The Life of a Rock Goddess

I can remember when life seemed to move at a pretty normal rate. I studied, worked hard and hung around with my friends like every other day.

"Damn it!"

The loud shouted curse echoes through the house followed by the thud of Mel's music binder hitting the wall. If there was one thing Mel Cummings hated over all other things, it was the sudden disappearance of her musical muses. The ebony-haired, hazel-eyed young woman sat cross legged on the middle of her bed, crumbled balls of paper thrown across her carpeted floor. Huffing inwardly at the lack of inspiration, Mel hops off her bed, knowing she had to get out of the house for a bit.

Being a native of Long Island, New York, Mel enjoyed the slightly quiet, peaceful life she lived in Huntington Beach, California. Granted, she did live nearly an hour away from her school, but she always wanted to live in a beach-front house.

Tossing on a vintage Sex Pistols t-shirt and a pair of almost-neon-green skinny jeans, Mel pulls her long hair up in a messy ponytail, not bothering to pull the last inches out from hair tie. Hooking the silver chain to her wallet to the belt loops of her pants, she grabs her sunglasses before leaving her bedroom with the slam of a door.

"Who pissed in your Cheerios?" the voice of Hartley Jaspers greets her as she enters the kitchen with her usual snark.

Mel quirks an eyebrow at her friend and fellow schoolmate, "I don't even eat Cheerios, smart ass."

Hartley is a person people seem to love to hate, and hate to love all the same. She's beautiful, talented and relatively smart, and as such has no problem letting people know it. Even so, Hartley is a good person and an even better friend.

"Ah, come on, Mel. What's eating ya?" Hartley asks as Mel takes one of the keys off of the hook mounted on the kitchen wall.

"I can't think of anything for my composition that's due in a week. It's starting to piss me off," Mel responds with a sigh.

Hartley nods in understanding. Attending the American Music and Dramatic Academy isn't an easy college. The rewards were great, but the classes could be difficult. Mel sighs once again, twirling the set of keys on her index finger, a sign of her growing irritation.

"I'm going to head out for a bit. I'll be back mid-afternoon," the ebony-haired young woman states as she heads out of the kitchen.

Deciding to clear her head, Mel chooses to walk instead of drive and lights up a cigarette as she makes her way down the sidewalk. Most would consider her crazy for wanting to walk around, but walking not only allowed her to clear her head, but also allowed her a chance to people-watch. Mel had always been observant, noticing the smallest details. Just because she preferred the Performing Arts, she had also been talented in sketching. Reading people gave her insight on their lives and in-turn gave her inspiration for her music.

Twenty minutes of walking, a chime sounds as Mel enters her favorite corner coffee house. She liked small coffee houses like this one. The customers were regular faces and the baristas always greeted them with warm welcomes. Walking up to the counter, Mel is greeted by a bright smile of a familiar barista.

"Hey Mel. Your usual?"

Mel grins at the young woman, "Of course. Can you put a double shot of caramel?"

"Bad day?"

A grimace appears on Mel's face, "Gah. You have no idea."

"I have a break coming up in about five minutes. I'll come keep you company."

Exchanging money for her coffee, Mel nods with a grin at her, "Thank Ryo."

"Sore wa mondai dewa nai," the ebony-haired barista replies in her native tongue.

Ah, the lovely Ryoko Shimuzi. Over protective and always caring, though most would not see this. She has a habit of being a...bitch actually. Though, once considered a friend, you are a friend for life (unless a great betrayal is made).

Finding her usual booth empty, Mel takes a seat and sips her coffee. Pondering over her latest lack of inspiration, her hazel gaze moves over the customers. She can see the stress lines along the brow of a man standing in line (obviously an unappreciated business man). She notes the gaggle of women sitting at a round table (most likely gossiping over their dwindling love lives). A couple of high school students sit at their own table, giggling wildly most likely gossiping as well (but instead of love lives, their conversations probably consisted of more mundane topics).

