Punk was a strange kind of music. It was a wonder anyone liked it. Not many people that called themselves punk musicians could actually play an instrument. Dimitri was not one of them.
He could play six instruments, not including the one in his throat. He was a master of many musical styles, as he should have been. He studied for five years about music. He just preferred to play punk music. There was nothing wrong with the way it sounded.
He didn't think so, his band didn't think so, and his fans didn't think so. Usually Dimitri stood center stage, but that night he felt like stepping out of the limelight and letting Steve sing. He couldn't take the spotlight all the time.
That night, he was dressed up, he always was for a gig. "Dressed up" meant that he was wearing jeans that weren't as ripped and a tshirt that wasn't stained. Dimitri, being the poor musician type, didn't have enough money to waste on clothes
Cheap Motel, the band, was doing a gig down at their favourite club. Dimitri sat back on drums and pounded out a beat for the other guys to follow. Sweat dripped from his black hair, and he closed his ice-blue eyes. He felt the music, not played it.
He had no idea what he was playing... he didn't know how far into the set they were... nor did he know what came next. When he played, he lost all sense of that. Maybe that was the reason he only really played this club and a few others around town.
He heard the other instruments stop, so he followed suit. There was a lot of applause. He loved it. The other members of Cheap Motel started packing up their instruments. He decided that he was supposed to get off stage, so he did. He didn't want to stop playing.
On his way up to the bar, the man pounded out a beat on a vacant table. Once he reached the bar, he stuck the drumsticks in his pocket and sat down. "Hey," he said to whoever was supposed to be working the bar, "Can I get a scotch on the rocks?" he asked.
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"Hey there, sexy." A low, guttural voice asked from down the counter.
Oh great, he hasn't even had a drink and I've already got means for sexual harassment. Thought Charlotte Lemmings, twenty-five year old owner of the Punk'n'Perk club and bar. Sure, she was a bit join to own her own place, but with the happenin' scene that showed up here regularly, and when you didn't use that college fund, what better to do than to buy a bar? Plus, really, if you didn't get into one of those good "art and design" universities, an aspiring computer animation major was not highly ranked on the list of jobs..
So here she was, dressed in a pair of faded lightly blue jeans that came with the whole in the knee and rips up her thighs, a pair of high-top chucks, and a dark halter that had some design that resembled a circus posters from the thirties. Her highlighted auburn hair was piled in a messy bun behind her head, so that it wouldn't stick to her neck and back at times like these when things got sweaty.
"Yessir, what can I get for you tonight?" She asked, while twirling some other bottle of liquor before sticking the nose into a shot glass and setting it on the bar.
"Just a Corona for now." The man winked at her. Ugh, slim ball she thought, wanting to hurl the glass bottle at him, but instead popping the cap off and sliding it, before picking up some money left on the counter and shoving it into the cash register.
It was amazing how much profit the guys brought in despite their still unsigned label. They were gonna make it big, that she had always told Steve, the man who had the mic for tonight. She and him had had a bit of a past. In high school, which seemed a bazaar amount of time ago, they had been quite a thing. Even afterwards they were still tight though Steve wanted to go study music at some big shot college, and Charlie was done with school and all things surrounding it. But finding each other again on the streets of "nowhere", they liked to call it, rekindled a bit of a flame.
That's how Cheap Motel had landed a gig at the small club. Now, Steve and Charlie were still on good terms, however, not googling over each other during breaks, and that's why the guys still played at the Punk'n'Perk. Plus, all the anarchist druggies followed in the band's path. And everyone knows that anarchist druggies love their booze. And their drugs...
Charlie spotted a line of white powder on her bar. "'Ey!" She shouted at the male rolling up a receipt, I told you to leave that shit in the alley, 'member. I don't want no more trouble with the cops!" She took the nozzle of the sink that had one of those spraying faucets, and washed the counter and the drugs off, getting complaints from the snorter, but it was better than getting shut down.
