“What does your jacket say?” asked one of the other guys. I wasn’t up on my MCR knowledge and I didn’t honestly know who he was.
“Outlaw Souls.” Our logo was a pair of angel wings and over it was a pair of handcuffs where the halo would have been.
“You’re an MC?”
“Yeah.” We were approaching the door to the stage. I was going to keep going a bit to get to the audience level.
“We’re in MCR,” said another guy.
“Practically the same thing,” said the fourth and they all laughed.
“Well, thanks for watching out for us. We appreciate it,” Gerard said.
“It’s the least I could do. My sister is convinced you’re going to marry her someday.” Nevermind the fact that Gerard was in his forties and already married and had a kid.
“Aw. That’s sweet.” He then took the hair tie out of his hair and gave it to me. “Give this to her. I’d sign it, but… you can’t really sign a hair tie and that’s all I have.” It was black leather and said MCR.
Lily was definitely going to freak out. “This will mean a lot to her, thanks.” I stuffed the hair tie in my jacket.
The door to the stage opened and we could hear Billie thanking the audience. The lights would come up and it would be my opportunity to check on Lily and Bailey without them knowing I was there.
Twenty-Four
Paige
I couldn’t help it, but I kept watching the clock. The romantic mood of earlier had dissipated and I just felt edgy and anxious. Was it all the stuff with Ryder? Was my gut instinct telling me to slow down with him? Maybe wait before jumping into bed?
I honestly couldn’t tell. It was about 9pm and I imagined the main performance would be starting about now. My apartment felt really stuffy and I wanted to get out of here. But I really didn’t have anywhere to go. The girls would be home by midnight and I didn’t want to spend the money on a movie or anything. I didn’t really have any friends and my parents lived too far away. And they thought I was at the concert with Bailey.
I’d spent about an hour fleshing out a business idea that I wanted to run by my dad, but it would have to wait.
There was nothing on TV either. Why the hell did we pay for 400 TV channels when there was never anything on other than Guy Fieri, news, sports, or movies from 2002?
Turning it off, I grabbed my car keys. Maybe I’d head out to Southgate Martinez and pick up some snacks for the girls to have tonight when they got home. If their concert experience was anything like mine was, they’d definitely have the munchies when they got back.
* * *
Since Southgate wasat the intersection with Tiny’s on one corner, the Blue Dog Saloon on another, and the gas station on the third corner, I had a good view of everything going on. Tiny’s was closed, as a lot of our customers were senior citizens and it wasn’t cost-effective to stay open past 8:00 pm. The Blue Dog was pretty empty too, probably because the Outlaw Souls were doing security for the concert. It was just a quiet Saturday night in the ‘hood.
As I was walking inside, my phone buzzed. The caller ID said it was my mom, but I knew I couldn’t answer the phone because she thought I was at the concert. I sent her to voicemail and then walked in the store.
All of the signage in the entire store was in Spanish. I’d taken it in high school, but really didn’t know it very well. If I were going to stay in this community, I should probably learn it, I figured.
Grabbing a cart, I made my way through the bakery, successfully avoiding the delicious-looking pan dulce and other pastries. What would they like? Maybe I’d get something sweet and something savory. I swung back and picked up two bright pink sweet breads, a package of cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and headed over to the tortilleria to grab the ingredients for soft tacos.
“Hola. Como estas?” I turned around and this guy was standing way too close to me. He smelled like beer and weed, and his greasy hair was slicked back in an attempt to look cool. But I could see flecks of dandruff.
He was way too close, so I took a step back and gave him that social nod thing and kept walking.
“No habla espanol? You don’t speak Spanish?” He was following me, holding a thirty-two ounce bottle of beer.
I really didn’t want to talk to him so I just ignored him and kept walking. He didn’t give up and kept following me.
“What’s the matter, blondie? You think you’re too good to talk to a cholo?”
“Look. I’m just trying to do some shopping here. Why don’t you go do the same?”
“You bitches are all the same.” He shook his head and muttered something in Spanish as he walked toward the register.
