Appleford, a small town in northern Washington. It doesn't have a lot going for it, but it's not a terrible place either. Generally just a fairly quiet place where not a lot happens. There's one high school, one McDonald's, and only the one music store. If you've lived here your whole life, the chances are that you know at least half of the relatively small population. Most kids leave after graduating high school, to find bigger better things out in the world. But some stay, preferring to keep to the quiet comfort that Appleford provides. Or maybe they just haven't figured out what they want to do yet. It's not a bad place to try to figure that out.

Marcus leaned against one of the tall bar tables that were scattered around the crowded club. He held a bottle of beer with both hands, idly peeling the label off with the bails of his thumbs. He was alone, looking out at the sea of people from behind the hair that covered most of his face. He recognised a lot of them, of course. It was a small town after all. But he didn't really know any of them. He wasn't close with many people, preferring to keep a small, tight-nit group of friends. Because of that, whenever they were out of town, which they currently were, he was left on his own. He normally wouldn't go out without his friends to act as a buffer between him and the unfamiliar, but his favourite band coming to town was worth fighting the social anxiety. It's a good thing he had two dear friends to help him with that. Alcohol and MDMA. He scanned the crowd of people, to make sure he had no one's attention, before deftly popping a pill in his mouth and washing it down with a mouthful of beer. That'll calm his nerves, for sure.

The reason why the small pub seemed like it had half the town crammed into it, was Arctic Monkeys. In support of their new album, they just started a national tour, and much to everyone's surprise, Appleford was on the list. Gig goers from the small town were used to have to trek down to Seattle to see a band, but it seemed like Arctic Monkeys liked to play small towns. So of course, it got a good turn out, with a good mix of fans, and people who just wanted to see some live music.

Marcus stayed at his table for now, watching the stage as the opening act got ready to play. Some new, up-and-coming band that the Arctic Monkeys took along for the tour. That's the dream. Well, it was Marcus' dream anyway. He was a musician, been playing guitar since he was a kid, and his biggest goal in life was to tour the world with a band, playing his music. But, he needed a band to that. In such a small town, finding like-minded musicians was difficult. Most other musicians he knew were retired friends of his dad's, or had left for college. Still, he hoped. He had put fliers up around town recently, "Guitarist/Vocalist looking for a band." No calls yet, but it'd only been a couple of days. Can't give up yet. Who knows, maybe he'd meet someone at the show.

"You know, most people wait until after their big break to start mixing drugs and alcohol. Oh, and check your blind spot before you do."

A soft voice came from behind Marcus, in the one spot his cursory scan hadn't turned up. Brandi was barely audible above the ambient noise of the club, her voice seemingly almost intentionally modulated to exactly that level. Her right hand was holding a beer bottle by the top, her left waving away any concern of her being a snitch. Her expression was her usual one--an airy, slight smirk that seemed to totally lack concern for much of anything beyond where she was at the current instant.

Brandi Michaels didn't really know Marcus Ainsworth. Marcus Ainsworth probably didn't really know her either, not more than anyone else. She'd not done music for years at this point, but his ad had caught her eye. Not because she was interested in responding to it, mind, that boat had sailed a long time ago--but because apart from the Arctic Monkeys coming to town, not much was going on for her right now.

She also didn't really know anyone in the bar, and that ad at least gave her an in to conversation. And she was so interminably bored.

Her eyes danced a little as she smiled, leaning back against the same bar table he was. "How's it going, Marcus? You come here often?"

Marcus damn near jumped out of his skin as he heard the voice speak up from behind him. The immediate thought that went through his head being OH SHIT I'VE BEEN CAUGHT I'M GOING TO JAIL! He calmed down quickly after the voice identified itself as someone he recognised. He didn't know Brandi very well, but he knew her well enough to know that she wasn't a snitch. One of the few things he did know about her, is that she sung in the school talent show back in middle school. He remembered it being pretty good. Maybe she could be someone to jam with?

"You scared the shit outta me..." He mumbled with an uneasy chuckle. He took a few moments to breathe and calm himself, before draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle down on the table forcefully. "I'm doing okay. I'll be doing a lot better in about twenty minutes..." He answered with another awkward laugh. "How are you?"

She looked at him for a second, her green eyes wide with slight curiosity.