As the room erupted into applause, she was a bit late on the reaction, but joined in clapping, buzzing around taking orders and fixing drinks. It was packed tonight, and so she had three other members on staff checking tables and things she couldn't tend to while at bar, but a familiar voice snapped her out of the "pay attention to everything, but no one" trance.
"Dimitri!" She called out in a friendly,welcoming voice. "The songs aren't the same without you rockin' the riffs as lead." Charlie nodded, making small talk while preparing his drinks. "Why'd you do drums tonight?"
"Was in a drummer's kinda mood tonight I guess," Dimitri said. A warm smile lit up his face. "I think that tomorrow I'll bring my fiddle," he added.
Charlie and Dimitri got along quite well, he thought. She wasn't bad looking either, which probably helped. Dimitri was a little shallow, but he liked it that way. He was much more likely to talk to the smoking hot babe at the bar than the mousey one sitting in the corner. He probably wouldn't even notice the latter.
"Then you'll get a real taste of punk, eh?" He said, laughing. "The band's been practicing a few songs that I can accompany them on.. with my various instruments. They're all really growing." he said over the noisy din of the bar.
"How are things in the bar tonight?" he asked, grinning and still waiting for his drink.
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"A fiddle?" She asked, her dark brow raising in question. "I don't think I would have ever guess the fiddle to be one of your 'six instruments'." Charlie shrugged and passed the glass with his scotch and ice.
"You say that like a fiddle in a punk band is original. I can name at least three bands right here, right now, that've already done that!" She said, sliding across the bar to make some change for some body and pull out another beer for the guy who had come in as a sober drunkard.
"Les'see. Mischief Brew, Against Me! and Dropkick Murphys, all have fiddles. So, if you are going to brag about something ,dude, you better make it good. And if your little southern twang makes any of this drunks leave, I'll personally entertain them by smashing it over your head." She said with a laugh. Most of the people knew that she could defend herself if she needed, (duh, she owned a bar and there was a bat under the sink), but usually she was pretty peaceful and generally a pacifist.
She verbally grumbled, and flicked her head to the side, getting her bangs to lay across her forehead rather than in her eyes. "I've never seen it so busy. You guys are really started to draw a crowd." She nodded, "I'll be right back," she reassured him before being called away yet again to make something or another.
Dimitri chuckled. "Yeah, they're all crap at the fiddle though," he touched his finger to the side of his nose. "Plus, I don't play twangy, shitty fiddle. I play Irish traditional, there is a major difference." He grabbed his drink and sipped it. He wanted to do something... anything. Sitting around was not his kind of evening.
"Okay," he said to her before she left.Dimitri watched her walk away before looking down at his drink. He sighed and took another sip of his drink. What was the rest of the band doing? Dimitri looked around him. None of them were near. Dimitri seemed to be the only one of them that didn't actually shoot up any kind of drug. As the rest of the band members said: "It was only a matter of time..."
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"Oh please, Dimitri, don't be so modest." She replied sarcastically. "And pssh, you say this to a person who knows just as much music as you do." The ring around her lip wiggled back and forth as she slid over it with her tongue. "Are you guys done with your set or can I save myself on the electric bill and turn the sound stuff off?" She questioned as she passed by. Some one on the other end of the bar was now biding for her attention.
"Anyways," She managed, returning to the band member. She leaned against the bar, and ran a hand through the strands of hair that had fallen from her do. 'I need to hire more staff, either that or you guys need to go somewhere else. Not saying you should. I like the income, this is just ridiculous though. That, and kids are trying to bring shit in here." She sighed, "Hell, during that last song, some dude was trying to snort right off the damn counter!" Charlie exclaimed. "If this place gets shut down I swear, I'm gonna call up some friends in the mafia. No joke." Charlie was known to have friends in high places, and no one had ever attempted to piss her off to the point of proving this little item or not.
