest! I’m really flattered, thank you so much. I actually did turn down Marc’s offer but there were no hard feelings, thankfully.”

I noticed John was watching with amusement now.

“You seriously inspire us so much!” She then looked at my outfit, “And wow, cute outfit! Can we get your autograph?”

I’ve never been asked for my autograph before. Someone, quick, get me a new pair of underwear!

I obliged and carefully signed my name (and a smiley face - what else was I suppose to put?) on a piece of paper they handed me and thanked them again before they stalked off.

“Well” John started, “I wasn’t aware I was in the presence of a celebrity?”

I scoffed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Well my ego is definitely bruised.” He responded, “Here I was thinking they wanted to talk to me. Am I arrogant or what?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” I asked.

He looked at me with shock. I just grinned back.

“Hey G!” Lola called. She was now with the rest of the band, standing by the merch table, “We’re all going to go to Taco Bell! Get over here!”