"Well, I only meant to startle you a little. Any more than that I apologize for, but maybe you should work on your nerves before becoming a full time substance abuser. I hear that makes 'em worse," she teased, as her slight smirk reasserted itself. A pop and the cap of her beer was gone--she took a sip, almost lazily, then looked around the bar. The bottle clanked on the table as she set it down.

"I'm doin' alright, thanks for asking. Bored, mostly, but that comes with the territory." Brandi gave him a once over. "You look like you've been doing okay since high school. Music dreams panning out yet? I saw the ad."

---

Lawson was bound to be going to the Arctic Monkeys gig. They were precisely his type of band. He was sitting near one of the tables, half a pint of a whiskey in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. The joint was full of teenagers with fake IDs, 15-year-olds convinced that they looked 36, despite the ance. They were quite pathetic. Unfortunately, they were all avid customers at the music store which he worked in, so he wouldn't let himself laugh as they got thrown out into the street by order of their parents. They were no more 36 than he was.

He remembered when he was their age, unable to get into all the gigs olaying at his local pub. Even tonight he got suspicious looks from bouncers when he asked to be admitted. He downed the rest of his whiskey to stiffle a chuckle at the memories. The pub was starting to fill up, it wasn't every day that the Arctic Monkeys came to play at your small town. It was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity, as most of the people there would probably never leave town. Not Lawson though, he had plans for the future.

He'd seen someone put up a poster at his store looking for people to start a band with him, so he decided that he would put his name down for it. Unfortunately he hadn't phoned the person yet. If they were truly a music fan, they'd be at this gig. He made his way over to the bar to get a refill, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He noticed a guy a little younger than him stealthily popping a pill. How very rock'n'roll. He leaned against the bar, earwiging in on his conversation with some young woman he vaguely recognised. He must have seen them at his store.

He got bored with their conversation, until the woman mentioned an ad being placed, and something about music. Lawson was sure, this must be his man. He straightened his blue paisley bow tie, and sheepishly walked towards him. He quietly coughed to get the young pair's attention, took a drag of his cigarette and introduced himself.

"G'day. You the fella that put up that ad?" His Australian accent was strong, his voice deep. He looked Marcus up and down quickly. "You're only just starting a band, and you look high already. Must be a regular Kurt Cobain. So this girl must be your Courtney Love, eh?" He chuckled quietly, before continuing, realising he hadn't given the boy his name. "Oh, I'm Lawson. Lawson Hill-Porter, I work at the music store. I play guitar, and I wanna join your band." He stuck out his hand, an invitation for a response.

Marcus couldn't help but smile softly at Brandi's apparent concern. He knew all about the dangers of addiction and substance abuse. His parents told him many stories from their party days that had kept him wary. He felt like he knew how to keep himself in control. "Yeah don't worry, it's not something I do often."

At the mention of his add, Marcus's eyes lit up a bit. So people had been paying attention. "Saw that huh? Yeah, all I've been doing since school is writing music, so now I'm looking for people to play it with." He was about to ask if she'd been doing anything interesting before a rather young looking Australian joined the conversation. He smiled at first, happy to see that more people had seen his add, though his face quickly went red with embarrassment at the next comment. "Oh, uh..." He cleared his throat nervously, not knowing how to respond. Thankfully, the other man was better at continuing a conversation and introduced himself.

Marcus shook his hand and offered a slight shy smile. "Oh, you work at the shop? My dad works there. Jason, one of the managers. I'm Marcus."

Axel Lee

Axel strides into the pub, walking along his own beat. Artic Monkeys was performing in small side Appleford and the only way he knew was the radio station he worked at was hyping it up. Axel wasn't that into indie music, especially from a band that looked like they walked straight out of the 1950s. But he didn't have any other plans that night except glaze past overdue essays.

Like any other small town youngster with too much to vent but nowhere to scream, Axel produced his fake ID when the bartender eyed him upon his request for a PBR. Nevertheless it wasn't much longer until the cold mouth of the bottle pressed against his. He was at an earshot when he heard the mention of some people forming a band. This grabbed his attention since all he's been doing in this town was failing college and disgracing Taylor Swift over the soundwaves. He wasn't much for socializing but listened in on the conversation much to his amusement.

"Thanks, have a good night." Charlotte was already slightly tipsy as she showed the bouncer her fake identification card, and wished him a good night as he let her enter. It was something to be proud of. She had gotten it from out of state even, to make sure that it could not compared to the other fakes that circled around the scene. Lottie was dressed in a simple black dress, the back was cut out deep into the middle of her back. It was definitely one of her more flashy outfits.

