“ ‘Bout forty minutes. Allison wants to resume practice. Come on.” Jen replied, already making her way upstairs.
Crystal began to reposition herself right-side up when she realized she was in the basement of a diner. The blue haired girl shifted uncomfortably in her clothes. An oversized maroon hoodie branded with the initials of a high school set for demolishing in March hung loosely on her figure, the cuffs weighted with years of sweat and grime. Underneath was a white tank-top great for practicing her performances in. However, the reason why she wasn’t ditching her jacket right now was because her shirt allowed dark colors to peak through and her navy blue bra could be seen a mile away. Plus, it was cold outside anyway. On the subject of the weather, Crystal decided to take a chance and wear her fingerless gloves she received from her mother. The green was nice shade and the wool felt good on her palms but the gloves completed the homeless-look she was desperately trying to avoid.
Today wasn’t working out so well. In addition to the weather, Crystal could feel herself becoming ill. She started to sniffle after every few seconds by the end of their third song. She couldn’t sing any more by the fourth. Next thing she knew, she was on a quilt-covered couch in the basement of the diner. Allison was probably pissed. Crystal wouldn’t blame her. Not really. Richard’s was actually a bit of a gig stepping stone in this town. Every Sunday night, the restaurant would transform into miniature rock venue with some upstart band trying to reach a bigger audience than just family and a couple of nice police officers. The place would be packed most of the time. Crystal was surprised that Richard’s sold out on occasion. Hell, she was surprised that Richard’s sold tickets! The blue haired girl thought tragedy would strike when the man himself, Richard Maroose, was going on vacation the week of their supposed performance; however, not only did he tell them that the show would go on, he allowed them to utilize the diner for practice on Saturday with his son’s supervision. The guitarist made a mental note to thank Jen the umpteenth time for being the family’s friend for twenty years.
Crystal stood up and made her way upstairs, tying to ignore how itchy the couch was. The girl’s illness seemed to migrate to her forehead as light pulses occurred to the beat of her heart. The guitarist massaged her eyebrows for a bit at the top of the stairs.
“She awakens!” Alison shouted from halfway across the room. Crystal groaned and dug her fingers into her gloves to prevent herself from making an obscene gesture.
Eyes still closed, the blue haired girl could hear an instrument be placed down and the squeak of new sneakers approach her. The lead guitarist began grin as she reflected on how Aimee still managed to show her timidness in the sound of her footsteps. She guessed the second guitar player was about three feet way before inquiring “h-how are you feeling?”
Crystal let go of her eyebrows, opened her eyes, and said “I’m fine. Thanks, Aimee!” She was greeted with the image of redhead a few years younger than her dressed like it was the first day of school. The blue haired girl couldn’t help but smile at how delicate the were laced in the redhead’s hair. Crystal really didn’t have the patience for things like that, a reason for the braid punishment, but on Aimee, it looked great.
The guitarist turned to face her other bandmates. Jen was pretty plain compared to her stage outfit, nearly business-like. While she still wore her favorite boots, the brunette was decked out in black slacks and a white dress shirt. Her attire would seem formal to formal to most; however, Crystal sensed a “professional partier” duality in the bass player which fit her nicely. Alison was already in her stage outfit. Okay, so Alison never really changed out of her stage outfit. The difference between her stage persona and her real self was how short of a skirt she wore which Crystal couldn’t tell due to the drum set. The lead guitarist thought her bandmates were all dressed beautifully, despite the varied choices in clothing. She groaned when she glanced down at herself again. Yep...... Still a hobo..........
Walking to pick up her guitar case, Crystal noticed that there was no one behind the register or anyone else except her band in the immediate area. “Where’s Jack?” she asked, wondering where their “supervisor” had gone.
Alison’s grin grew wider as she replied,
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