12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Lou

The only thing worse than letting Stella pick out my outfit? Letting Stella pick out my costume.

That’s right. Costume. As in material worn to resemble someone else. As in showing up to the first club event looking like a rocker chick from the eighties. I don’t even want to know where Stella found our matching leather pantsuits. Or how much hair spray is currently holding my ‘fro in place.

The one thing I do know is I’m going to need scissors to get these pants off by the end of the night. Oh, and about a pound of conditioner if I ever want to thinkabout brushing my hair again.

“Oh my gosh, they went all out!” Stella’s excited squeal cuts through my thoughts as we approach the bar hosting the club opener. Banners have been hung outside the entrance, loudly blaring PUNK ROCKERS WELCOME! on either side of the door. Students stream into the building, all wearing various degrees of costume. Most are sporting a leather jacket or vintage concert shirt of some kind, while others are in full rockstar mode: big hair, tight pants, and lots of eyeliner.

For a minute I forget I am one of the wannabe rockers until the bouncer compliments Stella’s leather-clad efforts.

“Not many people can pull off matching pantsuits, but you ladies do it well.” Passing back our IDs, Stella grabs them and throws him a wink in response. I would say he’s around our age, but the dark sunglasses make it hard to tell. Anywhere between twenty and forty is probably a safe bet.

“Is it legal for bouncers to hit on patrons?” I muse the question out loud as we walk into the crowded bar.

“The better question is, who here is hot enough to make you commit a felony tonight?” Before I have a chance to respond, Stella gasps and pulls me to a halt.

“Do you think that’s where we karaoke?!” Sucking in breath to brace myself, I follow her pointed finger to a stage with smoke machines whirling and The Killers blasting over massive speakers. A lone microphone stands smack in the centre of the raised platform with a single spotlight beaming directly on to it. I look back at Stella, her eyes glowing with excitement, and swallow the bile rising in my throat.

“I certainly hope not. Those smoke machines are definitely a health hazard.” Stella laughs at my comment and pulls me to a nearby table.

Thankfully it’s an empty table; I don’t feel ready to start socializing just yet. Between the costumes, the stage, and the crowds milling around everywhere; saying I feel overwhelmed feels like a gross understatement.

Puffing the permed hair out of my eyes, I stare down at the table and focus on taking deep breaths. Karaoke doesn’t start for another hour, and worse comes to worst, no one is going to recognize me in this getup.

A small hand slides across the table and grasps my fingers. Jumping in surprise, I look up to see Stella smiling reassuringly at me.

“You are doing great, Lou. I am so proud of you.” Continuing to breath past the panic gripping my throat, I give her hand a squeeze.

“What did I do to deserve you?” She grins, nodding playfully towards my outfit.

“You willingly put on a leather pantsuit. I’ve had a wedgie for the last hour, but I think I’ve played it cool.” I burst out laughing.

As far as comfort goes, Stella’s costume choice is severely lacking. Not only is the leather tight, it’s also shockingly hot. And as more students pile into the tight quarters, the temperature inside and outside my pants continues to increase.

Suddenly, Stella shifts uneasily in her seat, her gravity-defying hair still managing to hit her low back. “I should probably tell you…” Her words get cut off when an Axl Rose impersonator walks on stage. Cheers erupt from the crowd and despite the nerves cursing through my system, I feel a zing of excitement.

“Well, isn’t this a good-looking crowd!” More cheers break out. Unsurprisingly, the rowdiest section appears to be coming from the bar.

“First off, I want to thank all of you for coming to Punk Rockers’ first official club event. We love having you here and we hope you love being here. And what better way to kick off the season than with some friendly competition?” Whoops and shouts scatter across the crowd. I sneak a glance at Stella and see her attention wholly invested on stage. As soon as the word competition was dropped, I should have known we’d be in for the long haul.

