Chapter Seven #2
I shoot one last lingering look at Jordan’s back as he opens the door leading out of the backstage area.
It slams shut and my shoulders droop, but I don’t follow him.
Best to let him cool off. I’ll make sure to show him how much I care about him later.
Turning back around, I spot Taser and I head towards him, standing awkwardly next to him as he exchanges banter with Blake.
I half listen in on the conversation, my mind wandering, bouncing between how to make things right with Jordan and how I don’t really know what I’m doing back here.
I’m not a musician, not really. I can play a few things on the piano but not super well.
As Taser and Blake are discussing what guitar to upgrade to next, I’m reminded of how much I don’t really fit in anywhere, despite being Goddess’ Trance’s manager.
I rock a bit back and forth on my heels, my eyes roaming around the backstage area.
Blake’s band is scattered, some just talking, some checking over their equipment.
Amelia is chatting with their drummer, Reese, and Tubbs.
I look over to the corner closer to stage left and see four guys standing a bit further away from everyone else.
They’re all masked and I wonder how I’m just now noticing them.
Three of them wear black, structured masks, made out of dense embroidered fabric.
There are no eye holes, giving the impression that the men can’t see through them.
A pair of golden, skeletal fingers wrap around the masks, like someone long dead is covering their eyes.
Those same three wear all black, except for the tallest one.
A rainbow scrunchie decorates his left wrist.
The fourth guy is wearing a lacy, black, hooded robe that’s open to reveal his torso, which is painted in a blueish black grease paint.
Something iridescent smatters his skin in patches.
They shimmer in the light, like black scales.
His face is covered by an intricate black metal mask.
Skeletal fingers also cover his eyes, but instead of gold they look to be made out of mother-of-pearl.
His hood casts the top of his mask in shadow.
As I look closer, I see all the members have that same black grease paint on all exposed skin.
I try not to stare at them too much, but I can’t really help it.
They’re whispering to each other, though the one with the more elaborate costume seems just to be standing there, only looking at the others every once in a while.
He’s angled slightly towards them, but he keeps his head down. I wonder if his mask is heavy.
I tug on Taser’s sleeve, interrupting his conversation with Blake. Nodding towards them, I ask, “Who are they?”
Taser follows my gaze and leans in to be heard over the rest of the conversations around us.
“That’s Voracious Maw. Kind of up and coming.
I think they’re from the UK. Blake met them last year after some festival and asked them to open for a few shows here.
They only use stage names. The one with the unique mask is Wrath.
The taller guy is Eerie, their bassist. The shortest of them—that’s Mist, the drummer. And the guitarist is Poison.”
“What’s with the costumes?” It wasn’t unheard of in this genre, but something about theirs intrigues me.
“They’re probably all really fucking ugly,” Jordan says from behind me, making me jump. I didn’t realize he’d come back. He runs his hand up the back of my neck. “Why else hide?”
I cringe at his touch, his words poking at an anger I don’t usually have. “Maybe they’re all really good-looking and don’t want people to judge them solely on their looks.” I try to sound indifferent, but my voice just comes out whiny and defensive.
“Yeah right, sure.” Jordan takes my hand and tugs me towards him.
“Let’s go get a good spot to watch the freak show that’s about to play.
” He steers me out of the backstage area before I can say goodbye to anyone.
I glance back, hoping to catch Amelia or Reese’s attention so they know where to find me, but instead my eyes snag on the guy in the hooded robe.
He’s looking my way, at least it feels like he is.
I can’t see his eyes behind his mask, so there’s no sure way to tell.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Voracious Maw.” My head turns to the stage as one of the venue staff walks away from the center microphone stand. Amelia and the rest of our band find me just as the lights dim and a hush goes through the crowd.
Taser slings his arm around Jinx, who’s standing behind Jordan and me, thankfully shielding my short frame from any potential mosh pits that might start up behind us. We’re close to the stage, so I can see just fine, which is nice. But I’m prepared to duck out if things get too crazy.
