14. Charlie #3
The drummer gets up to follow Omen and for a second I’m thrown because I completely forgot he was still in here with us.
He really was in his own little world. I follow behind them, but head to the crowded bar as they make it to the stage.
It’s tiny, and it can barely fit the four of them, but at least there’s room for Noah to walk around and sing.
Lights burn auburn across the brick wall behind them.
Once the crowd in the bar notices Noah pulling the corded microphone from its stand, girls start swarming to the stage.
“How’s it going tonight?”
My heart skips a beat from his voice coming out of the loudspeakers. It’s smooth, and if his singing sounds anything like his actual tenor voice, I might be in danger. Girls scream as others lift up beer cans, throwing up devil horns.
“It’s been a while, and this place is packed.
Holy hell!” Noah kneels down, grabbing one of the girl’s hands reaching for his feet.
She leaps up and down, shouting over all the conversations.
“What was that?” he cups his ears and gives her a surprised look.
“You flew in from Virginia to come see us play at a bar? No fucking way?” She continues to leap up and down with excitement, but the gothic look still makes my stomach roll.
“Well, we love having you here. I’m sure most of you know the first song we are gonna play. It’s called Forbidden Fruit.”
Noah lifts his hand in the air, twirling his index finger, and Omen strikes the first chord, his eyes on his fingers.
The drums kick in, hitting me like a punch to the chest. He pounds out rhythms at a quick tempo.
The bass guitarist taps his foot and bangs his head.
Noah brings the mic to his lips and lets out one guttural roar, and everyone cheers.
It becomes a madhouse, and everyone in here knows the song.
Noah cups the mic and growls, “I can’t...” and flicks the mic toward the crowd as they yell back, “Stop!”
“I can’t!” He growls again, and the crowd grows louder as they scream back. “Stop!”
“You’ve gotta be louder than that,” he says so calmly and collectively with a smirk on his face. He paces back and forth and cups the mic again. “I can’t!” He points the microphone back and everyone roars, “Stop! Blegh!”
She’s the sunlight, my shadow, an Eden, a bite of the forbidden fruit
The serpent’s whisper isn’t guilty of temping me
I’m lost in this paradise, and I’ve never belonged.
She’s the forbidden, a beautiful sin, and she’s tempting too
I knew from the start that I could never win.
She’s gave me the fruit that I bit into,
Together we fell into a deadly paradise.
They say I’m condemned to a life of death
We’ll burn together until the day that we die
I’ll take her hand, and she’ll forever be mine
She’s the forbidden fruit, a beautiful sin, and she’s tempting too
I knew from the start that I could never win
She gave me the fruit that I bit into
Together we’ll fall in this deadly paradise
With her, I can’t stop
I can’t stop my temptation for her
The forbidden fruit, a beautiful sin,
I knew from the start that I’d never win.
She gave me the apple and I can’t stop! I can’t stop!
Together we’ll fall, stuck in this deadly paradise we made.
It’s a wave of people jumping up and down, singing along. I back up against the bar, where liquor is illuminated in a crimson red light. I find a lonely stool and prop myself up. The bartender comes up and I manage to order a drink.
That’s when a girl with a pixie haircut comes over and slurps her drink through a black straw.
“I love you, Noah!” she screams, cupping her hand around her mouth, like she wants the whole damn bar to know. It’s not like he can hear as he moves into another song. “Let me come backstage!” She puts her drink down and the tank top she's wearing comes up as she flashes the band.
I glance back up at the stage, and Noah’s eyes sweep across the crowd, just once, and they land on me.
He winks in my direction, it was barely a second, but it was enough.
I know I’m doomed, but this man’s voice has stolen my heart.
His vocals are raw and angelic. I’m convinced I’ve been put under a spell. I don’t know what this is.
I drink my screwdriver like it’s a Capri Sun.
I jab a straw into it, suck up every last drop, then get refills like nothing.
I dig around in my purse to find my cell phone and start stalking with only the little information I know.
It takes me a few tries, playing with search filters until I find the blue check mark button next to the band’s Instagram profile.
My mouth drops to the floor as I stare at the number of followers they have accumulated. Over fifty thousand. When I click on the most recent picture, there are comments about loving the band’s music, begging for a new single, and the girls being thirsty for Noah.
I finish my third screwdriver and place the empty glass on the bar. My tongue is saturated with the aftertaste of orange juice as I listen to the crowd singing along. A sickening feeling embeds itself in my chest. I suddenly don’t want anyone to leave with him but me.