Dimitri shrugged. "I can't do anything about what our music does to these kids," he said, almost defensively. "I am not sure we could find another place to play anyway..." Dimitri finished his drink and set it down on the table. He reached for his wallet and pulled out some money, more than enough to pay for the drink. "If you need help around here, I wouldn't mind picking up some stuff to do, you know other than the usual sitting around and drinking." he chuckled.
Dimitri looked at the stage once more. He didn't think that the other members of the band would be back too soon. Dimitri put the bill he pulled out of his wallet underneath his glass. "I'll go shut the sound system off," he said. "Gotta pack up the instruments anyway."
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"And that's why you are stuck with me." Charlie responded to his couldn't find another play comment. She was doing them a big favor. Heck, if anything, half the guys in the band owed her more money than she could count.
Especially Steve, the bar tender could not count on all her fingers and all her toes how many times that kid had to bunk at her place during college, 'cause he was up to his neck in debt. That, and he spent all his money in the alley between the bar and the convenient store. As far as she knew, all the members of Cheap Motel, were high as a kite by now, except Dimitri. That's why her light green eyes watched him as he went to pack up his stuff.
"Hey," she called after the dark-haired male, "if you offer, I'm going to put you to work!" She called after him. She needed all the help she could get; usually at this time, after the music stopped, and people got bored, the insults and the fists start flying. Another sigh escaped her lips, as she tapped her chin, distracted for just a moment watching him. Then suddenly a call snapped her back into reality, and she took the money and stuffed it down her shirt, and flipped the glass upside and rested it in the dishwasher.
By the time Dimitri finished packing up all their stuff and putting it back in the van they had brought, it was almost time for last call. He wanted to go over and hang out with Charlie some more, but she looked busy. Dimitri sighed. He went to find Steve and the others: Chris, Aaren, and Leigh. All guys, and all high by then.
Dimitri went to the bathroom. They had obviously moved on from that location. They had been in he alley, of course. Where else would they be shooting up heroine and snorting cocaine. Bad combination of drugs, if you asked Dimitri.
"Oi, Steve," he called as he laid eyes on the four of them. "Oi, the gear is all packed up."
Steve looked at him and chuckled, almost falling off the disease-ridden armchair he sat in. Why was there an armchair in an alleyway to begin with? he asked himself. Questions about alleyways never really did need to be answered. He never really wanted them to be anyway.
"You lot are insufferable," Dimitri said, storming off. "I need a drink," he added as he went inside.
Dimitri ventured back to the bar, a little angrier than before. "Hey Charlie, can I get a drink?" he asked.
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That kid, so did not mean he was really willing to put some elbow grease into entertaining himself. Charlie thought as she kept en eye on Dimitri. Sure he'd put some time and effort into cleaning up after their gig, but that was a musician's life.. Until they got famous and made enough to pay bouncers and groupies, and roadies to do absolutely everything for them. She made a decent income, maybe she should get a bouncer. NO! She was getting distracted, some one was ordering a vodka and tonic with a lime. She turned to prepare the drink, attempting to get her focus back.
A small sigh escaped her pale lips as she caught a glimpse of him disappearing into the bathroom. Sure, he could be answering nature's call, but she doubted that. And he hadn't had nearly enough to drink to get his stomach going to make anything come out of the other end. Why? Why did her club have to be in the middle of Druggie-ville? Sure, she'd tried some stuff, she was in the middle of Druggie-ville and had friends in all kinds of places. But that had never appealed to her. She stuck to body mutilation and a couple of skinnies here and there. She had multiple tattoos and quite of few piercings, but nothing that could screw her life over. Face it, for a kid that didn't make it to college, and barely made it through high school, she was doing well.
After calling "last call" and passing out and tallying up tabs, she perked up to see Dimitri back. Surely he hadn't been out there long enough to get himself high as a kite. Then again, it took nearly a second for the needle to get all of its poison into a blood stream, and even less if he snorted something. "Yeah, of course, another scotch on the rocks? You look like you might need something stronger." She nodded sympathetically. The last couple of people wandered to the bar with bloodshot eyes and fistfuls of cash, before stumbling through the door. "Hey, Dimitri," Charlie called, between flitting to and fro, "I'm about to close, and you look like you need something to do. So, wanna catch a bite to eat with me? There's a twenty-four hour dinner that's pretty decent around the block..."