A few claps go around the crowd as some of the stage lights start up, but mostly everyone just kind of waits to see if the opening band is any good.
I feel a shiver go up my arms as the hooded frontman makes his way to the center microphone, followed out by the rest of the guys.
The one with the rainbow scrunchie goes to stage right and picks up his bass.
He looks over to the guitarist, who nods and plays a single note. The lead begins singing.
His voice is softer than I would have expected, and he sings the first song in falsetto.
The drums, guitar, bass, and piano are all very minimal.
I look around the crowd. Everyone’s pretty quiet, as if we’re all collectively waiting for the music to get a bit heavier.
The lyrics make me shiver, though, and Amelia looks over at me, nodding her head in approval.
“This is a fucking sexy song!” she whisper yells at me.
And then just as the crowd is lulled into thinking this is a soft melodic song, the drums start to pick up, almost unnoticeable at first. The guitarist comes in with heavy strokes, adding a bit of a grungy feel to the song as the drums get even heavier and faster.
The lead paces up and down the stage as he waits for his next verse.
And as the drums and guitar quiet back down, he returns to the microphone, continuing to serenade the crowd.
“How is he singing that well with that fucking mask, bro?” Taser asks Tubbs. We all smile at each other, because literally how is he doing that? Dericia holds out her arm to me, her sleeve pushed up to reveal chills going up her arm. We beam at each other.
As the first song wraps up with some heavy guitar riffs and the full-bodied drums, the crowd is hooked, but I can tell by their body language, the band doesn’t realize it yet. They almost seem nervous as the first song ends and they look around at each other a bit before beginning the next one.
The drummer starts the song off and the lead sings, his full baritone coming out in this song.
It’s more fast-paced than the previous one, the depth and body of the drums being fully showcased.
The crowd is definitely more engaged now, really getting into the show as the guitarist starts in on a new riff.
People are starting to throw up horns. I might be one of them.
It’s the fifth song that sends shivers and goose bumps up my arms, and if anyone in the crowd wasn’t impressed by this new band, they are now.
The lead takes a quick drink of water as the song starts and drops the plastic bottle on the stage floor. His movements are awkward and jerky, and even though their performance has been amazing, part of me wonders if he’s drunk.
This song is more violent, the lyrics about being pierced through the chest, clawed into by something or someone. But also how he wants to find his way back to someone. The song is full of rage and yet somehow sensual, and I can’t wrench my eyes away.
The lead wraps the cord of the microphone around the guitarist’s neck, pulling it tight, and I can hear a slight wisp of a chuckle in his singing. The guitarist falls to his knees, still playing, and the cord falls away. The crowd eats it up, cheering.
There’s a break in the lyrics and the lead begins pacing up and down the stage again, and as the guitar solo gets even heavier, he starts jumping and thrashing around as if he’s in a solo mosh pit.
His hands keep going to his mask, maybe to check that it hasn’t budged, or maybe because he can feel it moving around.
It looks heavy enough that it weighs on him and he doesn’t have full range of motion with it on.
“That was definitely the best song they played all night,” Jordan whispers into my ear, rubbing up against me from behind. I can feel he’s hard as a rock. “Maybe we should find our way to a bathroom.”
He wraps his arms around me, his hand drifting down to my pelvic region. I swat his hand away.
“What the hell is the matter with you, Bliss?” he asks, gripping my waist hard.
“We’re in public,” I say back, trying to be heard over the music.
“You’re a succubus, Bliss. Maybe you should start acting like one.”
My whole body goes rigid. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Despite loving the music of the opening band, by the time the main act goes up on stage, I’m getting tired of keeping a content fake smile on my face and wanting to go home so badly I’m about to call a ride for myself and leave Jordan here.
But somehow I make it through the rest of the show, doing my best not to let anyone know that all I want to do right now is cry.