Rock Revenge: Alex's Story

I’d taken my makeup along, intending to get sorted at the club, since we had to hang around after sound check. It kinda bugged me that the guys could go on stage just wearing their everyday clothes, jeans and t-shirts, while I had to fuss around with makeup and an actual “outfit”. I liked getting dressed up but I didn’t see why it should be a prerequisite for going on stage. Sometimes I felt like just being casual and this was one of those times. I was tired and cranky.

I hauled my makeup case and outfit to the bathroom. My eyeliner didn’t want to stick to my eyelids and my foundation seemed to slide off my face. The more I mucked around with it, the more I screwed things up. In the end, I wiped off my whole face and started again.

Someone knocked on the door. There was only one toilet cubicle for backstage.

“I’m busy in here. Go use the toilets out front.”

The knocker grunted but he stomped off. That put the pressure on me, though. I didn’t want to seem like a princess, hogging the bathroom to pretty myself up.

The second time, I still didn’t look perfect but figured the smeared eyeliner look was rock. I added my killer red lipstick then tried to wiggle out of my clothes and into my dress without letting anything touch the floor, because I wasn’t sure how clean that toilet floor was.

My fishnets were the toughest bit. I stood on my runners and tried to balance myself to get them on.

Finally, I grabbed out my boots and pulled them on my feet. I was ready.

I walked into the change room.

Pete gave me a sweeping look.

“What?” I asked.

“If you want to get some interest in the band, you could show a bit more cleavage.”

I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. I was already a bit nervous about the skin-tight dress. I’d been feeling bloated all day.

“What the fuck, Pete? What the actual fuck? If you want interest, you show your own motherfucking cleavage. I’m a guitarist, not a stripper. I don’t see you and Ferdie getting all dressed up to play.”

Pete laughed and that made me angrier. “No one’s paying to see the two of us look hot. This is the real world, Dee. If you have a chick out front, people want to see tits.”

My rage made it impossible for me to answer that. Pete had been a total jerk lately and I wanted to wipe that smile right off his face. But then he stopped laughing and stared at the doorway behind me.

I turned and saw Alex standing behind me, glaring at Pete.

“You are so full of shit. Dee’s the one people will watch, not because she has tits but because she has the talent and the charisma. You’re expendable.”

Alex left and I sat down on the sofa at the other end of the room to Pete. A couple of guys from the opening band came in and chatted to him and Ferdie, while I played on my phone.

I was still fuming when we went on to play. Fuming at Pete for being a huge sexist jerk. He’d never been like that before, he’d been the one encouraging me to play guitar and all that. Had he been thinking about my tits the whole time?

I was also fuming at Alex. He might’ve thought he was jumping in to defend me but he didn’t need to do that. I could stick up for myself and I would guarantee that crack about Pete being expendable would get his back up. And he’d take that out on me, not Alex.

I walked out on stage to a mild cheer and, after plugging in my guitar, turned to the crowd with my biggest shit-eating grin. The only way out of this was through and I couldn’t deal with Pete until after we’d finished playing. I didn’t want to ruin our chances by seething.

“Hey, thanks for coming out to see us tonight,” I shouted to the room.

That got a bigger cheer.

We slammed into our first song. As soon as I started, all the resentments died away. All that nastiness disappeared. It was me and the music. Pete might be a jerk but I could count on him to be there with me on stage when I needed him. We were on fire. If people didn’t love this, I had no idea what else to do because we were giving them everything we had to give.

Alex stood to the side, watching us. Well, it seemed more like he was watching me. It made me uncomfortable, but then I’d done worse to him. I’d just ignore him and focus on someone else in the room. A random guy in the crowd. That focused my attention.