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The lights blaze down at us. Bobby V is going double-time, his fingers flying on his guitar. DZ and Kyle keep up with him. The three of them are perfectly synced up, racing each other but keeping it together.
I can barely see the audience through the stage lights, but I can feel them as I sing and wail. Only thirty or so people crammed into a dive bar, but right now, they’re fucking ours. We have them. They kick and jump and dance and scream with me. It doesn’t matter that we’re the openers. It doesn’t matter that it’s a Tuesday. In this moment, they are part of us, and we are the fucking music. We are fucking War College.
And then the set ends, and it’s just fucking over. DZ and Bobby V unplug and grab their amps. I help Kyle get his kit offstage so the next band can set up. Backstage, someone from the bar pays us $100 and 8 drink tickets. Bobby V takes the money. DZ and I split the drink tickets, since Kyle and Bobby V won’t drink tonight anyway. Kyle’s got work at the Y in the morning, and Bobby V is doing some kind of cleanse.
When we head into the bar itself, Bobby V and DZ split off. The tattoo artist they’re dating is leaning up against the bar waiting for them. He’s a little taller than them, and they just tuck in under his arms, instantly in their mode, which is mostly just DZ bitching about everything, while the guys nod and occasionally say something pithy.
I grab Kyle before he can wander off when I spot my brother and his friends. I point at my brother and one of his roommates, who’s basically draped over him.
“That’s new.” It is, right? Kyle will tell me if I missed something earlier though.
“That’s not just bro jobs and helping hands behavior, Sadal. Think your brother snagged a boyfriend.” Kyle’s all smiles as he walks away, leaving me to stew in it by myself for a moment.
Of course I want Ocam to have someone or whatever, but Dare? That business school douche? Seriously? What’s the point of being bi if you’re still going to pick the worst dude in the room?
Whatever. I can be nice, I can handle this, I can handle Dare. I can totally handle Ocam’s boyfriend Dare. Fuck.
Ocam’s wearing a War College t-shirt that he designed for us and a pair of plain black jeans and his checkered Vans. Dare is in a pastel green polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts, with boat shoes and no socks. Which is maybe the douchiest outfit I can think of, but I will keep my mouth shut about it.
I head over to them. Besides Dare, Ocam brought the other roommate, Caleb, and his girlfriend, Sam. She stands out here, gold eyeshadow, hair done in big afropuffs, wearing a sparkly pink top and hoop earrings. Because she’s cool, she stands out in a cool way (not like fucking Dare), like some of the prettied up girls in the corner who are here for Um, Jennifer?, the band setting up.
Caleb is dressed so non-descript it’s hard to even register what he’s wearing. He walks through the world like he’s an expert at camouflage. Total weirdo, hates Dare, but likes Ocam, so he’s fine by me. He and his girlfriend are in some engineering program. I got him to talk about it once, but he lost me when he started talking about the fluid dynamics of air molecules.
Caleb’s friend Jayden is with them, but he’s already making a bee-line for Kyle. He’s in a black tanktop and a plaid schoolgirl skirt with big combat boots. Jayden and Sam are both way cooler than the rest of Ocam’s friends.
I walk up to them and Ocam grabs me, slipping out from under Dare’s arms to yank me into a hug.
“T! You were so fucking good!” He’s practically bouncing. I love him so much.
“Thanks for coming out, O!” I hand three of the drink tickets to Dare. “Get you and O another round. I want a G and T.”
“I’ve got you, T.” He grins and walks away. I hate that he calls me T. Only Ocam calls me T. Such a douche.
Am I worse about him now that he’s potentially with Ocam? Fuck. I probably am. Get a grip, girl.
“Thanks for coming.” I smile at Caleb and Sam, turning to give Sam a hug when Ocam lets me go.
“It was great, Tarima. I brought my roommate, Genesis.” Sam pulls me over to a little blonde girl in a blue A-line dress looking like she just graduated Zoey Deschanel’s Academy for Manic Pixie Dream Girls. Her hair is perfect, she’s got lavender eyeshadow, and her nails glitter with perfectly smooth gold polish.
