First Breath After a Coma

I rolled my eyeballs for what seemed like the 50th time that night as a freakishly tall and equally boring man chatted up my best friend. But in a way I was used to it. Jasmine, or Jazz as she preferred, had to be the biggest flirt that ever roamed the earth. And the fact that she was a six foot tall platinum blonde with huge tits didn't help the situation in the least bit.

We had moved to New York City with our band to further our music careers and escape the stagnant Florida scene, though so far the only work we managed to get was waiting tables at a seedy diner. And the only gigs we'd been to were ones for other bands.

But this night's concert was different. The main act, My Chemical Romance, had heard our demo tape and extended an offer to take us on tour. Jackson, Katrina, Jazz and I, plus our new manager, Tyler, were at the show to check out their style and accept their offer.

If I had known what havoc and destruction that tour would bring to my life, I probably would never have left for it.