After getting ready I looked into the mirror and shook my head. This wasn't going to fly where I was going, and it was too late to change. It would be an insult to cancel this soon to her podcast. I glanced around and smiled at the mirrored shades on my dresser. Ah, yes, if nobody could see my terrified eyes, I could fake it. Right?
I put them on and sighed. They didn't help one iota. I always look like a little girl playing dress up. And I have always been proud of the look, until just then. I'd be like chum in the water in a pool of sharks. The glasses gave me a cool factor though, right?
I said, right? Fine, whatever, just laugh it up.
My nerves were getting the better of me as I drove to the club. I was obsessing over that same question about if this was business or umm... not business. I wasn't her personal assistant anymore after all. She had hung up before I had the chance to ask or even agree. She had texted a bit later that she would leave my name at the door.
Curiosity was killing me either way though, as I really did want to see her do her thing live. When I got back to the states and discovered the local celebrity called Na Na Evermore who looked unmistakably like an old crush of mine, I followed her blog and podcasts out of nostalgia. I had always wondered if they were a big production like the news broadcasts or if they were as spontaneous and unrehearsed as she made them look.
She has this easy way with the camera, pulling you in and talking to you like you were old friends. Engaging you and making whatever she was sharing sound earnest, entertaining, and down right interesting.
I found a parking spot in the middle of the well lit lot. It was three-quarters full, not nearly as full and overflowing as the Ballyhoo across the street.
I paused to look at the line of women around that neon paradise. I keep meaning to visit the Ballyhoo. I was too young to go there before I left to Japan, and it has been on the top of my to-do list since I returned. It has the reputation of being the hottest lesbian dance club on the west coast.
I've been running myself ragged, trying to prove myself to the parent station since I came back, so haven't had the occasion to visit. That and if I'm to be truthful, I'm a little too nervous to go. I've never really felt comfortable going to bars or other hookup places.
Though I have had a few short-lived relationships that started at an anime or comic book convention or two, which burned hot and fast before fizzling. Hey, I'm human ok? I wiped the grin off my face from the memories as I walked past all the hardcore rockers and people from the punk scene as I headed straight to the door, past the line.
I'd normally show my press credentials to get into most places when the camera crew was shooting. This would be the first time my name was actually at the door anywhere. I endured the catcalls and wolf whistles and a few crude remarks as I passed by. I had to bite my tongue to stop a grin when one woman with pink stubbly hair slapped the back of her apparent boyfriend's head when he said something crude to me. She hissed at him, “What the fuck's wrong with you?”
I got to the door and the big bouncer manning the door with a clipboard, and bare arms with huge muscles which had bomb's tattooed on his biceps, looked down at me. He had half a dozen piercings on his brows and a shiny bald head. His brow was furrowed in a bit of concern as he glanced around quickly.
Then he bent down to me and asked under his breath, “This isn't the best place for someone like you to be hangin' around lil' darlin'. I think you want to be across the way there.” He nudged his clipboard toward the Ballyhoo. And the first couple guys in line with their heavy black makeup and ebony dyed hair made some crude noises, and one said, “Yeah, you'd feel more comfortable in the back seat of my car, baby.”
The doorman stood tall at that, towering over me, looming like a juggernaut as his eyes darkened and he jabbed his clipboard at the two. His voice was full of growling menace as he snapped out, “You and you. Off the premises. You're not getting in tonight. You give the rest of us a bad name, the Spartan has standards.”
Then he looked up at the line as he kicked one of the quickly retreating men in the butt. “That goes for everyone! Do I make myself clear?” There were fearful murmurs. They had the good sense to fear a man the size of Mount Fuji.
He looked back down at me, and the giant man softened. I shrugged and told him, “Nala... I mean, Na Na Evermore said my name would be at the door. Karmin Hughes.”
He blinked in shock and looked at me again then shrugged as he looked at the list. “You're with Na Na?” He looked impressed for a moment, then furrowed his brow. “I don't see your name on the list, would she have used another?”