She had taken a few shots at home before walking down to the club where the band would be playing. She would admit to knowing the band by name but it wasn't really her style. However, you couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. No one came to or from Appleford, so you had to take every chance that you could. Striding up to the bar, Charlotte waved to the bartender grabbing some attention. "Double shot Patron. Lime." she smiled as she was passed the shot. She sucked on the lime, filling her taste buds with the sour explosion. She threw back the tequila without much reaction. She did not need a chaser, she liked the slow burn it gave her.

Spotting two familiar faces she put her glass on the bar top, stealing the lime and shoving it between her lips to create a lime green smile. That lime was filthy. Her mother told her some of the dirtiest fruit in the world sat in bars, and it was best to keep them away from your mouth as possible. So of course she listened to the advice and did the complete opposite.

Walking up to Marcus and Brandi she meant to get a laugh from them but another person came to their side, and Lottie panicked. She spit the lime directly onto the floor of the bar, kicking it to the side with the side of her shoe. "Heyyy." she cooed, standing next to the three giving friendly smiles all around. Charlotte had not seen the advertisements for the band yet, not spending a lot of time outside of the house since graduating from High School.

One does not go to an Arctic Monkeys show to be surprised by innovation, the average person goes to hear a well-oiled indie-rock machine regurgitate tired clichés to reinforce their own deluded belief that they are somehow being transgressive by consuming something slightly removed from the top-forty dross. It was no surprise that the band chose to perform here in the middle of bumfuck Washington to a crowd of easily amused simpletons. Kelsey sardonically smiled knowing he would soon be in attendance mingling amongst the same group he was internally railing against. He just needed to be adored.

His thin arms tightened around the waist of his driver as the Harley Davidson motorcycle sped down the poorly maintained asphalt. Mammoth the driver wasn’t what the beauty obsessed Kelsey considered his type, but the Meatloaf lookalike did have his perks… a rent-free place to stay and transportation being amongst them; also, the whole beauty and the beast dynamic was interesting to exploit at times. Kelsey knew that the oafish brute was more smitten by him than he let on as the fool stuck around despite his lowly status amongst Kelsey’s rotating cast of other lovers. In a strange way Mammoth’s misplaced determination was sort of endearing. Kelsey was genuinely startled as the motorbike came to an abrupt stop in front of the club and let out an uncharacteristic yelp in surprise. Mammoth failed to contain a hearty bout of laughter and received a few slaps to the back for his troubles. It was a rare sight to see Kelsey caught off guard in public or for that matter even in private; the biker presumed that the androgynous beauty’s life was nothing more than a carefully constructed act--that everything he said or did held a grand purpose and would set off a chain reaction Kelsey had already planned in his mind. Kelsey would have thrown a helmet at the uncultured ogre had he been wearing one, but the fear of helmet hair outweighed any safety concerns. He departed the bike and stormed into the club without sparing a second glance at his ride. Mammoth knew better to do or say anything deemed confrontational less he catch an earful; he already had well-intentioned hassling from his fellow Appleford Jagged Marauders to look forward to for putting up with this attractive, but ungrateful freeloader and really did not need any more lip tonight.

Despite his dispassion toward the current performers Kelsey still was grateful for the small amount of outside culture that sporadically graced this one-horse town as he could not possibly change the culture of this puritan hamlet all by himself. If only these mouth breathers were more adventurous. Despite Appleford’s daily assault on his intelligence and independence Kelsey still knew how to make an entrance. A shade darker than his flowing pink hair his sparkling jumpsuit seemed to hug his body in all the right places whilst being perfectly complimented by gilded platform boots. Kelsey seemed to embrace the gaudy excess of his outfit and took the occasional dirty looks in stride; his narcissism seemed to know no bounds. In a moment of hubris Kelsey neglect to remember that he owed this particular club a considerable bar tab and only as he approached the bouncer did he realize that perhaps he should have dressed a little more inconspicuously. Luckily the bouncer seemed preoccupied accosting some teenager with a hilariously bad fake id that Kelsey managed to slip by unnoticed. It was tempting to find his regular group of adoring sycophants to hang out with, but that increased his chances of being thrown out by a hundred percent. Snatching an unattended fruity alcoholic drink from a seemingly deserted table the twenty-two-year-old scanned the room for somewhere to enjoy the show without being thrown out or for some three sheets to the wind sucker to pin his ludicrously large tab on. There is seemed to be a growing congregation of impressionable looking plebeians a few tables down, but shoot he thought he perhaps recognized some of them from his high school years…the drab days before glamour…long ago before Kelsey Matthews there was…ugh...forget it.

