"Ethan! Wake up, man! We need to get on the road!" Seth shook his bandmate, finally deciding to just slap him a couple times with the pillow, safely tucked in a green and black plaid pillowcase.
Ethan flipped off the covers, swung his legs over the bed, and stood up, stretching his long, muscular arms to the sky. He had green eyes and shaggy blonde hair. Brushing his bangs out of his eyes, he pulled on a plain white shirt, grabbed his guitar and he and the boys walked out of the apartment and onto the tour bus. Their first gig was at a club in Jersey. Tony, the owner, said it was called Fret It.
Tim had the first shift at driving. Seth, Ethan, and Brian sat on the edges of their beds, tuning guitars, checking the microphone, and banging drumsticks around anything that was immobile.
After three more shifts, the guys arrived at Fret It. Sneaking in the back, they quickly set the stage to play. Brian peeked through the curtains.
"There are about one hundred people out there, guys. Are you sure we're ready for this? This is our first real gig." he said.
Ethan shrugged. "Let's make the most of it. You ready?"
The guys nodded. Tony got on the stage, clapping his hands wildly. "Are you ready for..." he paused for effect. "KILLER VORTEX!!!!!"
They took their places in front of the screaming girls and already drunk old men who only came for the beer.
"Are you ready to ROCK tonight, Jersey?" Tim's voice boomed through the speakers. In response to the question, he got a hundred screams and about a million claps. He nodded to Brian to start drumming. Brian nodded to Seth. And Seth to Ethan.
Tim wrapped his hands around the microphone stand, serenading to his first real audience. "Take me out tonight, baby. Make it quick, it's getting hazy. Oh, take me out tonight. Make my dreams come true and I'll give back to you."
Two hours later, after the band had played three encores, the boys went backstage, wiping beads of sweat from their foreheads with the mini towels Tony supplied.
"That was amazing!" Seth shouted. The boys bodied slammed each other, their way of showing pride.
Ethan wasn't celebrating, though. He saw someone--a woman--across the room. Her tiny hands fumbled with the lens cap of her Nikon 360 camera. She slipped it into her bag, slung it over her shoulders, and walked out of the club. Ethan ran after her.