I started to shake my head then froze. She wouldn't... would she? I whispered to him, and he leaned in close, then said to me, “What was that darlin'? I didn't catch that.”
I sighed and looked back, at the line, my cheeks burning before I turned back and asked louder, “Is there a Kitty K-Hue on the list?”
This got some chuckles from the crowd, and the big man double checked and gave me a big grin and nod in the affirmative.
He made an ushering motion and said with a genuine smile which belied the terrifyingly imposing stature of the man, “Go right in darlin'. If you get into any trouble in there, just call for Byron, and I'll come a runnin'.”
I smiled and nodded at him and offered a hand, his giant paw engulfed mine as I said, “Karmin. Not Kitty.” He nodded and then let me go. A moment later a girl with slicked back hair, wearing torn black clothes and chains, and a guy in matching gear were on either side of me, their arms around my waist in an almost possessive manner.
I blinked in surprise as the girl called out to a dubious looking Byron, “We're with Kitty here.”
Byron narrowed his eyes and looked at me as the woman hugged me closer, fluttering her eyes which were heavily accented with dark eyeliner. I shrugged and said, “Yes, they are with me.” He wasn't buying it, but he grinned and shooed us in with a nudge of his chin. I liked the big man.
As soon as we entered into a wall of sound inside, the couple released me, and the woman laughed wickedly and yelled out to me, “Rayna and Rick. Thanks, short stuff!” Then she gave me a quick peck on the cheek and a wink.
I gave a self-conscious little wave and said “Karmin,” before she grabbed her guy's hand and dragged him away and into the chaos of a punk rave.
She called back, “See you around.”
I giggled. I had just helped someone crash the gate. It felt bad in a good way. Then I looked around at the throng of rough looking characters all around me and my smugness faded. Then I chidingly reminded myself not to judge a book by its cover. I had already met three punkers tonight whom I liked. Byron, and my renegade kisser and her boy. And somewhere in this mass of bodies, was an overly sexy punker who was waiting on me.
Come on, this is business. You outgrew this crush almost a decade ago, Karmin. Yes, keep telling yourself that, baka.
I couldn't see a thing through the throng of bodies as a number finished and the crowd whooped and whistled in response. They were more raucous than the crowds at any other club or concert I have attended. It seemed that the culture in this club was more emotional and volatile. Like they fed off the energy of the room and each other.
It all seemed a little more honest to me than gatherings in other venues. But then again, isn't that the whole concept behind the punk community? Freedom of self-expression. A chance to just... be. There were actually a few groups in Japanese culture that shared those fundamental beliefs.
I admit to thinking that only rebellious and borderline violent individuals embraced the punk rock culture. But in this new light... is this why Nala chose to recreate herself in this world? So she could express her inner self that she had to keep locked up for so long, under the totalitarian thumb of her mother?
Huh...
I excused me and pardoned me through the crowd. Most didn't hear as the next act was setting up on stage. Then I saw a bubble cleared away in the middle of the throng of bodies. I recognized a couple
of Nala's posse who were keeping a space clear and I bit the tip of my tongue and smiled when I saw Nala in the middle of it all.
She was in full on Na Na mode, oozing charisma and confidence like a bonfire in the night that just drew me in. Her heat kept most people at arm's length as the guys aimed cameras at her, and those who got too close to the fire of hers, she shoved away bodily like she was a force of nature herself.
I was at a loss. My legs had forgotten how to move me forward as I stared at her in her element. She had tamed herself so much for the Seattle Evermore segment with her mocking reporter outfit. But here... Nala was not in the house, there in front of me was Na Na Evermore in all her glory, and she burned with the intensity of the sun. So wicked and so very desirable, with this touch of vulnerable cuteness that has made her a name in the industry.