Chuckling to himself, the MC shakes his head. “Keep this energy up folks and we are in for a fun night. Alright, first up we got a little punk trivia, top three winners will win prizes, after that we got our costume contest – phew, even from here I can see some fierce contenders.” He pauses, sweeping his eyes purposefully over the crowd. “And as always, we will finish the night with the fan favourite… dance karaoke!” I look at my roommate in horror as the room erupts into applause for the fifth time in the last five minutes.

“Dance karaoke?” I squeak out the words as Stella vibrates in her seat in anticipation.

“We got this, Lou. Three for three, no problem.” My roommate’s competitive nature has already taken over her mind and left me stranded. Guess it’s time to sink or swim.

“Alright, trivia is first, so we need to find the sheets…” Stella’s sentence trails off, her mouth dropping open. I whirl in my seat, searching for the object that’s left my talkative roommate speechless.

“What? What is it?” Stella finally closes her mouth and gulps visibly.

“Not what, Lou. Who.” My gaze scans the nearby tables, trying to not laugh at the ridiculous amount of eyeliner both men and women are currently rocking.

As a familiar blonde fauxhawk comes into view, I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. Stella is ogling none other than her sworn nemesis, Mr. Caveman Cody. The lacrosse captain appears to be wearing a biker jacket of some sort, the black leather stretching tight against his broad shoulders and trailing into a pair of worn-out jeans.

He looks like he should be on the cover of a Ducati magazine.

“I think you’ve found your partner in crime.” My reference to her earlier comment has Stella sticking her tongue out at me.

“I didn’t invite Cody for me, silly.” I wrinkle my nose in confusion.

“What are you talking about? I thought you were still giving Caveman the silent treatment.” Stella turns her attention to her nails, purposefully avoiding my gaze.

“Right. Well, that kind of ended a couple days ago when I asked Cody if he could get Wes to come tonight.” I stare at her incredulously.

“And why would you want Wes to come tonight?” The thought that Stella might be into Wes crosses my mind, but I immediately shoot down the idea. After the few weeks I’ve gotten to know my roommate, this has her matchmaker schemes written all over it.

Stella sighs with defeat, “I wanted him to come for you! You’ve been spending so much time together that I thought a night out would be a fun way to… get to know each other a little better. Or, you know, get absolutely wasted and play a game of tongue tag.” My brows knit together as Stella gives me a pleading look.

“Please don’t be mad, Lou. Joking aside, you always seem at ease whenever Wes is around. I just thought you might enjoy tonight more if he was here. That’s it, that’s all.” I continue to eye her suspiciously as Cody approaches our table.

“I grabbed enough trivia forms for everyone. Are you ladies having fun so far?” Cody does a double take of our outfits, eyes fixating on Stella’s leather ensemble. He lets out a low whistle, “If I’d realized how fierce the costume contest was going to be, I would have agreed to twin with Wes.”

Stella scoffs and tosses her mane of hair, “I doubt that would have been enough.” Cody lets out a laugh, his eyes never leaving Stella’s perfectly made-up face. I stand on my tip toes, peering over the mountain of shoulders in front of me.

“Where is the all-star rookie, anyways?” I ignore the knowing look Stella trades with Cody and continue my scan of the bar.

She said so herself: Wes makes me feel comfortable. So, the fact that I am excited to see my friend does not warrant a silent conversation with Mr. Caveman over there. And as for the tongue tag comment, that was completely off-side, I don’t know how many times I have to tell Stella there is nothing going on between…

“Words cannot say how much it warms my heart to hear you say that Trip.” Stella’s eyes widen as she takes in the presence behind me. I force the smile creeping over my face into a scowl and whirl around, retort ready on the tip of my tongue.

“Who said I was talking about…” My response disappears and suddenly I’m the one visibly gulping.

Wes

“Are you… are you wearing eyeliner?” The question comes from Stella, who is looking dynamite in her skin-tight pantsuit and frizzed out platinum hair, while Trip continues to gawk at me.

