2
Zoey
The1990s
Zoey Ackerman stoodby the club's sound booth as she scanned the darkened floor for her partner-in-crime and fellow waitress at The Roxy in West Hollywood. Spotting Megan Spencer weaving through the crowd and then preparing to run past with a tray full of beer, Zoey stepped in front of her and forced hertostop.
With her shoulder-length jet black hair, black tights, and a dark floral baby doll dress, Zoey wasn't an imposing person, but she knew Megan didn't want to drop her tray. Megan had prominent cheekbones made more obvious by the tight ponytail that held her blonde hair with red streaks away from her face. She gave Zoey an impatient look as she waited for her tospeak.
"There's a spill backstage,"Zoeysaid.
After years of being club rats, one of them decided that working at their favorite hangout was the perfect job. They had both just graduated from high school and needed to work, so why wouldn't they want to work where they spent the bulk of their free time? Besides, Megan needed a job until she figured out what she was doing with her life, and Zoey wanted to save some money before going tocollege.
"And?" Megan said. "I cleaned up the last one. It's your turn. Besides, those losers look like they're going to spill beer allnightlong."
"No, I cleaned it the last time. And the timebeforethat."
"I don't think so, Zoey. Rock, paper,scissors?"
They shook their fists and at the count of three, Zoey stuck two fingers out, making scissors. Megan kept her hand balled up intoafist.
"Fuck! Rock beats scissors. You always win," Zoeygroaned.
"Try picking something other than scissors next time," Megan said, laughing. Voices echoed from down the hall followed by a loud crash. "I hate when people can't handle their alcohol. Seems to happen herealot."
"You're talking to someone who can't even handle onedrink."
"See, that's why you're perfect for mopping up the mess. You can't handle your alcohol, and neithercanthey."
Megan rolled a bucket with suspiciously brown water and a mop towards her. Pushing the bucket along the hall, Zoey glanced at the layers of concert posters pasted on the dark walls. Chili Peppers, Jane's Addiction, even Soundgarden. They were the reason she was there, not to mop floors for some wannabes that would nevermakeit.
As her Doc Martens made sticking sounds across the floor, the next band on stage began playing what they called music. Wednesday nights were always the worst. Ever since word got out that some A&R people scouted the local clubs for new talent, their Pay For Play amateur night wasmobbed.
Every band within driving distance would try to get one of the five Wednesday night slots. When the manager realized how in demand they were, he started charging the bands to play. Unfortunately, he also put aside any kind of vetting of the bands he was doingbefore.
Zoey tried to ignore the noise coming from the stage, but something didn't gel.Boom boom.Pausing for a second, she focused on the music and immediately regretted it and tuned them outagain.
"Ugh, what a mess! And they're stupid enough to think this is going to get them somewhere," she mumbled toherself.
Boom boom.But there it was again. The something that didn't sound right. The band had their amps and monitors set way too high for the room, but that wasn't it. That was something all thesebandsdid.
She felt it in her chest, like something trying to take over the steady rhythm of her heart.Boom boom.As she pushed the wheeled pail along, she detoured over to the stage entrance and looked out at the crowd. No one seemed to care about this band's poor excuse for music, but she was beginning to getcurious.
"Zoey, come on! You know once it gets dry it’s even harder to mop up," Megan said as shewalkedpast.
"I know, I know," she said as she maneuvered the pail back towards the backstage area the Wednesday night bands were allowed to use. "This really wasn't how I expected to spend my last summer beforecollege."
"It was your idea!" Megan said,laughing.
Zoey preferred thinking no one was to blame. It was easier than accepting it was her fault she and Megan were working such shitty summer jobs. As much as she liked to complain about it, deep down Zoey believed she had the summer job of a lifetime. She was surrounded by music and hot men. Okay, maybe not always good music and eye candy on Wednesday nights, but definitely during the rest oftheweek.
Honestly, sometimes even the not-so-good bands had sexy men in them. She couldn't help it, there was nothing sexier than a man with a guitar. And if he could write songs on top of that, then he wasscorchinghot.
Entering the backstage area where one of the bands that already played still hung out, Zoey had to blink as her eyes adjusted from the darkness of the hall to the stark white of the fluorescent lights. The room smelled like sweat, cheap beer, and Taco Bell.It’s no wonder one of thempuked.
Pushing the pail farther into the dressing room, Zoey glanced at the four pimply-faced guys in plaid flannel shirts sitting on metal folding chairs before spotting the reason she was there with a mop. Slumped in a corner, their fifth member was several shades ofgreen.
“Hey, is he okay?” Zoey asked as she walked over and tapped the guy's leg with the tip of her boot. He didn’t move. “Seriously guys, he’s your buddy. Is healright?”