Amy smiled at the large crowd made up of middle aged men with long hair and black t-shirts. They clapped hard and threw their fists into the air, some of them spilling their beer in the process. Her brother Mike clutched his microphone on the opposite side of the stage, pointing to the audience in the dimly lit night club.
"Alright! This is our last song, thanks for having us come out!" he growled. "All you motherfuckers get close to the stage! This one's called "TORMENT... OF... AGONY!"
She chuckled to herself, the names of their songs were getting more ridiculous. A jubilant cheer filled the club as Amy glided her fingers against the thick strings of her black bass guitar, the large thumping through her refrigerator sized amplifier shook the stage as all eyes were on her. She lifted her leg and put her leather boot on the floor monitor as she leaned over the audience. Her instrument swayed along her waist as she moved her whole body, twirling her long black hair in large windmills as the fast death metal guitar riffs blasted through the pulsating speakers. Her fingers plucked the large strings at rapid speed, all while simultaneously head banging to the sludgy drone. All of her worries and anxiety of the busy week vanished as she lost herself in pure metal euphoria.
Death Metal wasn't Amy's preferred taste in music. She had all intentions of finishing music school and becoming a music teacher, she played cello in her college philharmonic and was inching closer to earning a Bachelor's degree in Music Theory. However getting pregnant by her then asshole fiancee pretty much halted that dream. She dropped out of college, gave birth to her daughter Nicole, and her fiancée ran off later that year. She raised her daughter on her own, moving from one job to the next until she landed a cozy nine to five gig as a bank teller.
Nicole was now six years old, and her parents had started to take her a few weekends a month. They encouraged Amy to start playing music again and to start having some sort of social life. Aside from the cello, the bass guitar was her real passion. Her older brother Mike taught her how to play in high school, starting her off on Ramones and Green Day songs until she ventured into more advanced artists like Les Claypool and James Jameson. She also had been in every band her brother Mike was in, having a girl in the band who can actually play was always a guarantee that Mike's projects would take off, at least thats what he told her . She didn't mind though, she loved to play and it didn't matter what she played. It was an escape from reality, a chance to become someone else for the night.
About two years ago her brother started a hard, aggressive death metal band, and asked Amy to play. She declined saying, "I don't play that heavy shit Mike you know that." Then after some line up changes and band members splitting, Mike practically begged Amy to fill in. She finally agreed and they had been playing together on stage for close to a year. The power metal trio known as Morbid Casket consisted of Amy on bass and backing vocals, Mike singing (if you could call growling singing) and on guitar, along with Mike's friend Trevor on drums.
Surprisingly, she was starting to enjoy filling in heavy metal bass duties for her brother, the music was challenging and complicated so it never bored her, and she secretly loved the attention from others, even if it required her to throw on black leather pants and eyeliner. On top of that, playing in a band with Trevor made it all worth wild.
Trevor was a thirty-two year old drummer who had been playing all his life. He was rugged and tall with tattooed arms and slicked back hair. His ears were gauged with small black plugs and he wore dirty work shirts from his day job as a mechanic. He was a solid musician, hilariously funny and always outgoing. Amy told him once he resembled a greaser straight from the 1950's. He ran with the compliment and didn't hold back from singing "Grease Lightening" to her with full on John Travolta theatrics whenever he could, even jumping on the hood of her car, similar to the movie.
After a year of playing together they had become good friends, more so after Trevor's divorce from his cheating wife six months ago. Amy fought all she could to not make her raging crush on the drummer obvious.
"MY PAIN IS HELL! TORMENT OF AGONY!" Amy's high pitched screams radiated through the club while Mike growled in unison. The crowd lost it, they head banged and pushed together while Amy's long hair covered her face like a horror movie villain. Trevor sprinted on his double bass drum pedals and slammed his cymbals while the song glided to the end.
"We're Morbid Casket! Goodnight!" Mike shouted as they ended their set. A roar of applause and whistles came from the crowd, "We love you Amy!" someone shouted from the back and Amy blew a kiss.
As they brought their instruments off stage, Trevor shot a glance at Amy bending over putting her bass in its case. She wore the same thing every show: Doc Martins up to her shins, with skin tight black leather pants that made her small perfectly round ass look amazing. As she stood up, he gazed at her slim waist covered by her black tank top. Her breasts were perfectly round and tonight she wore her black lace choker wrapped delicately around her neck.
"Great show Trev," she said, snapping Trevor out of his gaze.
"Oh, yeah, you too Ames." he replied.
"Guys! Yes! Fuckin' right! We fucking killed it!" Mike wrapped his arms around Amy and Trevor's shoulders, pushing them in close to Mike's sweaty t-shirt. His guitar in one hand, A beer can in the other. "We're gonna' stick around for the rest right? Fuckin' Plucked Out Eyes is coming on next, then it's Filth Canal. Fuckin' Filth Canal fuckin' kills it every show! Wooo!"
"Oh yeah, Filth Canal." Amy said dryly.
Trevor laughed.
Someone called Mike's name and he ran over, laughing and high fiving, while Amy and Trevor were stuck loading their gear back into their vehicles. Every show Trevor carried her bass amp for her and loaded it in her Subaru hatchback, while she loaded his drums into his truck.
"This is heavy as shit, but damn she sounds great." Trevor said after shutting the car door.
"Right? She's a classic. Never gonna sell it." Amy replied. "You rocked tonight Trev."
"Nah. You know they only come and see us because we have a hottie in the band."
Amy quickly turned and reached into her pocket for a hair tie before Trevor could notice her blushing. "Oh really? You think I'm a hottie huh?"
"No, I was talking about me," he replied smiling, "But you're ok I guess. On the hotness scale it's me, definitely Mike, then I guess you."
"Oh thanks." Amy said, the two of them laughed as they stopped to stare into the night's sky. "What time is it?"
"It's only ten-thirty." he said while looking at his phone, "You going back in for Plucked Out Eyes?"
"Ugh. I don't know."
Trevor paused, then looked over at Amy who was still staring at the stars, her face illuminating from the city lights, her eyes sparkled as Trevor stood and stared. "Do you want to go to my place?"
"What?" Amy asked.
"I said do you want to head back to my place. Skip Plucked Eyeballs and Filthy Canal and maybe just head back to my place and hang out. Get a pizza or something? Kiddo's at your parents tonight right?"
"Yeah she is until tomorrow night." Amy's heart was racing and her legs started to feel weak. "But, yeah sure that'll be great. Mike is in his element now so he won't care if we headed out."
"Alright. I'll meet you there."
Trevor walked to his car while Amy stood there frozen. Only in her dreams and fantasies has she ever been alone with Trevor. She twisted and twirled her hair as she walked back to the club entrance to tell her brother she was leaving.
"Going to Trevs? Alright, hey you fuckin' rocked tonight!" Mike exclaimed while sipping a Pabst Blue Ribbon. He stared at his kid sister puzzled, "Hey, Ames you ok?"
"Yeah. Why?"
