Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Fangs & Bangs At The Rox

Jake and Cecil weren’t your most conventional act but they did alright for themselves. They’d tried expanding before but it always seemed to come back to just two of them. A lot of clubs wanted a stage full of players but with just Jake’s drums and Cecil on his Gibson they put on a helluva lot better show and the take got split fewer ways.  Besides, they brought something to the game most bands didn’t…paranormal pizazz. While that was, most definitely, not common knowledge they both knew it was what kept the dates rolling in.

As vampires go, Jake was a bit on the reserved side. Barely 200, he was considered New Age and didn’t mind that. He’d have plenty of time to build a family, control territory, and rule but, hell, that could wait right? He was more than satisfied to stick to the background and use his enhanced speed and stamina to keep the beat for Cecil. When he was rollin’, there wasn’t a drummer in town who could match his sticks.

Cecil was a natural front man. He was one of the rare breed of purebred Lycans and he was certainly unique in Jake’s experience. Cecil had the magnetism, the raw animal passion and drive but with none of the control issues. As a purebred, he and not the phases of the moon governed his inner wolf. He could strut, caper, slink and slide as the songs surged from his powerful throat and the natural picks his fingernails made danced across the strings of his guitar with a beauty even Santana would have envied.

Tonight they were doing two shows at the Rox. They played there a lot, mostly because Rorey, the manager, had taken a shine to the fact they didn’t get shitfaced drunk and forget how to perform halfway through the night. He also wasn’t afraid to pay well for an act that brought the crowds in. Fangs & Bangs delivered on that score…every…single…time. Yeah, it was kinda a dumbass name but they didn’t really give a crap. It fit them just fine.

It had been a good night all around. They had a nice flock of bimbos around the stage which always drew the single guys away from their tables and onto the dance floor. Meanwhile, the chicks that came there with companionship kept their men at their tables, drinking heavily and cussing about “faggot musicians”. As long as all they did was bitch and kept buying drinks, Fangs & Bangs were cool with it. There’d been a few nights they’d had to do a quick powder out the back or else. While that really griped Cecil’s wolven nature, Jake was always there to remind him no matter how unconventional they were for their respective kinds, nobody wanted the attention that would come of two scruffy rockers kicking the asses of a whole barful of dudes.

With less than an hour to go to last call, Jake’s senses picked up on a vibe they did not need. As if on cue, Cecil missed a chord – Cecil never missed a chord unles…yeah…Jake spotted Emily working her way through the tight crowd to the stage front. Shit, that was all they needed. She had it bad for Cecil and damn if he wasn’t starting to sniff after her as well. This was, sure as hell, a complication they could do without. Chicks always dicked up a good thing. Jake winced as Cecil totally lost the riff he was on and barely recovered.

Before Jake could rein his partner in, things got hinky fast! In her zeal to get to the front, Emily had pushed some blonde a bit harder than necessary and that got her man all worked up. He took up his woman’s defense and shoved Emily flat on her ass. Jake was fast…damned fast but he’d been sitting and C Emily flat on her ass. Jake was fast...orked up. He took up his woman'nt, Emily had pushed some blonde a biecil was pissed! Stuffing his sticks into his back pocket, he leapt off the stage and into the crowd just as Cecil parted the boyfriend’s hair (and his skull) with the Gibson. Yeah, their nights at the Rox were done for, Jake grinned, as he bared his fangs and waded into the fray.

This story was written for the weekly Mid-Week Blues Buster flash fiction writing challenge and is loosely based on the song Howlin' For You by the Black Keys

1 comment:

  1. "Chicks always dicked up a good thing." is one of those lines other writers desperately wish they'd written. Namely, me. Also, the grin in the last sentence feels brilliant.