Meet Janna. She is an outcast with no true friends and nothing to lay claim to except broken laws and busted balls. Everything changes when she meets her biggest rivalry at a concert.
"Guys life sucks!" I yelled across the room. I was pissed. My favorite shirt had just been torn by some fan, and my jeans had a huge rip in them. My clothes are my life, even if they are all black. "I am going out. Shannon come do my make-up."
"Janna, I am not doing your make-up...again. Just stay in like the rest of us. You know we have an interview tomorrow and you drink to much as it is. Don't you want to be sober for at least one of the interviews?" Shannon, who used to be my best friend, always tries to talk me out of a rage, but tonight I couldn't listen to her. She lost her status as a best friend when she started fucking my boyfriend behind my back. But as they say, the show must always go on.
I couldn't listen to anyone. Shannon, the bass player, was the last friend I had left...until she ruined it. Screw the fact that she married the dick and is currently expecting his child.
Corie, the drummer, and Shea, the lead guitarist were never my friends, but they could rock their heart and souls out. That is what mattered.
"I am gone...anyone coming?" I said to the bitches in my band. I was nothing like them, just the outcast. They cared about themselves and I didn't give one hot damn. My band was Dance with the Devil, and I was the only one who lived our name.
"NOOOO!!!!" they screamed at me once again. That was their answer every night. I didn't care, I wanted to be alone. I craved the sense of total isolation. I was made for total isolation. The only one in our band with a dark soul, was the one who always walked alone.
I am a 5'6" girl with black hair and neon blue streaks. My hair is curly and unfortunately it reaches my waist, I hate my hair. The fans love it so it stays. I am not ultra skinny but I am not exactly my weight. I fight with bulimia, and sometimes it gets the best of me. I am a bitch, and I look. My make-up is always done to make me look dark and dangerous, and my clothes are always tight black tops with loose black bottoms. The only color is the writing that usually says "Go Fuck Yourself!"
My name is Janna. I am the lead singer of Dance with the Devil. Welcome to my hell.
Since none of the blond band members wanted to go with me I had to hunt up my favorite bus driver to tag along with me. His name was simply Joe and he doubles as my body guard when I go off alone. I hate Joe. He never lets me get pumped up on my favorite drugs, but he lets me get shit faced.
"Joe, I need you to go with me to the club."
"Which one do you want tonight? Hellion, Inferno, Dante's, or the No Name."
"I want the No Name Bar, Joe. It is the only place that serves only beer, and not those stupid mixed drinks. I just want straight whiskey tonight my dear old man. Can you pull that one off for me?"
"I guess I could do that one, your highness!"
"Don't be sarcastic. That is my job." Joe led me to his car as we were talking and opened the door like a gentleman. Did I mention I hated him? The ride to the bar was quiet. We never talked, because at the end of the night he would be pulling me out of this dingy bar and dragging me into the tour bus.
The bar was my dream. Nasty with old cigarette butts on the floor and broken glass shattered everywhere. It smelled like cat piss, but it was home to me. I was raised in a place like this. I can live in a place like this one. The barkeep knew me by sight and never let anyone know I was part of some famous band.
He just handed me my drink and the bottle and walked off. He never collected on the money until I start stumbling out the door with the bottle in hand. The barkeep knew people like me and when I start cursing my rivals he just nods his head and smiles. By this time the barkeep knows all about how much I hated My Chemical Romance.