The line to The Devil's Den stretched to the end of the street, curving past the corner shop.
Snow descended like ash on groupies underdressed in loose tanks and mini dresses. All of them eager to attend the show. The whole town had been captivated by a local band known as BlackNest, a rising punk rock group that played exclusively at the Den.
"Have it ready Bon." Tasha whispered as we approached the entrance. I squeezed the card in my hand. A fake ID she gifted me to use for this specific event. Which wasn't all that difficult to buy in a small town of 10,000 people. You just had to know who to ask. Tasha was good at that, asking and building connections.
"ID, ladies." Ordered the bouncer, a bald giant in a black, fitted tee-shirt. Unaffected by the falling snow.
Tasha flashed her card as she entered, smiling cheekily. The bouncer made no effort to examine it. He must have recognized her.
I stopped in front of him and held mine up for better inspection. He skimmed it before nodding to the door. I treaded onward, tucking my ID into my jacket pocket.
I was hoping to be denied entry when I agreed to go out. That way, I'd have a valid reason to go back home without disappointing her. But it was Tasha's birthday. And given BlackNest - her new, favorite band - was playing tonight, I couldn't exactly decline her request.
"Okay, wait," Tasha whipped around, tucking chocolate curls behind her ears. "How do I look?"
I skimmed her outfit. Red heels, black jeans, a leopard-print top under a leather jacket. She looked very much like every other girl in the club. It made me feel a little humiliated in my dirt-stained sneakers, my flare skirt, and my plain white tee tucked under a yellow hoodie.
She chewed on her bottom lip, waiting for my response.
"Great," I assured her. "Gorgeous as always."
"Perfect!" She took my hand and lead me down the hall into the heart of the club. We zipped past a bar that seated a group of older men ogling her with hungry eyes. They whistled as we hurried to the stage, but she gave them no acknowledgment.
A crowd of mostly women packed the center space, blocking the stage. Tasha yanked me into it, storming through dozens of bodies to squeeze our way to the front. I apologized profusely as we wriggled between them, though it did me no good. They were all peeved; cursing at us as she pulled me in.
"Frankie!" Tasha squealed, waving at someone in the front row.
A guy with spiky hair waved back at her, but I couldn't make out any defining features before he took her hand to help us. His friends made room to join them up front before we were swallowed into the crowd with a single, hard pull.
Stumbling forward, my chest rammed into the edge of the stage. Tasha quickly checked on me, but I forced a smile to ease her worries and pretended the throbbing in my collarbone was non-existent. The crease between her brows softened before she smiled back in relief. After that, she thanked the guy that helped us through. I tried to do the same, but before I could say anything the lights went out.
The crowd squealed in the dark, deafening me. I clutched my ears, counting numbers in my head to focus on something other than the screams reverberating in my chest. When that didn't work, I shut my eyes and pretended to be elsewhere. Anywhere. Silently wishing for the night to end quickly.
Then a shadow darkened my already black vision.
My lids flew open and my eyes flicked up to the figure looming over me. She stared blankly, unhooking the microphone on the stand. Her hazel eyes were mesmerizing. Upturned like a cat, adorned with black, winged-liner.
The spotlight fell directly on her, illuminating the features on her placid face.
A guitar strummed in the background. The beat of a drum followed without warning, making me flinch. She chuckled.
"Isn't she gorgeous?" Tasha whispered in my ear. I realized my hands were settled on my sides, as if I the cat-eyed performer had hypnotized me into uncovering my ears with just her gaze.
"Good evening, everyone." She said into the mic, flashing a smile at the crowd with her ruby painted lips. "We. Are. BlackNest."
Music abruptly flooded the room. The floor shook with the violent stomps of the crowd behind us. Everyone was swooning over the singer as she performed original pieces with her band. That's when I finally understood what all the hype was about.
Her voice was melodic; like something not of this world. Expelling passion with just her voice. Belting lyrics of loneliness and heartbreak and love to an audience that begged for more.
She deserved a bigger stage.
An hour into the show, her face was glinting with sweat. She took a moment to peel off her burgundy tank top before tossing it to the crowd. I lunged for it, sealing my catch with fast hands before I searched for her eyes again.
She smirked with a devilish wink.
I never took my eyes off of her that night. I couldn't. She wouldn't let me. I was pulled back in whenever our eyes locked.
She had me trapped in a trance.
Enamored with her gaze.
And honestly, I adored every minute of it.