Can you truly be struck dumb with awe? I was pretty sure you could as I watched her. She towered over most of the people around her, in her almost all black outfit. And those boots... I was feeling light headed. Oh crap, air! Breath in, breath out. I think that's how it is done.
Her hair was like a mane of black fire that seemed to swallow the light, and it moved like it had a mind of its own, towering above her, watching like some dark wraith, ready to strike. I knew what she hid beneath her collar, the tail of that magnificent mane.
I got control of my legs again when the hard driving music started up, and she started headbanging with the drums, I was being pulled forward, entranced by her hair thrashing side to side. My pulse was quickening, and I felt a fire inside that didn't want to be quenched, as my eyes refused to leave her.
My smile grew to a huge toothy grin as I heard her yelling into the cameras, “Welcome to another Evermore Plain Truth! Where I offer no bullshit, just...”
The people all around her, including me, all yelled out, “...the plain truth!”
She had that awesome self-assured, cocky smirk on her face as she nudged a thumb back and said, “Tonight I wanted to showcase the... musical... stylings...”
I froze as she trailed off when I realized her eyes were locked on me. She looked stunned, her mouth half open. She hesitated, a flicker of self-doubt crossed her face as I regained my motor control and started toward her as that shock was replaced with what I could only describe as hunger.
Like a pack of predators on the hunt, people moved between us, blocking my progress. Nala made a cutting motion across her neck, and the guys lowered their cameras as she called out, “Let her through.”
They parted, and I was feeling suddenly self-conscious. I still didn't know why I was here. Was it really to watch her do a podcast in her element. Was it as a friend? Was it something else?
She took two smooth steps up to me, and she took my hands which I was wringing at my waist, into hers, and she pulled me back to where she had been doing her podcast. Heat spread through me from our point of contact. Chibi me was throwing buckets of water on the flame inside to keep it under control before it singed her little cat ears.
Nala grinned at me then furrowed her brow. I froze yet again when she reached for my face with both hands, and she removed my mirrored glasses. I couldn't decipher the look she gave me, but I liked it. A lot.
She lowered her head beside mine and whispered, “Major? Really?” Her hot breath causing a thrill to run across my skin and down my spine in a delicious way.
I nodded, not knowing what to say, so offered meekly, “It was the only thing I had that would even remotely work here. To blend in.”
She had the seductive growl of a jungle cat in her voice as she said with a smirk, “And you certainly work it well.”
Oh lord, if she was a jungle cat, I suddenly felt like a rabbit. It was almost as she found me... desirable.
Then she grinned and stood taller as she asserted, “Why blend in when you were born to stand out?”
I was lost in her eyes, they held so much in them. Pain, hope, strength, and a fire that burned into me. When the woman on the stage started really shredding on her guitar, the moment was broken. I knew the ebony maned woman in front of me felt the same as she seemed to sigh and ask over the music, “Want to see how we do a podcast? It isn't as glamorous as your news crews, but...”
There was still that unmistakable heat between us, and I swallowed from the intensity of it. I gave her two thumbs up and encouraged her. “Do your best!”
She gave me that cocky smirk which she had carefully crafted just as much as the rest of her look, but it held something... else. Then I leaned back and grinned as she articulated in ways I wouldn't have thought of, just why the woman on stage, Pria, and her band, Steel Kissed needed the music world to sit up and take notice. I actually learned some interesting things about Punk and what she called Thrash Metal.
When she wound it down, she stepped aside, motioning her hand toward the stage and the two cameramen stepped up to get some footage of Pria on stage.
My grin was making my cheeks ache it was so big. Nala stuck her face in one camera, made a silly face that almost crossed into the adorable threshold and called out, “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna watch the rest of this performance, so this is Na Na Evermore signing off, I offer no bullshit, just...”
My eyes widened in excitement, and I yelled out with her and everyone around us, “The plain truth!” I wanted to giggle for some reason when she wiggled her eyebrows at me.
