Dedication Takes a Lifetime

“I am going to be sick,” I promised Kal, who’d thrown her arm out to keep me from jetting off the stage just five seconds after stepping onto it. I knew that my body wasn’t going to threw up, but my brain was doing a good job of convincing me that this was a possibility. I just wanted to run. I wanted to lock myself in my bathroom and hide out for the rest of the night, until this was all out. Damn Deveraux. Damn Jack. Damn all of these people staring up at us impatiently with curious and judgmental eyes, waiting to be impressed.

But Kal just shoved me toward the microphone, slipping the guitar I’d rented from Mitch over her shoulder, strumming a few chords, satisfied to find that Jack had already tuned it. “Annette, we don’t have time for this. Just…” she leveled me in her gaze, kind blue eyes serious on mine, “Breathe. And remember why we’re here.”

“Not for the money and the fame,” Jocelyn said over my shoulder, circling around to the drums.

“Not to spite Alex Gaskarth,” Kal added, and I flinched.

“We’re here,” Deveraux concluded, making me wonder if they’d rehearsed this cheesy pep talk, “For the love and dedication.”

I sighed, knowing they were right, and took a few shaky steps up to the mic. Jack gave us a thumbs up from the soundboard, signifying that he’d taken it upon himself to do sound check himself, and there was no stalling. I bit my lip and tilted my head to look at Kal, gulping and shaking my head furiously. She took my hint and stepped up to her own microphone.

“Hey everyone,” she said in her typical carefree fashion, throwing an arm up to wave at the crowd, “How y’all feelin’? Feelin’ good?” They all cheered, probably more out of intoxication than anything. She smiled and adjusted her mic with her strumming hand, “All right! We’re…well, fuck me, we don’t have a name yet, do we?” Deveraux shook his head with mock sadness, but eyes sparkling with excitement. “Well, shit,” she laughed, and the crowd laughed with us, “Just call us the No Name Jackasses for now and let our music do the talkin’, all right? This is our debut!” She took a step back from the mic and immediately slammed her hand down against her strings, launching straight into the intro of our Paramore cover.

I recited the lyrics in my head as Deveraux and Jocelyn joined in, but they were quickly smothered by the millions of other thoughts racing through during the twelve second intro. Would they love it? Would they hate it? Would I forget the words? Would my voice break? What if someone forget the chords or the beat? Did Jack get all the sound settings right? If the crowd booed us, how would I react? Was I really going to throw up now? What was the first line to the song? The second? Third?! Shit, what were the lyrics?!

Not bad, but, the words echoed in my mind, Not something I think could ever get you anywhere. What if Alex had been right?

But what if Tomas was right? They’ll be waiting for you to fall on your face, but you have to push through it because it’s what you want.

And then, everything went silent in that brief space of time, and I heard, Just sing, from a voice I hadn’t heard in years. Just open up your damn mouth and sing.

So I took a breath.

And I opened my mouth.

“I’m in the business of misery; let’s take it from the top
She’s got a body like an hour glass that’s tickin’ like a clock
It’s a matter of time before we all run out
When I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth”

I was stunned with how comfortable I felt all of the sudden, and even more delighted to see people in the audience bobbing their heads and throwing their hands up, mouthing the words to the popular song. I glanced at Kal and she smiled as she harmonized with me.

“I waited eight long months; she finally set him free
I told him I couldn’t lie; he was the only one for me
Two weeks and we had caught on fire
She’s got it out for me, but I wear the biggest smile”

Feeling daring and hardly thinking, I yanked the microphone from the stand and trotted over to Deveraux as he joined in for the chorus.

“Whoa, I never meant to brag, but I got him where I want him now
Whoa, it was never my intention to brag; to steal it all away from you now
But god, does it feel so good, ‘cause I got him where I want him now
And if you could, then you know you would, ‘cause god it just feels so”

I flipped my hand to the audience, inviting them to join me for the last line, because it truly summed up how I was feeling now.