“Sure am. Last time I checked, Billie never performs without it.” My response is directed at Trip, hoping she will catch my reference. My costume is, after all, inspired by her love of punk bands.

From the charcoal around my eyes, gelled spikes in my hair, and black dress shirt / red tie combo; I was going for the lead singer of one of her favourite bands. Well, I don’t actually know if Green Day is one of her favourites, but given they were featured on her t-shirt the other day, I figured it would be a safe bet. Taking in the stricken expression on her face, however, I’m starting to worry I was wrong.

“Billie?” Stella is not helping the situation. I can feel my costume confidence decreasing by the second. Next time I’m bleaching my hair and going as Machine Gun Kelly. Bet she wouldn’t forget him too.

“He’s the lead singer of Green Day.” Saving the day, Trip breaks out of her trance and pats her roommate on the arm. “I’m afraid Green Day doesn’t run in the same circles as One Direction.” Not even attempting to dissect that sentence, I feel relief rush through me. My effort was not in vain.

Stella shakes her head solemnly, “The world would be a much brighter place if everyone appreciated One Direction.” I raise my glass in toast while Trip rolls her eyes. I hide my smirk, secretly pleased I am not the only one who causes that reaction.

Remembering my duties as Cody’s wingman, I quickly pull out the chair next to Trip, forcing Cody to take the one next to Stella. Not my most subtle tactic, but efficient, nonetheless. Stella instantly turns and starts talking to my captain while Trip reaches for the closest trivia sheet.

Having my own costume identity crisis averted, I shift to get a better view of Trip’s fit for the night. 80s style curls bounce along her shoulders as golden highlights tease their way through Trip’s otherwise dark hair colouring. The skin-tight pantsuit appears to be identical to that of Stella’s, but damn do they wear it differently. Trip’s subtle curves are embraced to their fullest, the black leather stretching tight over her rack and emphasizing her slender frame. Her eyes are as heavily made-up as my own – tragic comparison, I know – with some extra sparkly powder glittering at the corners.

She looks like every guy’s leather clad dream.

Sliding the questionnaire over, Trip’s eyes flick to mine, and the swirling shades of grey seem to call my name.

“Alright, rockers let’s get this show on the road! Does everyone have trivia questions in front of them?” Tearing my gaze from the vision beside me, I turn my attention to the MC walking back on stage.

“To make sure everyone has a fighting chance, I am giving you two minutes to google as many answers as possible. Once those two minutes are up, it will be whichever table yells out the answers the fastest. Everyone understand?” I cheer along with the rest of the bar. “Perfect. Phones out, web browsers ready… and go!”

Everyone at our table scrambles to pick up their phones.

“Alright team, listen up. If we do this systematically, we can cover more ground.” Ever the leader, Cody starts delegating questions to each of us. “Stel, you’ve got the first section, Trip the one after that, and Wes and I will handle the last one. Got it?” We all nod in unison, jumping into virtual action.

In a screen lit blaze of glory, my fingers fly over the keyboard, pounding question after question into my search engine. Time flies and before I know it, the buzzer sounds, putting an end to our google venture. Leaning back in my chair, I shake out my fingers, giving them a well-deserved stretch. Trip sees my cool-down exercise and raises an eyebrow.

“How many did you find?” Giving a modest shrug, I casually throw out my number.

“Five and a half. I’ve been told my ability to type fast is uncanny.”

A second eyebrow raises to meet the other, teeth coming down to bite on her bottom lip. I narrow my eyes, completely ignoring the way her lips look in that dark red lipstick and address the reason behind her not-so-hidden smirk.

“How many did you find?” Trip’s attempt to hide her smug smile fails and a sly grin breaks across her face.

“Seven.” I gape at her, unable to process how she managed to crush my typing reputation andvacuum all the air out of my lungs with just one smile.

“I found five.” Cody’s voice interrupts my spiralling thoughts while Stella cackles with glee. “Eight for me. I win, losers.” Chuckling, Cody shakes his head while Trip leans over to give her roommate a high five.

