Finally back where I belonged; at Johnny's. Saturday had finally rolled around again and I was sat atop the rooftop enjoying some of my sweet Sailor Jerry; my hoe on the side when I couldn't afford my boy Jackie. Legit, Whiskey was expensive AF over the bar. Even with the fact that Dom owned the place and could slip me a discount here and a freebie there, it didn't help much.

Happy Hour was on, meaning Dom was busy downstairs at the bar, while I was up on the rooftop making the most of the specials while I could. I gazed out through the lattice wall that lined the edge of the rooftop bar at the flashing lights of the strip club across the street. On more than one occasion, I had been incredibly tempted to try my luck there. At this point in my life, I'd rather take off my clothes for money than work for nothing at fucking Bella Home.

I watched as the front doors opened and four men emerged from the club. Two got into a car outside and left, while the other two made their way across the street toward Johnny's. I recognized them from somewhere, I just couldn't put my finger on it. That longer-haired one though; I'd spoken to him last weekend.

I lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag as I watched the crowds around me. So many try-hard, bleach-blonde wannabes wearing tattoo chokers, clad in Guns and Roses tank tops and Metallica battle jackets they'd more than likely found at Hot Topic, and even more likely; knew nothing about said bands and wore their logos to fit in and look hardcore. What was worse, were the amount of fairly decent looking 80's inspired glam rocker dudes that ate it the fuck up, shamelessly flirting with those girls.

"Rikki!" Rayleigh's voice called out, breaking me out of my silent judgement.
I turned to my attention to her to find the two men I'd seen down on the street below standing beside her. "These are a couple of the guys I interviewed the other day, turns out they're regulars here and I just never took notice before."
"Nice to meet you." The heavily muscled guy with close-cut hair extended his hand to me. "Matt Sanders." he introduced himself.
"Rikki-Lee Taylor." I nodded, shaking his hand.
"And this is-" Ray started, but the long-haired guy cut her off.
"We've already met, nice to see you again."
"Brian." I grinned. "Yeah, I remember."
"You mind?" he asked, motioning to the space beside me in the booth.
"Not at all."
He slid in next to me, Matt and Ray following suit.
"I figured I may as well introduce you guys, since you all seem to be like-minded." Ray smiled, snatching a cigarette from the packet of Marlboro's peeping out of my purse.
"Hey, those fucking things ain't cheap." I glared at her.
"Consider it payment for the coffee I bought you the other day." she sniggered.
"Here." Brian said, pulling his own packet out and handing me one. "To replace it."
"Thank you." I smiled.
"No problem." he replied, placing one between his lips and lighting it.
"So what do you do with your time?" Matt asked.
"You mean besides constantly poisoning my lungs and abusing my liver?" I chuckled. "Because the answer really isn't much better; I work at a thrift store."
"Bella Home." Ray answered for me.
"My Wife loves that place." Matt smiled. "She's always bringing home all these weird little knick-knacks, our house is full of them."
"Glad to have been of some service." I nodded. "We do get some cool shit in from time to time, actually, I found my jacket there." I informed them, motioning to the denim jacket I wore almost constantly. "Customized it myself, of course."
"It looks awesome." Matt grinned, eyeing off the spikes scattered across the shoulders and sparingly dotted across the sleeves.
"Thank you." I grinned.
"Why don't you do that for a living?" Rayleigh piped up. "Customize shit, make cool clothes for all these little faux-alt girls around here?" she suggested, motioning to the wannabes around us. "They'd fucking pay hundreds if it gave them a little more street cred."
"Because that's not Punk Rock." I laughed. "You don't make this shit for people, it defeats the fucking purpose of DIY, which is what Punk is all about."
"We've had a few pieces made for us by Sharon Toxic off and on over the years?" Matt said.
"Then you're a fucking phoney-ass motherfucker." I teased.
Brian snorted from beside me.
"Ouch, way to make a good first impression." Matt chuckled.
"Rikki's not so good with people." Ray spoke.
"Rikki's sitting right here." I replied.
"Rikki needs to learn how to play nice with the other kids." she teased.
"Rayleigh needs to suck a fuck."
"Tell me, dear sister, how exactly does one suck a fuck?"
"Alright, that's enough." Matt sniggered. "I'm gonna grab another drink, you coming?" he asked Ray.
"Sure."
"Brian?"
"I'm good here." he said, raising his smoke.
"Alright man." Matt replied, sliding out of the booth and disappearing in the crowds with Rayleigh by his side.
"He finally speaks!" I gasped. "I thought you were a mute."
"Just lost in thought, I guess." he frowned, watching the smoke curl into the air as it trailed from his cigarette.
"Penny for said thoughts?"
"Fucking Sanders." he grumbled. "Careless with his words."
"How so?"
"That Wife he mentioned? Her twin sister is my Ex-Wife."
"Oh dude..." I sighed. "That fucking blows."
"It is what it is..." He said, taking another drag.
"What happened?" I asked, mirroring his actions.
"It was my fault, probably." he shrugged. "Since Jimmy passed I guess I haven't really been the best version of myself."
"Was he your Drummer?" I pried. "Rayleigh told me about the interview the other day."
"Yeah." he nodded, tapping the ash off his smoke. "He was my best friend."
"My sympathies man." I breathed. "And I guess I can relate, in a way, my ex-best friend isn't dead, but he may as well be."
"What about that guy that you were with the other night?" Brian asked. "You two seemed close."
"Dominic?" I giggled, puffing on the last of my cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray. "Nah, he's just my buddy."
"Seemed like a little more than just that." he sniggered.
"He provides me with liquor, I provide him with... other things."
"Classy." he teased.
"Hey!" I snapped. "It's my life, man."
"Not judging." he smirked; and I felt a sudden flutter in my stomach. "I had my fun back in the day, before I settled down... not that it matters now."
"Well hey, you're Single, you've got a bar full of desperate wannabes who've probably erased all their logical thinking, along with their natural hair colours, at your fingertips." I chuckled. "Take your fuckin' pick, man."
"Are you sure you're even female?" he laughed, his lips pulling back to reveal perfect pearly whites - This guy must make some decent money to afford such a smile. "You talk, act, and think like a dude."
"Well, I've got a gash between my legs, so I'd say I'm a chick."
Brian snorted, and took another drag from his cigarette. "Wow..."
"Although honestly, life would probably be much easier for me if I were a dude." I admitted. "At least then I wouldn't have to suck my best friend's brother's dick, and just plow other chicks."
"You just have zero fucks to give, don't you?" Brian chuckled.
"Nope." I said, popping the 'P'