“It just feels so good”

By the time we finished the first song, we all already had a thin layer of sweat over our skin, were breathing hard, and couldn’t stop smiling. I threw my arms around Deveraux, hugging him tightly, and he returned it with crazy laughter, before nudging me back to center stage. “Okay,” I panted into the microphone, “That was ‘Misery Business,’ as if you didn’t already know.” I swiped my hand across my forehead and smiled, “This one is a little less well known, but equally amazing. ‘Hush,’ by Automatic Loveletter.”

I took a step back as my band mates swapped out their instruments, Kal taking up an acoustic guitar and plucking out the chords she’d translated from the original piano music, and Deveraux taking up his acoustic bass. They played as I came in softly, picking up with as much emotion as I could muster when the chorus hit.

“H-h-h-hush; color my eyes red
Your love’s not alive; it’s dead
This letter’s written itself inside out again
When rivers turn to roads and lovers become trends, oh
H-h-h-hush; this is where it ends”

We played covers for the rest of the first half of the set--including Grace Potter & the Nocturnals, Matthew Good Band, A Perfect Circle, and The Academy Is…--before taking a break in the middle to collect ourselves. We slipped away quickly, barricading ourselves in the downstairs guest room so that no one could get to us and give us their opinion. We still had four more songs to sing; we didn’t need to be swayed from our current high.

Deveraux gulped down an entire water bottle, bouncing around like a hyper puppy, “This is so epic, guys! I mean, seriously?! Did you see that crowd? They were, like…” he smacked himself in the head, at a loss for words, “They couldn’t get enough of it!”

“We are definitely killing it,” Jocelyn agreed, playfully tackling Deveraux into the sleeping bags they’d set up on the floor for the duration of their stay. Wow. You knew things were good when Jocelyn Cheshire was acting like Jack Barakat.

Kal unscrewed the lid to her water bottle and took a dainty sip, nodding in agreement. I took a few gulps of my own drink and sighed, “This is so surreal. And amazing. But,” I raised my eyebrows, “The next four songs are going to be harder; it’s all of our originals. This is where we find out if these people really like our music, and not just our version of other peoples’ music.”

“You’re such a buzz kill,” Kal whacked me with her bottle playfully, then nodded, “But you’re right. These are our lyrics and our music; this is us. And we’re about to see if they really like us.” We all fell silent, drinking the rest of our waters and then walking back to the stage, where the audience eagerly waited.

I say eagerly because they immediately burst into applause when we took our places.

That felt good, at least.

“So,” Kal said to them, all smiles again, “Havin’ a fuckin’ good time?” They all cheered. In the back, I could see my parents cringe at the foul language and Tomas laugh at their expressions. “Good goddamn and mercy me,” Kal laughed, retuning the electric guitar, “Sounds like a ‘yes’ to me. Deveraux?”

“More like a ‘hell fuckin’ yes,’ I think,” he said into his microphone, laughing, “You guys are amazing, you know that? I’d like to stick you guys in my pocket and take you with me everywhere.” He paused for a second, scratching his head, then shrugged, “You can take that sexually, if you want to; I don’t mind.”

Laughter broke out, some of it coming from me. My confidence somewhat restored, I wrapped my hands around the mic stand and addressed the crowd, “So we’re gonna finish this show up with four originals, and we really hope you like them. This first one is one that Kal,” I pointed to her, “And I wrote together; it’s called ‘Stranger Things Have Happened (But At Least Then I Had An Umbrella).’ Enjoy!”

The guitarist started playing the upbeat music she and the other three had come up with just three weeks before, and I nodded my head to the beat. I felt my heart thump as Jocelyn joined in on the drums; I loved the drums in this song, and I don’t care how big of a faux pas it is to love one of your own songs.

“Love you, hate you, pack your shit
And get out of my head
Want you, fuck you, take a hint
Its better just instead to pretend this ain’t happenin’
Pretend you ain’t gettin’ to me
‘Cause I’m so far from this type of girl”

I stepped back as Kal stepped up, taking the second part of the verse. I would admit that she needed a couple more years of vocal training to reach her full potential, but I wouldn’t dare deny that she was a talented singer, and could hold her own onstage.