"Ano ne," the familiar accented-drawl pulls Mel's attention away from a frazzled woman standing in the line (obviously a single mother of a child, or more from the looks of it).

Almond-shaped light brown eyes stares back at Mel as another cup of coffee is set in front of her. Realizing she had, in fact, finished her first cup, Mel gives a small thankful smile, "So, what has you so irritated today, Senritsu?"

"I'm still lacking any idea for my composition that's due at the end of the week," Mel recounts with a sigh.

"Shimatta. Really nothing? You usually don't struggle with writing a new music piece," Ryoko comments before she sip her own coffee.

"I know. I just...I feel like I've written about so much already, I kind of want something new to write about," Mel states, running her fingers through her fringed bangs.

"Shinpai shinai de, Senritsu, you're talented. You'll figure something out," Ryoko sympathizes, before asking, "How is Shinzoo doing ever since her break up with that baka, Adams?"

Mel smiles softly, "You know Hartley. She bounces back from that kind of thing pretty quickly. I think her pride was wounded more than anything else."

The two friends continue their conversation, topics ranging from general focal points to music to a few upcoming shows/concerts the trio of friends were looking forward to. Before long, Ryoko's break was over and Mel had a third steaming cup of coffee in a disposable cup. Saying goodbye to her friend and fellow housemate, Mel exits the coffee house. As her thoughts turn inward, Mel contemplates different ideas for a new song. Maybe, instead of using other people's lives as inspiration, she could take something from her own life.

See, most of the time, I see other people struggle through everyday life and I use that as a way to express empathy for their problems. At the time, I tried to stay away from sensitive topics of my home life. I didn't grow up in a bad one, but there were times when I wished life could just pause and rewind itself.

With her thoughts traveling one hundred miles a second, Mel never notices the oncoming pedestrian. Before she reacts, her back is on the concrete sidewalk, her Sex Pistols top sticking to her stomach with a extremely moist, and extremely hot substance. Realizing she bumped into someone, she moves to her feet, and her curses turn inward at the sight of the young man wiping the front of his Iron Maiden shirt.

Now, I'm a pretty easy-going person, but for some reason, I become introvert when it comes to speaking to guys. The girls find this amusing, but I however feel like a complete idiot at times. If I'm not stuttering, I'm speaking words faster than the speed of light in a mesh-up of run-on sentences and rarely a pause for breathing.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, that's hot!"

Mel swallows the nervous lump in her throat at the sight of his wringing his wet hand, hazel-gold eyes gleaming with annoyance, and before she knew it, her voice was rambling, "Oh my God. I am so sorry. See I have this issue where my brain seems to be focused on one-hundred and one things, and not one of them is focused on my current surroundings. Usually my friends keep me from walking into people, or walls, or doors, or poles, so I don't really thi-"

Two hands raise, waving off her rambling apology, "Don't worry about it. I wasn't exactly watching where I was going either. Anyone ever tell you, you talk fast."

Her words swallow in her throat and her hazel eyes widening, "Uh...um...right," Mel is mortified as a sudden heat spreads across her cheeks, her hand moving to rub the back of her neck sheepishly, "Well...um...I'm sorry again."

Nodding, Mel steps around the young man and practically dashes around the corner. Groaning inwardly at her shot nerves, Mel shakes her arms, trying to remove the nervous tension along her muscles. Deciding to check out some new music, Mel makes her way to her favorite underground music store.

"Cummings!"

"Baxter!" Mel greets the Punk-Rocker standing behind the counter.

The tall, slightly bulky man, Liam Baxter, was one of Mel's favorite people. The older man, no older than his thirties, opened the music store because he wanted to get people to recognize underground bands or new bands. Liam, or Baxter as she calls him, was one of the few guys Mel could get along with, but then again, she found this place a few weeks after moving to the West Coast. He sells not only albums from recently formed bands, but also new albums from popular Rock bands.

"Hey, I have some new albums for you to check out. I think you'll like them," Baxter states as he moves from behind the counter.