I felt my purse vibrate and pulled out my phone;

From: Dom
Downstairs. Now.
You'll fucking dig this band that's about to play

"Come downstairs?" I suggested. "Sparky says the next band's supposed to be good."
"Sure." Brian nodded.

We weaved our way through the masses of bodies on the rooftop and descended the stairs down into the band room. The humidity and warmth of the room hit us instantly, totally opposite to the cool night air outside. I pushed my way through the crowd to the edge of the stage, Brian trailing behind me.



A trio of black-clad guys in matching vests were tuning up their instruments onstage. The drummer, a tall, lanky guy with long brown hair tied back with a bandana was in the middle of testing out his kit, as the sound engineer adjusted the mics rigged up around him. They seemed so familiar, but as two out of three of them had their back to me currently, I couldn't see their faces to make it really click. Until that familiar music started up...

"It’s 6AM, I might be dying, through ashtray breath, you’re always lying. And I shat myself, you know it’s true, I never felt anything at all. I never dream, I’m living in a nightmare..."

"DEAD JOE!" I yelled.
"You know these guys?" Brian shouted over the music.
"They used to play The Anarchy Library frequently, they were my favourite band." I smiled.

"CARRY ME HOME! BURNT LUNGS AND BROKEN BONES, WHOA-OH, WHOA-OH!"

I was honestly in shock to hear them playing here, they were pretty underground as their signature Goth Punk sound had more or less died out by now. - Despite the ongoing success of bands like AFI and the Misfits. The Anarchy Library was known for being one of the few alternative nightclubs in the Huntington Beach area, more catered toward the darkly-inclined. I'd rarely heard of Dead Joe playing anywhere else, they basically ruled that place.

"Dear misery, keep me company, as we share this dawn with misanthropy and cigarettes, I’ve got no regrets. As I fill my lungs with this pleasant view, my desolation attitude is killing me. I never dream, I’m living in a nightmare. Through bloodshot eyes, from broken homes, We’re running out of time, don’t let me die alone..."

I raised my glass and headbanged as I sang along. Brian's attention switched back and forth between laughing at me getting so pumped over the band, back to the stage as the song continued. The vocalist, who was also their bass player, turned the guitarist's microphone toward the crowd and I grabbed it;

"CARRY ME HOME! BURNT LUNGS AND BROKEN BONES, WHOA-OH, WHOA-OH!"

I backed up as a swarm of guys who clearly knew the song closed in on the microphone, pushing me out of the crowd. Long gone were the days where I was one of the few who knew their songs well. But no bother, I kept shouting along, Brian joining in, until the song finished.