“Love you, hate you, take that line
And waste it somewhere else
Want you, fuck you, I’m just fine
To put it on the shelf and pretend you don’t exist
Pretend I haven’t been waiting for this
‘Cause I never wanted to be this girl
But kill me, ‘cause pigs are flying
It’s pointless to deny that I’m
Falling into it, falling into something I can’t quantify”

I laughed as she made a face, having originally objected to my use of the world “quantify,” but singing it anyway. I picked up my part dutifully.

“Kill me too, ‘cause I know how you feel
And if it’s real, it means I’m helpless
Falling into it, falling into some silly boy’s brown eyes”

It was funny that we were singing the lines that the other person had written, and even funnier that it took me this long to realize that Kal’s lyrics were about the very same silly, brown-eyed boy who was smiling goofily at us from side stage. Oh, Kalila; how very smitten we are.

We finished the rest of our set and then stepped off the stage with several bows and “thank you, thank you”s, and then nervousness set in again. There was nowhere else to go but into the crowd of people that was migrating back inside, and I braced myself for whatever they were about to say.

As soon as I reached the kitchen, someone clapped me on the back. I turned and saw a girl from my Senior Composition class staring with wide, awed eyes. “That was amazing, girl! You know, we’ve gone to school together for two years and I never would have expected that from you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of scrap paper, “Do you guys have a MySpace or something, so that I know when all your upcoming shows are?”

I felt my jaw drop; was this a true-blue fan? MySpace? Upcoming shows? What?!

“Uh, uh,” I recovered quickly, “Um, no, not yet. But if you give me your e-mail address I can definitely start a newsletter or something. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect!” She scribbled the information down and handed it to me, giving me a wave before wandering off toward the bar. More people stopped briefly to tell me they enjoyed the show, and I slowly began collecting e-mail addresses and making promises to keep people updated. Oh god, this meant we were actually going to have to book more shows. And then play more shows. The feeling of having to vomit returned again. But I couldn’t think about that now.

Nearly half an hour later, Jack fought his way through the crowd that had somehow engulfed me and started throwing questions and compliments at me, and he threw his arms around me, lifting me off the ground. “Nettie, that was a-fucking-mazing!” He gave me a peck on the cheek, “You sounded so great; it gave me goosebumps!” He raised his sleeve, but I saw nothing and he grinned sheepishly, “Well they’re gone now, obviously, but they were there. Scouts honor!”

I laughed, “I believe you.”

“Excuse me,” a girl stepped closer to me and smiled. She was cute--short with delicate features and cherry red hair that swirled around her shoulders and green eyes that put emeralds to shame--and she was holding her cell phone in one hand while the second shot out for me to shake. “I’m Madison Laurie.”

I shook her hand politely, “Annette Vader. Do you go to my school?”

She shook her head, “No, no; I’m a Freshman at Beloit University, actually.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “My boyfriend is a Senior at Camellia and insisted I come to this party tonight, and I’m glad I did. Your first original was fun, but it also held a lot of meaning. I’ve,” she shrugged, “I’ve been in that situation before. You know, falling in love at the wrong time, with the wrong person; I related to it a lot, actually.”

“Thank you!” I told her with a huge smile, “You have no idea how good it is to hear that; we were hoping it was something that most people could relate to on some level.”

Madison chuckled and then waved her cell phone at me for a moment, “Well anyway, I really wanted to talk to you about my uncle.”

“Your uncle…”

“Yes,” she nodded, “His name is Davison Laurie, and he owns Ol’ Doggie; have you heard of it?” I nodded; Ol’ Doggie was a little dive bar downtown. “Well,” she continued, “I know it’s not the most impressive of venues, but he is looking for some new talent to play a few shows. I was texting him the entire time you were playing and he trusts my taste in music absolutely, so you’ve got a slot there if you want it.”

Apparently I was gaping at her, because she blushed a little, as if she thought she’d overstepped. Finally, I composed myself and laughed breathlessly, “Are you kidding me? That would be fantastic! Could I get his number from you?” She agreed, letting me copy the number from her phone to mine.

“I am so excited,” she said with a tiny, cute squeal. “I will definitely drive from Beloit to see you guys play again. Say,” she pointed to me, “Does your band have a MySpace or something?”