[A/N: Sorry it's short. Getting back into the author's chair writing this.]
We had just downed our glasses when I noticed Seth beside me. He was glaring ominously at Nikki. “Uh, good morning Seth.” I said, pulling his gaze towards me.
“Ready to go.” He said flatly, looking at Nikki all the while. I narrowed my eyes to Nikki, who sat there with his cocky smartass grin, just waiting for a confrontation. I stood up between them. “Yeah.” I repeated. He looked me over carefully. “Let's go.” He said, turning around and leaving without another word. I shrugged at Nikki, who just smiled back, and followed the bassist out.
I caught up with his brisk pace. “So do ya where you live?” I asked. He shrugged and turned a corner. “My apartment’s on this street. Let’s get to work.” I smiled and flexed my fingers, ready to feel that fretboard again. “Cool.”
He opened the door and let me in ahead of him. It was a small place, but definitely better than living on the street. He pointed at the thin hallway leading off the living room.
“Your room is that way, I put your guitar bag in there. I’ll give you a minute. I’ll be in the garage.” He left without another word and disappeared out a side door. I went in my new room and saw my bag on my bed as promised. I fished out a new bra (no thanks to Nikki) and threw it on, then ran a brush through my knotted hair. I gave up on it and took my guitar out. “Ah my baby I missed you!” I cooed like a moron, hugging my guitar to me.
It was a Fender Jaguar that I worked hard to blow every penny of my hard earned money on a few years back. When I saw it I was in love for the first time. Over the course of playing it and getting into punk rock I took an entire week to painstakingly repaint it into a glossy dark pink with kitten stickers on and a homemade sticker I made that said 'why do feminist give blowjobs'. To this day it’s still the most beautiful instrument I’d ever seen, and anybody who sees it says the same thing. It’s my pride and joy, my baby. I dug a pick out of my bag and headed out.
The pounding of drums flooded my senses as soon as I opened the door. I listened as he pounded out the beats, hearing five different songs in my brain at once. His hair flew in odd angles and covered his face until he glanced up and saw me. “Woah” he said, staring at my guitar. The pounding stopped. I gripped my guitar’s neck and shut the door behind me, finding a small amp in the corner and plugging in. I noticed a disheveled Strat stuffed in another corner and figured that’s why the amp was here. He was still looking at it. I smirked. “I get it you like it, everybody does. Can we practice now?” He nodded and instantly returned to pounding.
I tapped my foot with the rhythm and heard one of the songs in my head. I quickly tuned my guitar down and started playing. I couldn’t explain what came over my fingers as I followed the pattern of drums. It was like nothing I had experienced before. I had imagined songs before, different beats, sounds, and patterns, but never had I imagined it was like this. I didn’t know that the simple act of jamming with a partner could spark such creativity! I led into a solo that was completely random yet sounded somewhat decent.
We ended our parts at the same time and stared at each other. “Did we just make a song?” Austin asked dumbly.
I looked down at my fingers. “I think so.” I mused, smiling. Mötley didn’t stand a chance now. My head shot up, an evil twinkle in my gaze. “We need a rhythm guitarist.” I demanded. And so the search began.