Dimitri smiled. "Something stronger, yeah. To drown out the screaming in my head," He sighed. "I just had to refrain from killing my bandmates. They're out there shooting up, wasting their lives." He sighed and looked down at his hands. "Disgusting habit," he said. He was the one who smoked cigarettes like a chimney... and drank like a fish. He sighed once more.
Dimitri was taken aback by her offer. "Sure, I do need something to take my mind off... You know," he said. "You want me to help clean up the tables and stuff first?" he asked, smiling. How could she ever stand being with Steve? Was she around when he was high? Did she think it was insufferable? all these questions ran through his head. He had no answers. He wanted to know them at some point though. He stood up and started picking up pieces of trash and empty cups left all over the place.
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A sad smile crept over Charlie's features. She mixed him something a bit harder than his usual scotch and slid the small shot down the counter to him. "Alcohol won't make that screaming stop." She said in a small voice, there were only a few people left, and the only reason they were left was because they were too drunk to walk straight and she had taken their keys. "It just makes it quieter for a while, then it comes back even worse, that's why most of these kids get caught up with drugs." There was a dark sadness behind her words as her eyes drifted downwards.
"Believe me, Dimitri, I know." She said with a smirk of a smile, that was only half there. "Anyways, it'd be a huge help if you wiped them down, looks like Amy and Patrick took off, and Sean's out back taking the trash." Charlie shrugged. "I just need to tally up the totals, get the glasses in the washer, and make a few calls for these fella's then we'll be right out." There was a bit more of her usual spunk as she distracted herself from the sad realization of the band's free time. With that, she turned to the hanging telephone and dialed the familiar number and made arrangements for the drunkards to get home via taxi.
Dimitri helped wipe doen the tables and grabbed any and all trash he saw. When he was through with that, he lifted the chairs and set them on top of the table. He had been there so many times afterhours, he knew her routine. He knew what had to be done. He helped the best be could.
--
Dimitri tapped his ring on the side of the table in a rhythm. He looked up at Charlie. They say in a small diner just around the corner from the bar. Dimitri had never been there before. He had no idea what he was going to get to eat, though he did know that it would be fabulous. He tried to think of something to say to Charlie. He wanted to ask her a question. Get them talking... no matter what the subject.
Dimitri sighed, and drank the iced tea the waitress had brought for him. "I have kind of an odd question," he said looking Charlie straight in the eyes, which he almost never did. He was so used to looking down, he never bothered to stare at someone in the eyes. In fact, it made him very uncomfortable to do so.
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Charlie had ordered a diet coke from the waitress. Her name was something like Amanda or something like that, she wasn't really paying attention. All she knew was that she briefly recognized Dimitri and Charlie from the bar. Probably some chick who'd been to one of the shows, or a friend of Amy or Sean's. That's who she usually came with, not the guys from the band.
Her head tilted to the side, she wasn't used to talk to Dimitri one on one, he had been one of the guys that she didn't interact with much. She never knew exactly why. There wasn't anything wrong with him. In fact, he was probably the most decent of them all, despite a bit of a chip on his shoulder. "Yeah... What's up?" She allowed, wondering what was on his mind.
Dimitri sighed. His mind was still on Steve and the rest of the band out in the allwyway, getting high. He wasn't sure he wanted to bring them up, but he had already opened his big fat mouth. He sighed. "Well, I don't want to trudge up any bad memories or anything.. but did Steve do drugs while you two were together?" he asked. He couldn't remember a time when Steve hadn't done drugs. He took a sip from his iced tea.
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The sordid tale of the Punk'n'Perk, [Schmitty and Artemis] Mature
