Rhythm of Love

Nora's Point of View



“Bonjour, mon cheri,” a voice whispered in my ear. There was another ‘click’ and a flash caught my eyes. A smile flew onto my lips and I met the camera, allowing them at least one good photo of me. Damien, who had been standing behind me, wrapped his muscular arms around my waist. Click. Another picture gone by, taken by Noah.

“Bonjour...?” I said, before realizing I spoke more fluent Spanish than French so I added, “Como estas…?” Confusion tainted his countenance while the four other band mates laughed. Most of them had taken Spanish with me for a few years.

Damien was my step-cousin, though we morally have known each other as best friends out of habit. We were indefinitely close and peers who had attended Lakeview in either of our years often questioned if we were a couple instead of family, though this was far from the truth. The twenty year old towered above my short five feet, five inches. His dark hair hung close to is eyes and tickled his ears as he leaned in close to embrace me. Behind him, I could clearly see Noah brushing his bright blonde hair out of his own face with laughter hidden behind a Cheshire-Cat grin. Next to him, Troy and Dylan were chatting amongst themselves about song ideas to play at The Rev. Behind the group, Mitchell watched and once in awhile let out a grunt so that we were aware that he was still there.

This was the group I willingly placed myself in. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Tu, mon cheri,” Damien continued in his seductive voice most girl flaunt after and he lowered his forehead to mine, “êtes très étrange.” I blinked, confusion lighting up my whole face like a Christmas tree.

“Pardon?” I questioned, not knowing anything that he was saying. He sighed and mumbled, “You’re no fun; you should have taken French with Mitch and I.” I shrugged my shoulders and he pecked my cheek.

“If I had known I was going to need it,” I began, “then I would have taken it.” That's correct, I, Nora Matthews, had lived in Paris since three years ago.

It was a late night a few days before our leave when my family got a call. It was out of country so we believed it was a prank call or a scam. However, as the answering machine began, an older woman’s voice came on shouting, “Bonjour! Hello! Anyone home! I’m not hanging up until someone answers this damn thing! The point of a telephone is to answer it not let some poor person who really needs to talk to you all babble on and on and on! Why, in my days, I –” She was cut off and I could hear my mother talking in an ecstatic voice to whoever the lady was. A while later we found out that it was my Memere’s older sister who lived and had a business in France. She was calling to invite us to stay with her and her family! Not only was this a chance of a lifetime to see a foreign country, but they’re also the founders of a well-known clinic that I would hopefully be able to assist in. All in all, the idea of going seemed too perfect to be true.

It was perfect until I realized I would have to be temporarily out of the band.

Damien and I walked to his house with our fingers intertwined like a protective father leads his dazed daughter while Noah, Troy, Dylan, and Mitchell following close behind. Passing pedestrians whispered as they saw Damien and I; all people who didn’t know our actual relationship status. Behind us, Noah whispered something to the other three boys and they all chuckled.

“What was that?” Damien questioned in his oh-so-sexy voice with hidden evil concealed in it. The others grew quiet, to which I replied with a burst of laughter. They were afraid of him sometimes and it was absolutely hilarious.

Our band, Behind The Unknown, started with just Damien and Noah with Damien singing and playing a guitar while Noah drummed. As months went by Troy came along and started playing bass, then Dylan who played lead guitar instead of Damien, and lastly Mitchell who is a backup guitarist and our manager quite frankly. I came along not long later when Damien had heard me singing to myself around the house, and so began my career as their female vocalist. Mostly we do solos, but once in awhile we decide to try out doing a duet together. We only sing covers so far from bands ranging from what’s popular to older songs to songs no one has even heard of before. Basically, we’re like an “if you request it, we’ll learn it” type of basement-band.

“So, Nora,” Damien asked as we all reached his house and were downstairs in his dank basement. “What covers do you want to do? We have time for two songs, so choose wisely.” I thought for a moment, thinking through the library of songs stored in my head and a grin appeared on my pale lips.

“I know the perfect ones.”



The Rev (short for Revolution, or so I was told) was as incredible as we imaged. At least, it was wonderful to the point of how underground hideaways looked. It was dark and the only bright lights were aimed at the stage and then some backstage where usual performers had their own rooms to go to. Smoke filled the air and made it almost impossible for me to breathe, but I managed. There was a bar but I realized that it only served nonalcoholic drinks because the majority of people attending were below the age of eighteen. Everyone was packed in like sardines with some choosing to stand around the stage or sitting around either at tables or on the floors.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Damien whispered in my ear. A squeak erupted from my throat and I nearly jumped ten feet in the air from the sudden whisper. However, if I had done that, my head would have smashed through the wooden ceiling. They’d probably laugh at me and spin me around while I was stuck there. Hah, I’d be like a disco ball.

Wonderful. I nodded my head toward my cousin and stifled a cough. Be that it was from the smoke or the image of me spinning around from the ceiling, I wasn’t sure.

“We’re first, right?” I questioned, looking at the guys.

“Yeah,” Noah said. “So you and Damien have to get backstage to get dressed up.” I nodded and Damien grabbed my hand; towing me backstage. Waiting for me was a black dress, black lace arm warmers, strappy shoes, and a black crown-looking hat. I smiled, knowing I was going to look just like Kerli. When I finished dressing, I walked around and bumped into Damien, who’s apparel was similar to that Johnny Depp had wore when he played the Mad Hatter in Alice and Wonderland. We smiled at each other as we heard an announcer introducing our band and Damien went running out alone, for I had to wait until I came on in our duet cover of the song Strange by Kerli and Tokio Hotel. And as the guitar started, I knew this would be one hell of a night.

“A freak of nature,” Damien began, his voice much different then Bill Kaulitz but great all the same. “Stuck in reality. I don’t fit the picture; I’m not what you want me to be. Sorry.” Saliva slid down my dry throat as I emerged from behind the curtains. Bright lights blinded me from seeing who was out in the audience and for a split second I could imagine being back in the basement of Damien’s house. However, clapping erupted from more than just my family and I was pulled back to reality.

“Under the radar, out of the system,” Damien and I sang, and he turned his head to look at me with a grin on his lips. He gave me courage; they all gave me strength. “Caught in the spotlight, that’s my existence. You want me to change, but all I feel is strange!”

This was such a familiar feeling, being up on stage with Damien and the others. It had been so long ago, but the memories of three years before flooded my mind when I had first sang this exact song on the day I left.