Still looking for a title, but here is the finished product. Opinions are welcome. :)
"Any way you want it," the Aqua NettedTM lead singer croons into the mic while stepping off of the makeshift stage next to the bar area. We fans are front and center; the waitresses are scurrying around us delivering shots of Jack or vodka or whatever one can dream of, froofy girly drinks and beer to the tables that are scattered everywhere. At the bar men and some women are drinking; all is silent or whatever conversation there was had been drowned out by drums, electric and bass guitars.
It is mostly women in the audience that is front and center to the stage; I am the youngest, or what it seems like to me, in the crowd that swarm the really hot lead singer with the Aqua NetTM now dripping off the sweat of his stringy blond hair. What was once held together neatly by the 80s staple, his hair now covers his beet red face.
"Oh, all night," he crescendos to mimic Steve Perry's wonderful crooning and voice, "oh, every night. So hold tight;" he winks at me, extending his hand, grabbing mine and pulling me front and center like a man deeply in love pulling his girlfriend to a romantic spot to pop the question of marriage.
His hands are warm and sweaty, but I pay no mind to that detail; because maybe the energy of the band and crowds around me mixed with the nervousness made me feel hot and sticky or the shot of Jager I took before being whisked away make me feel warm and entranced in his touch and gaze. His hazel eyes stare deeply into my amber brown eyes as he continues to sing lovingly to me.
Twirling my hair playfully, he begins to flirt with me. I am turning red; I am not used to people publicly flirting with me, especially a rocker in the middle of a show and in front of a bar full of people.
Handing the mic to me, I get to sing the chorus of the song-ultimately playing the role of one of Perry's lovers. I am not too self-conscious over the possible symbolism, but the fact I will be using my horrid voice to sing.
"Oh, hold on, hold on," I meekly sing into the mic. Meekness fails me, however, my voice echoes around the bar and amplifies the instruments. I continue to sing as I turn a raspberry colour and hope that I don't reek of the licorice scent of Jager. Somewhere between the commotion and me rocking out, I look my rocker in the eye and all my nervousness evaporates from the energy of the droning bass, the whammy, vibrato and sliding of the guitars and the loudness of the drums around me. I let the energy of the crowd devour me.
"Any way you want it, that's the way you'll get it," he finishes and kisses my hand as women's eyes jealously watch.
"I'd like another shot of Jager," I say to the waitress I quickly flag as I sit at my table front row, locking eyes with the dreamy rocker. I've always loved 80s hair metal men that drown their hair in Aqua NetTM with clothes in leather and spandex.