“Hey.” She gives an awkward little smile. “Your voice is … really intense.” I laugh.
“You hated it.” She flushes and looks away.
“I didn’t hate it, but I don’t usually… I should have brought earplugs, I think.” I laugh again.
“I have extras if you want to stick around for the next band.” I fish a little baggie of earplugs out of my pocket.
“Why do you have those?”
“I stand ten feet in front of a drum kit. That shit is so loud.” She nods and smiles, looking like she’s starting to loosen up. Dare pushes in and hands me my gin and tonic.
“Good show.” He grins, and I know he’s lying, because he hates our music, but I am being nice and not saying shit. “Lucky you were on first, Ocam and I have to head out soon. Classes early and all.”
How do I say ‘are you serious about my brother or are you just being a fuckboy?’ without actually saying that?
“Yeah, sure. Um, Jennifer? is really good, but maybe you’ll catch them some other time.”
“The next band is called Um, Jennifer?” Genesis asks with a big smile, clearly thinking it’s funny. Which it is, which is the point.
“That’s a dumb name.” Dare says. Douche. Genesis rolls her eyes, and I immediately like her.
“It was good to see you, Dare. Thanks for coming out.” I do my best to make my tone actually nice, but it’s so sketchy. He gives me a condescending little smile and then goes back to draping himself all over my brother.
“So, do you do this full time?”
“God, no. I fucking wish. I do retail.” She lets out a little half-laugh, and I can’t help but smile. “What about you?”
“I’m in the same MBA program as Dare.” She looks away like she’s embarrassed about getting an MBA from some top tier university uptown.
“So you’ll buy and sell us all in a couple years, yeah?”
“I guess. Family footsteps. Kind of obligated.”
“I get that. Dad’s still mad Ocam and I didn’t do poli-sci degrees.”
“Senator Sadal was hopeful that one of you would follow in his footsteps?” My turn to feel embarrassed.
“Yeah, I guess. He’s less mad at Ocam, cause he’s at least doing mainly campaign ad stuff with his design degree. I did music and now I’m in some queer rock band and selling expensive dresses to pay rent.”
“Ballsy. I don’t know if I could do that. I mean, I thought about doing a mathematics grad program, but it felt like an impractical way to do a bunch of math, when I could just run numbers for businesses and not have to live my life in academia.”
“Totally fair. DZ is in some writing program so she can become a professor, but based on how she handles being a TA, I think she’s going to end up throttling someone if she actually does it.” She laughs. “Oh, DZ’s our bassist. She’s over there with her boyfriends.” I point over at DZ who’s leaned up on the bar now, with Bobby V and their boyfriend. She’s laughing maniacally at something one of them said. I love her. She looks like such a fucking psycho.
“T, we’re headed home. Have a good night!” Ocam hugs me from behind, and I lean into him, holding his arms around me for a moment. Caleb and Sam are all smiles as they wave goodbye, and Darem is pulling Ocam away. I wave at them and look over at Genesis, expecting her to leave with them, but she’s just hanging out still.
“You don’t have to go?”
“No, I already finished all my classwork for tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind hanging out longer, if that’s cool with you.” She gives me a little smile.
“Oh, so this was like a setup, right? Sam and O came up with a plan?” I give her a playful little shove.
“Ocam thought it was a good idea for us to meet, and I… I mean, your music’s pretty intense, but you… you’re hot when you’re on stage.”
“Just on stage?” She’s blushing and it’s really fucking cute.
“Fuck off. You don’t need me to tell you you’re hot.”
“Need and want are separate things.”
“So you want me to say that you’re hot.” She’s looking more confident now.
“It could be cool.” I try to play it cool, but I am absolutely not cool about this. I absolutely want her to think I’m hot.
“Cool. I mean, yeah, you’re hot. Give me your phone.” I hand her my phone, and she puts in her number. I give her some earplugs, and Um, Jennifer? goes on stage. She’s awkward about dancing, but we have fun anyway.