I frown good-naturally, “If we’re all on the same team, doesn’t that mean we all win?”

“Sure does, Billie. But now we know who’s the most valuable player on the team.” Stella blows me a kiss and I pretend to bat it away midair.

“Down to the final two teams. Now to make this round a little more exciting, we are going to get the teams to go head-to-head. Can I get the Lavishing Leather Ladies and the Punk Ponies to the front of the stage please?” The bar breaks into applause as our table stands up and walks towards the stage. Our rival table in the far corner gets up to join us. Throughout the trivia game, the Punk Ponies had easily kept up with our Google-searched knowledge, and sadly, some of their players were as enthusiastic as Stella. You would think Stella shouting our answers from atop of a bar stool would be hard to beat, but somehow the Ponies managed. We couldn’t see their table from our vantage point, but I would bet someone got up on the bar to match Stella’s energy.

We line up along the elevated platform, facing the opposing team. I can feel Trip twitching anxiously beside me, so I reach down and grab her hand for support. I hear her breath catch as I thread her fingers through my own, giving them a reassuring squeeze. She squeezes back and a warm feeling envelops my chest. Maybe I’ve convinced Trip I’m not so bad after all.

The MC hops down from the stage and stalks between both teams. Up close, his blonde wig is a lot less impressive, but you’ve got to give the guy kudos for the Guns N’ Roses tattoo covering his forearm. It shows true commitment to the cause.

“Alright rockers, who is ready for the speed round?” He throws both hands in the air and the crowd goes wild. Trip shifts nervously beside me, her hand still in mine. I look at our other teammates and see Cody fighting a smile while Stella attempts to intimidate the opponents with her miniature stature. Shoulders boxed out, head held high, the girl barely hits 5’2 in those heels yet stares down our opponents as if she’s LeBron James going in for a dunk.

“I am going to read out three questions. The team that answers two correct wins. Everyone understand?” Everyone nods except Stella, who beats her fists against her chest warrior style. I bite back a laugh as the guy opposite her flinches. Guess he wasn’t expecting to go up against a mini-King Kong.

“Alright the first question is an easy one… Where was punk rock invented?”

“NEW YORK CITY!” The girl wearing fishnet stockings yells out the answer before I have time to process the question being asked.

“And a point goes to the Punk Ponies! Lavishing Leather Ladies, you better be careful. This next one could keep you in the game or knock you out.” Leaning forward, I put all my focus on the MC’s next words.

“Who is the father of punk rock?” Silence falls upon both teams as brain power kicks into overdrive. Flipping through my storage of useless information, I search for anything relating to rock. Hold on, back in high school we had to watch a documentary about…

“I got it! Joey Ramone.” The Axl impersonator nods in approval and Stella runs over to give me a high five. A grin the size of Mount Everest lights up my face, and Trip gives my hand a squeeze. There’s nothing like the rush of competition.

“And a point for the Lavishing Leather Ladies! Well done, young man.” Choosing to overlook the fact this guy can’t be more than two years older than me; I take the compliment. “Both teams are at one point with one question left. Are we ready to find a champion?” The bar erupts into cheers, drunk rockers wholly invested in our performance.

“Alright, last question…” I hold my breath and feel Trip do the same. “What defines punk rock?” My mind goes blank. Are angry teenagers a definition?

“Punk rock is often described as offensive expressions of alienation and social discomfort.” The crowd goes nuts, taking me a moment to register who the response came from. The question is answered when Stella runs over and wraps her roommate in a ginormous hug.

I look over at the duo in astonishment, partly for the mauling Trip is currently undertaking, but mostly for her feat of public speaking. Just a few weeks ago I was ushering Trip away from the chaos of rush week to comfort her, and now she’s bringing our team to victory in front of hundreds of people.

Meeting my eyes over Stella’s bouncing shoulders, Trip gives me a heart-stopping smile and mouths, any version I want to be.