Then she laid an arm across my shoulders and pulled me almost possessively to her side. I was trying not to hyperventilate as I felt the heat of her body against mine and I caught a hint of that baby powder and leather conditioner scent that followed her everywhere she went.
She waved a hand around lackadaisically and called out to her posse, “Go forth mingle and prosper!” They all grinned and moved off, banging their heads to the next number from Steel Kissed's arsenal. I admit, punk is not my genre, but just from the things she said about it on camera, I had a new appreciation for it and sort of liked the driving music.
The next half hour was spent just talking over at one of the standing tables by the bar. That was odd, I couldn't see a single chair in the place, and the tables appeared to be bolted to the floor. She seemed intent on telling me about the post work that Spike would do on the raw footage they shot and how he'd have the podcast up before the sun came up.
She was almost babbling like she was unsure of herself and so was trying to be all business instead of addressing that searing heat between us from earlier which she had to have felt too. This was Nala now, not Na Na, and that made me smile that I could somehow make her just as nervous and self conscious as I was feeling around her.
I finally gathered up the nerve to attempt to ask what tonight was really about, when a guy with short stubbly pink hair, and a chain hanging from a nostril that connected to a piercing through his cheek, laid a hand roughly on my shoulder. “The fuck is a poser like you doin' here?”
I didn't even see her move. One moment Nala was on the opposite side of the table as me, the next moment she seemed to be stepping past the man. It was so fluid I almost missed it as she had pulled his leather vest up over his head from behind, covering his face and then she pulled back once, jerking him away from me just to trip backward over a foot she had planted behind him.
She called down to him as the music intensified as if the band saw what was happening and was drawing on and amplifying the chaos, “You shouldn't have touched my friend. Just walk away now.”
Then I knew why the tables were bolted down, and there were no chairs, as everyone around us started roaring and cheering as they backed off a bit. Pink Fuzz got up, stripping his vest off and throwing it roughly on the ground, roaring out, “You fuckin...”
He trailed off when he grabbed a nearby table and tried to yank it toward Nala, who was standing in a knife stance like I had seen at many dojos in Japan and more recently in that amazing kata dance she performed in the dance studio. That stance offered little target for an attack.
When the table didn't bu
dge, the guy just roared out in exasperation, balled his fists, then came at her. I was terrified, but the crowd seemed energized by the altercation. He swung at her, but she slapped it aside and slid in under his overextended arm, getting his arm in some sort of reverse armlock in the crook of her own arm, bending his arm back toward himself.
Then she shoved his hand twice, causing him to hit himself in the face, and she slid away and into a new stance. I realized she was keeping herself between him and me.
He touched his face and pulled his hand away to look at the blood on it from a nose which was clearly crookedly broken now. He growled, “I don't care who you are, Evermore. I'm going to kick your ass into next week for this.”
He hesitated when I felt as if the world closed in on us a bit. I glanced around and recognized the men and woman of Nala's posse all looming in close, stepping through the invisible ring the other punkers had made around us.
He sneered and spat out, “Sure, call in the calvary, bitch. Let them fight your fights for you.”
She shook her head and made a beckoning motion with her fingers. “They're just here to clean up the mess you make of yourself. You're the one fighting here, I haven't even started.”
He charged, swinging fists at empty air as she started to literally dance around him. He kicked at her, but she wasn't there. He bellowed in pain as his leg instead hit the table behind her. Then he tried to grapple, but she spun past and almost humorously made a show of pushing his back with one finger. It added just enough to his own momentum to overbalance him and send him tumbling into a column, face first with a hollow sounding thud.
My terror was turning into an almost morbid amusement. Pink Fuzz was bleeding and limping with a little hop as he stood. Nala was right, she hadn't even hit him once, he was doing all the damage to himself... with a little help from her of course.
But then everyone stopped when a huge shadow stepped up behind Nala. She froze and didn't look back as she squinted one eye in mock pain as she just said, “Ummm... hi Byron, how's tricks?”
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