Mel can't stop the grin that spreads across her lips. Truly, a man after her own heart. Both of them connected, despite the age difference, through music, the one, truest love of their lives. Mel found her way on a sofa in a lounge area, set up for people to chat and debate their tastes while remaining comfortable.

"Some of them are new bands, and some are new albums, and I think a few foreign ones are in there too," Baxter comments as he plops onto the sofa chair across from the table.

"HER?" Mel quirks an eyebrow, looking over the cover art before flipping it over to the back.

"I did some research, and it's a Finnish band that is actually named HIM, but due to stipulations of another band owning the name, they couldn't release it under their name in the U.S.," Baxter recounts without hesitation, "Awesome lyrics, and the music and vocals are really well put together."

Mel quirks a smirk, before turning to the next album in the stack, "3 Doors Down?"

"New band that popped up in some town in Mississippi. Not your usual taste in Rock music, a bit softer sound, but the lyrics are so well put together that I think you'll like them," Baxter comments easily.

Trusting he knew of her tastes in music well enough, Mel flipped through more. She managed to pull together a pile of recent bands that have been popping up in the underground: "The Sickness" -Disturbed, "Swagger" -Flogging Molly, "Stronger Than Death" -Black Label Society, "Infest" -Papa Roach, "Half Hour of Power" -Sum 41, "L.D. 50" -Mudvayne, "Good Charlotte" -Good Charlotte, "Hybrid Theory" -Linkin Park and a few other albums. Other bands that she already knew of that put out albums ranged from Dropkick Murphy's to A Perfect Circle to Incubus.

She wasn't sure how long she had been in the store, before a familiar chime is heard from the front of the store. Cutting their debate of 'Who Rocked the Best' (That argument had been Pantera or Tool, which really, both were awesome) short, Baxter motions for her to hold on. As he saunters off toward the front of the store, Mel places the wide selection of albums on the table and reaches over, grabbing Baxter's electric guitar sitting off to the side. Making sure the amp was hooked up right, Mel removes the guitar pick from behind the strings along the neck of the guitar and sinks backwards to sprawl across the couch. Going through a list of songs in her head, she softly strums the guitar, the fingers of her left hand tracing over the strings running along the neck of the guitar.

"Cummings! Play some Ramones!"

Mel's fingers pauses for a brief moment before they slide along to the right notes. Before long, the fast, quick melody of "The Crusher" filled the speakers of the store. Softly humming the lyrics as she goes along, her foot bouncing over the arm of the chair in mid-air. A small smile forms on her lips as her fingers move along the strings, her eyes never moving from the ceiling.

"Dude, since when do they sell just the music for The Ramones?" a voice questions.

"Ha. Don't go back there. Cummings has obviously had a bad day, so the kid is trying to get rid of pent up aggression," Baxter's voice responds with ease.

Not bothering to pause for very long, Mel slide from the finish of "The Crusher" to playing "My Brain is Hanging Upside Down". She wasn't all the surprised that Baxter knew she had a bad day as she hears surprise of someone playing the music instead of it being an album of some kind. Noting the time, she decides to switch it up and began playing "Master of Puppets".

Finally after collecting the albums, and switching the guitar off, only to switch on some music over the PA system, she moves toward the front of the store. Walking to the counter, she pauses behind three guys in an animated conversation with Baxter. Swallowing, she decides to wait for the discussion to end, but it doesn't take very long for Baxter to notice her.

"You have everything?" Baxter asks.

At the question, the three guys turn around and immediately, Mel recognizes the Iron Maiden t-shirt stretched across the chest of the hazel-eyed man she had bumped into earlier in the day. A hot flush spreads across her cheeks as she sees his eyes light up in recognition and she looks away, her nerves quaking with tremors.

"Is everything alright?" Baxter asks, suddenly eyeing the three guys suspiciously.

Not wanting Baxter to get the wrong idea, Mel shakes her head, "N-no. I had one of my usual mishaps earlier and he," she points to toward the slightly familiar man, "was a victim of circumstance."

