The Hysterics: His POW

Even though the lights were nearly off, I could feel the energy of the deafening horde growing with anticipation.  I reached down to find my fresh pair of sticks, firmly grasping them in my right hand.  Sweat was already starting to form on my brow as the adrenaline coursed through my veins.  My breath started to quicken and my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest.  Even though I have been on stage with these guys every weekend for the last four years, every gig sends this awesome feeling rushing over me and reminds me why I truly love what I do.  I lights started to brighten and the spot light lit up my front man’s face.

All of the booze filled fans screeched as Rodney started his usually introduction, “Ladies, ladies, calm down. We’re the Hysterics, and we’re here for you. Please be so kind to welcome my awesome band mates, we have Dane on the drums.” I heard my queue and let a stick twirl in the light before stomping out the base rhythm for the remainder of the band to be introduced.  Finally, the crowd erupted and we dove right into our favorite tune about the start of our band.

I scanned the crowd, looking for my newest coworker, Fallon, while watching all of our fans sing along to the lyrics.  It still thrilled me to see that people enjoyed our music this much.  Suddenly, a bright smile came from the side of the stage closest to Maverick and my heart started bounding harder.  Even being pushed around and in low light, Fallon was stunning.  She was wearing a sexy red number that showed off some of her best ink.  Her long dark hair was done in curls and she was rocking bright red lip stick.  She waved in my direction as her lips curled around the mouth of her beer bottle.  I smiled widely at her while being impressed that she wasn’t sipping a pussy pink drink.  Then my eyes widened when I caught her throwing back a shot, she didn’t notice but my jaw even dropped.

I knew virtually nothing about the new assistant editor other than she was a hot chick with sick tattoos that seemed to be pretty rough around the edges.  For the most part, I hated fraternizing with people from the e-mag but she seemed different.  Most of the girls I worked with were want-to-be-groupies that tried to use their spot at our online chronicle to sound important to rock stars.  Every time in the last few weeks that I even mentioned my band, Fallon seemed completely unimpressed and I loved it.  I was floored that she even made it and seemed to be having a great time.

Once the set was over, I started to pack up the equipment and Mav helped me get Fallon up on the stage.  She seemed pretty happy with the show and comfortable that the guys, which surprised them all.  Maybe it was that she was new to the city, but most girls from around here got a little star struck around us.  Fallon was calm while giving us compliments on our set.  She used biz words like they were common, but I shrugged them off until standing next to her at the bar.

First off, she ordered beer and whiskey, hottest thing ever. Then she called my drum set a kit, and that was it, I had to shout over the crowd’s roars, “Oh yeah,” I couldn’t help but laugh at her compliment of the DW, “She’s pretty great. You been around a lot of bands before?”  That is right when the world stopped around me. I was standing in front of Fallon Dunbar, the former drummer of Regicide Assisted, a band that had just broken up because, rumor had it, their drummer died from an overdose of coke.  She was a legend in the underground circuit and she had flown under my radar.  I decided to not let her know I figured out her alter ego and went along with sheer surprise of standing amid a girl drummer, which was cool in and of itself.

I tested my luck and was completely shot down when I asked her to come home with me.  I knew she had met too many jack ass musicians on the road and decided to not become another one.  We danced and listened to my friend’s band play a few songs when I finally was able to get her alone on the street.  I pressed my hand on the small of her back and brought her in for one hell of a kiss. Her lips were so soft and she tasted like whiskey, it was sheer magic.

As I watched her speed away in the taxi, I had a new found excitement to get through work quickly that next day.  Since the band met up for drinks after work every day, I figured it would be a nice ice breaker into a date.  I wasn’t really the dating type but if Miss Fallon Dunbar wanted to play all goodie toe shoes, I figured I should play along.

I made my way back over to where Colt and Rodney were standing, trying to get the attention of a tall, tattooed guy behind the bar.  Colt leaned into my ear, “Where’d the chick go.  She was hot.”  I smiled and shook my head, laughing, “She want home, playing hard to get I guess.  She’s gonna hang out with us tomorrow.”  Colt smiled devilishly while the idea of Fallon naked crossed his mind, which pissed me off, so I added, “Dude, I just made out with Fallon Dunbar.”  I yelled it loud enough for the entire club to hear it if they wanted, but Colt and Rodney were the only ones that seemed to let the greatness register.  Rodney punched my shoulder, “Fuck man, I thought she died.  If that’s really Fallon Dunbar, you better not skew up! She’s incredible.”

I smiled inwardly at how true that statement was, and I was only grazing the surface.  I relished in my discovery for the rest of the night, way too excited to sleep.  Striding into the office the next morning, I could feel my heart skip a beat when I heard Fallon’s sweet voice coming around the corner.

For Fallon’s POW please see: The Hysterics: A Short Story and for another chapter please see: The Hysterics: Her Mistake

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Posted in: Shorts: The Hysterics