"You guys fucking rock, we're Dead Joe." said Mick, their Bassist. "This next one's called The Nightmare, sing along if you know it..."

***

"Ohh man." I giggled as Brian and I stepped back out into the open air of the rooftop after their set. "Those guys never disappoint."
"I'm impressed." Brian admitted, following me over to a quiet corner and pulling out another cigarette, passing one to me. "I'll have to check out their Bandcamp later on."
"I'm sure they'll be very grateful." I replied, leaning forward as he held the flame of his lighter toward me. "Thank you."
"So, you used to hang around The Anarchy Library?" he asked.
"It was my old stompin' grounds, before I switched to this place."
"Why the switch?" he pried, taking a drag.
"Long story..."
"I tell you mine, you tell me yours?" he suggested, blowing out a curling wisp of smoke.
"Sure." I shrugged. "I'll bite."
"Jimmy was my Best Friend..." He began, taking another drag from his cigarette. "The day we met, we got into a fight and got kicked out of class." he chuckled. "It actually worked out pretty well, and we ended up jamming later that day." a small smile crept across his face, despite the fact his eyes looked distant. "And it was pretty much love at first sight, love at first day."
"Go on..." I encouraged.
"We were basically inseperable, we were bandmates before Shads even asked us to be in Avenged Sevenfold." he continued. "We had a band together in High School called Pinkly Smooth, and I don't think there was a single day that he didn't do some crazy shit that made me laugh."
"Sounds like a cool guy." I replied.
"He was." Brian nodded, pausing for a moment to inhale some more nicotine. "He was an incredible musician, and an even more incredible best friend- Brother." he corrected himself. "He was my Brother."
"So what happened?"
Brian swallowed hard.
"I'm sorry." I quickly apologized. "If you're not ready."
"I don't think I'll ever be ready." he shrugged.
"Another time?" I suggested.
"Yeah." Brian sighed, letting his head lazily drop back against the wall of the rooftop. "Maybe."
My lips twitched upward in a brief, but understanding smile.
"So." He took another drag of his cigarette. "What's your sob story?" he asked, turning to me and exhaling the smoke in a hazy cloud, distorting my view of his face.

"RIKKI!" Rayleigh called, suddenly appearing in the doorway that led downstairs. "DJ MUETE'S SPINNING!"
"Sorry." I said, frowning in apology at Brian. "Seems I've been summoned."
"Raincheck?" he suggested.
"Sure thing." I nodded. "Come dance?"
"Alright." he smiled, his cheeks creasing up.

Well shit... he's cute...

I snuffed out my cigarette and made my way back downstairs, Brian following close behind. As we entered the bar once more, the dance floor was already beginning to fill up with a sea of moving bodies. The current song ended, and I recognized the familiar intro to one of my absolute favourite jams;

Dirty little girl don't care about her reputation. She goes hard, moves fast, and she's never gonna turn around...

"You know this song?" Brian called over the music.
"Dude!" I cried. "It's like, one of my fucking favourites, only DJ Muete spins it!"
"Guy's got good taste." he smirked. "Dance with me?"
"You sure you got the moves?" I teased.
"Come find out."

Brian tugged me toward him, resting his hands on my hips as I slid mine around his neck, grinding my body against his. We swayed together in time with the music, and I laughed as he whipped me around so my back was against his chest. His fingertips grazed the exposed skin where my shirt had begun to ride up, and I don't know if it was the alcohol in my system, or the raunchy lyrics of the song, but his touch sent sparks down south.

She's the drug that I need, tell me why should I leave. She's no angel, but she's saving me...

I tilted my head back, leaning into Brian, reaching up and burying my fingers in his hair - which was insanely soft for a dude, clearly well taken care of. His breath was hot on my neck as his arms snaked around my waist, our breaths growing heavier and heavier as we continued to dance.

Hey! She'll give it up for free. Yeah! She's only out to please. She don't love me, but I don't seem to mind. Wait, take another ride, before I have to say goodbye. Yeah, it's a crazy world, but I'm in love with a dirty little girl...

Notes

Chapter Title Cred: Dirty Little Girl by Burn Halo

Also, check out Dead Joe, they're my pals:
https://deadjoeband.bandcamp.com/

Holy fucking shit balls... it's been five months since I last updated this? Fuck...
Sorry guys, I've been sooo goddamn focused on trying to get Broken Arrow finished because I've been writing it for years, so all my other fics have kinda taken a back seat for the time being

But I had this chapter mostly pre-written and finally forced myself to finish it and get it up for you guys. I hope you're all still interested, since it's been so long since I last posted a chapter? :/

Comment if you're still here, and still want more
I'll be waiting...