A grin forms on Baxter's lips, "Ah. So, you want me to ring that stuff up?"

"Of course," Mel shifts slightly as she catches sight of the three amused faces staring at her as she steps closer to the counter, depositing all of the albums.

"So," Mel glances over at the sound, shifting again in unease at the remarkable green eyes staring back at her, "You're the reason M. smells like coffee?" A hot flush tinges her cheeks as she gives him a jerky nod, "That's a lot of music. Catching up?"

Baxter lets out a bark of laughter, "Are you kidding? She comes here once a week and purchases a bunch of stuff only once a month. Music junkie."

Mel's lips twitch slightly in a bashful smile as she turns her gaze to the floor, but the tall, lanky guy with them laughs, "A girl after my own heart."

The sound of a fist hitting someone else breaks the blue-eyed guy's laughter, a hiss of pain, before the familiar husky voice says, "Dude, piss off. She is obviously nervous and you being a dick isn't helping."

Instead of being put off by her nerves, the tall one grins and lets out another laugh, "It's all good. So, if you only buy stuff once a month, then why do you come here once a week?"

"We debate music all the time," Baxter answers in her silence, "I still say Pantera trumps Tool."

Mel flushes at the slightly offended looks in the eyes of the three young men, and raises her hands in a defensive wave, "Hey, we were arguing over lyrical content. Don't get me wrong, Pantera is amazing, but when it comes to lyrical content, Tool beats out nearly everyone, tying up with Metallica and Dream Theater."

The rushed words that spew from her lips seems to shock the bystanders, and Baxter lets out another chuckle, shaking his head, "You, my dear, are a force to be reckoned with. Alright. Between Hammett or Petrucci?"

"Hammett," the two shorter guys of the trio state simultaneously, while the tall one seems to echo Mel's answer, "Petrucci."

The four young adults fall silent before the green-eyed guy extends his hand, "I'm Zacky. This Jolly Green Giant is Jimmy," Mel notes the tall teen was in fact dressed in an bright green t-shirt that had been torn and well-worn and thrown over a black undershirt, "and this ass you bumped into earlier today is Matt."

"Mel," she replies, tentatively shaking their hands.

"Alright, kid. Total is one-hundred-and-sixty-four dollar and forty-seven cents," Baxter comments off hand, and Mel slides out her wallet and hands him her card. "Alright, kid, I'll see you next week."

Nodding wordlessly, Mel gives the three young men a weak smile before walking out of the store. She barely had time to light up a cigarette before she heard a shouted 'Hey!'. Looking over her shoulder, she notes Matt rushing over, his two friends waiting for him.

"Baxter stated you are a music junkie," Nodding with slight confusion etched on her face, Matt continues, "Well, the guys and I are in a band and we have a gig coming up. Nothing too special, but it's next week. You should come check us out and tell us what you think."

Mel's eyes widen in slight surprise at the invitation and it seemed as though he genuinely wanted her to go to the show, "I'm not sure what I will be up to next weekend, but I'll be sure to try and catch your set. Where is it?"

After getting the club name and address from him, she watches in slightly confusion as he rushes to catch up with his friends. Watching as he rubs the back of his neck at something his friends were laughing at, she quirks a solitary eyebrow before turning on her heel and making her way home. Hours of chatting with Ryoko and Hartley, Mel climbs up the stairs to her room and slips inside. Falling back on her bed, she stares at the ceiling. It was rare that guys went out of their way to talk to her. Most would see her nervousness and just brush her off. Maybe he just wanted another ear at his show? Maybe it would be payback for dumping her coffee down the front of his shirt? Maybe they sucked and he knew it? Maybe he would stand her up?

Shaking her head, she turns over and curls up, her eyes sliding shut from the exhausting day. Just another day in the life of Mel Cummings.

That's what I thought anyway. I would have never thought a chance meeting and fumbled conversations would eventually pave the way for my future. What I thought was a normal day was in fact the day that changed everything.