Drunk On You

"How're ya'll doin' tonight?"

Cheers erupted from the crowded bar. The shabby hole-in-the-wall establishment was clearly pushing its occupancy limit, much to the owner's delight. Groups of college-aged young adults to teenagers still in highschool made up the demographic of the crowd, with the fans suddenly pushing forward. The bar didn't look like it could really handle this kind of crowd, and the stage was simply a two foot platform set up opposite from the bar. But who was the Anchors to complain?

They weren't exactly a band that was considered a household name, but one wouldn't be able tell that if they were to judge by the enthusiasm of patrons of Bar None (which was a rather poorly named little dive bar tucked into the streets of the music district in Austin, Texas).

Despite their obvious lack of mainstream attention, or even a record label, the members of Anchors had traveled from state to state for the past three years to try a build a following. It hadn't been easy, either. Members had come and gone, their sound had several drastic overhauls, even their name had changed countless times before they'd finally found the perfect fit.

In the past three years, there had only been two constants in the band's life; Delaney Rae and her determination to make Anchors get somewhere.

Anchors had been the dream she'd never realized she'd had, but one she was determined to make happen. She wasn't that soft-spoken little country bumpkin she'd been when Ben Walsh stumbled across her on the quad. Delaney had grown into this confident, powerhouse of a front woman with a vicarious personality and a backbone she'd never possessed before.

It was Ben who had brought this all out in little Delaney, and it was because of the overly enthusiastic music major that she'd been sucked into this world so much different than the one she'd grown up in. Ben opened Delaney's eyes to all sorts of people and new experiences. He often dubbed himself her fairy god-mother, and together with his boyfriend, Marcus, he had introduced little Delaney to everything from thrift shopping, to Chinese food, to Pilates, to punk music, to clubbing, to everything else they'd decided that every college student needed to know.

But it was music that had really brought Ben and Delaney closer. They bonded over their obviously difference in tastes, and Delaney soaked up all of the different genres and bands Ben installed onto her laptop. Delaney had been raised on the soulful, story-telling ways of classic country while Ben had always preferred the harder beats of rock and punk. They progressed from sharing their favorite artists and songs to sharing their original works with one another, offering critiques and suggestions until they realized that together - they made a great team.

It was then that Anchors had been born.

At first, it was just the pair of them - each on acoustic guitar with Ben performing the lead vocals. Two months later, they rounded out a full band with Ben's other roommate, Tony, on drums and some random other music major, Kenneth, on bass. One crappy van, several flat tires, consistent lineup changes, and two years later - Anchors was where they finally needed to be and their future was looking bright.

Overall, they boasted an upbeat pop-punk style with several classic rock influences. Delaney's deep country roots showed in her story-telling style of writing lyrics, with the specific kind of control and vocal stylings that came from years of crooning Reba and Martina. They had a unique sound that drew the people in, and put on a power house of performance that locked them in as fans.

They showed more than just promise or potential - Anchors was a band that was going to make it.

"Now that's the kind of greetin' I like to hear," Delaney smiled out into the crowd.

She stood at center stage as the rest of her band prepared for their short set, pulling the microphone into one hand as the other rested on its stand.

Gone was that innocent, naïve little girl John-Luke had sent off to Nashville. In her place was an alluring, confident, sexy young woman whose devilish grin and multiple body modifications would sent her father into an early grave.

Black curls, clearly dyed, fell over one shoulder carelessly with the other side pinned back sharply behind one ear to expose triple pierced ears with the first being stretched. One strap of her over-sized tank fell down her shoulder, showing off a bright pink bandeau underneath and exposing a bit of her side tattoo. Cut-off denim shorts and soft brown cowboy boots served as the only homage to country roots, which suited Delaney just fine.

She pushed away from the stand, offering the crowd a bright smile and an easy wink before speaking once more,

"We're Anchors and this song's called Dignified!"

It was rather dramatic the way the lights suddenly faded out, only the silhouettes for the band visible before Marcus started the set off with a heavy bass beat and Kirk followed quickly on the drums.

Towards the back of the venue, seated at the bar was a middle-aged man named Greg Steel. It was quite obvious how out of place he was in the bar. It wasn't so much his attire that singled him out, as it was his age and his complete concentration when it came to observing the band on-stage. He watched the set with an expression of trained detachment, holding onto a draft but never taking a sip. Occasionally he'd take video or pictures with his smart phone. It wasn't until the end of the set that he changed expression, watching as kids forced their way to the merchandise table in order to try and meet the sweaty members of the band who'd just brought the house down.

"Tom?" The man spoke into his phone, suddenly weaving his way through the crowd and towards the exit. "You were right. She's great. They're great."

He paused, eyes glancing back to the band.

"No. No need to send an A&R rep out. I'm signing them myself."