Kelsey shook those utterly depressing thoughts from the forefront of his mind and locked them safely away in his subconscious. Before Kelsey Matthews there was no one. None of these yokels ever connected him to that non-entity he once was and they never would. To the rabble he was always the star Kelsey Matthews and their pitiful existences were indefinitely better because of his brightness. Taking a sip of his stolen beverage Kelsey graceful slunk away from the table before the original occupants could return and made his way closer to the group eavesdropping all the way.

“Oh, so this is the famous Music Man from advertisements. Where’s your 76 trombones? Tsk. Tsk. Forgive me as here I was thinking I was the only practitioner of the finer arts here in Crappleford darlings. Shame on me. Though I honestly thought you’d be taller. No offense obviously. I’m only 5’9 myself. A good pair of boots or heels do wonders for your vertical impairment.”

There were advantages to being in the moment--to taking things as they seemed, to paying attention to what one saw in the here and now and not being concerned with what you'd had for dinner last night or how your clothes looked, or even how those around you perceived you. Despite the way she'd floated through high school, Brandi's mind was a lot keener than most would give her credit for. Which was perfectly fine, in truth, thinking of her as a laid-back slacker tended to let her be just that. Few expectations, fewer responsibilities.

It also let her be a lot more perceptive than expected.

She knew… pretty much everyone that had shown up. Probably a lot better than they knew her. Which was fine. The talent show in middle school had been a mistake, something she still regretted doing.
Brandi hadn't known how to let go then. She did now.

Her outfit was simple enough: jeans, a tank top and jacket just themed properly enough to blend in if you didn't look too closely.

“Eh, I'm no Courtney Love. My name is Brandi Michaels, though. S’a pleasure, Lawson.”

She didn't miss the lime being kicked to the side, her smile widening slightly as the other woman walked up. “Evenin’, Charlotte. Seems s’a high school reunion around here--”

Then the cotton candy man appeared, his appearance and talk a flurry of wispy nonsense. “Ayyyy,” she said, her voice still soft, perfectly loud enough to be heard over the din of the bar but not much more. “Take a breath, friend, shortness and lack of brass instrumentation ain't nothing to mention in a first introduction.’

Marcus' once solitary table was now surrounded by both familiar and unfamiliar faces. He certainly didn't expect to have company, let alone this much attention. It felt good to have some attention for once, but he wasn't very used to have so many eyes on him. He was always a wall flower in school, preferring to keep to the background. Although, if we wanted to follow his dream of being a world travelling musician, he was gonna have to get over that.

He offered a soft smile as girl he had barely seen since high school approached the table, looking like she had already had a few drinks before getting to the bar. "Hey Charlotte. Been a while."
Charlotte had a reputation for knowing how to party, which was good. Partying was something Marcus wanted to do more of. He wondered if she had seen his add? It seemed like a lot of people had, and if he remembered correctly, Charlotte was a fellow musician, and she would definitely be a good addition to the band.

Before he had a chance to say anything else before a pink-haired person interrupted, said something about trombones, and... Insulted his height? Marcus' face adopted a confused expression. He had know idea what the boldly dressed person actually intended by the long winded statement, so he just forced an uneasy smile and nodded. "Uh, yeah, that's me. I'm looking for some people to jam with. Do you play?"

A few moments after he asked, the music playing softly through the bar's PA system faded out and the bar quieted for a few moments, the only sounds being murmurings from people around the bar. Marcus turned around and saw the opening band standing on stage, and smiled as they kicked into the first song. He didn't really know the band, but he always liked being close to the action when there was live music involved. He turned back to the group around the table with a smile. "I'm gonna get closer. Talk more after?" He offered them each a smile and hurried over to the crowd in front of the stage.

The band started off strong. Up-beat, bouncy Pop-Rock with a good groove and strong melodies. Nothing that hasn't been done before, but still fun. It had people moving slightly, bobbing their heads, a few bouncing a little. It was fun music, the kind of stuff that's hard to keep still too, no matter what kind of music you're into.