The Scene

[casualweapons]

Jeff considered himself to be a reasonable person. I mean, he’d let Britt live with him, hadn’t he? Okay, so that had been more out of lust than reason, but still. Although he was tolerant, he’d had it. It’d been five months. She had no job, his lust for her wasn’t mutual, and he was sick of it. Britt had to move out. He called her into the kitchen and motioned for her to take a seat.
“Listen, I hate to tell you this,” he said after a few minutes, removing a cigarette from his lips, “But Britt, you gotta go.”
The words came out with a cloud of smoke, swirls of it floating up to the ceiling. Three seconds later. The smoke was still reaching for the swirling fan above. Britt’s eyes were following a particularly active swirl when she registered the words that had exhaled the smoke.
“What?” She asked, unsure she’d heard them properly.
Jeff sighed, exasperated, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. He tapped his cigarette on the edge of the table. Britt watched the motion, leaning forward slightly as well.
“Britt, I really don’t know an easy way to say this. You gotta get out of here.” He paused to make sure her eyes were focused on his. “When you moved in, you said you were gonna get a job. I said okay, because you were still getting gigs. But you still don’t have a job and you haven’t played a gig in two months. What’s up? I know you still play; I hear you in your room.”
“Oh, the band’s just taking a vacation.” She grinned. “We’ll be playing again right when Ella gets back from her world tour.”
“Britt.” Jeff rolled his eyes, “Ella’s on a world tour. She ain’t coming back; she’s too successful. That YouTube single blew up faster and harder than a nuke. She’s not coming back.”
“Can it be a butterfly coming out of a chrysalis? Nukes are just too negative.” She had her head cocked to the side, still grinning.
Jeff blinked at her, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. But Britt, you don’t have a job. You can’t help pay rent. Rent increases when I’ve got more people in here and I don’t make a lot of money. You can’t stay.”
He could practically see Britt’s mind at work, her icy eyes squinted in concentration. Did she finally understand? She looked up at him.
“Where will I go?” She asked in a small voice.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t care anymore.
“Can I stay the night?” she pleaded.
He shook his head, “The landlord comes tomorrow and I told him that I’m the only one living here. You have to leave tonight. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t.
“It’s alright.” Britt smiled weakly, as though trying to console him. “I’ll find a place. I’ll be fine.” She smiled wider and left to pack.
Jeff leaned back, puffing away at his cigarette. He muttered to himself, “It also doesn’t help that you’re annoying as fuck. Hot, but fucking annoying.”
-
As Britt packed, she wasn’t bitter, wasn’t angry. She was barely even sad. She knew she’d get through this; she always did. This was just another road block. Road…
She suddenly stopped. Was Ella really not coming back? She pulled out her phone and pressed in Ella’s number.
Ring,,,Ri- mid ring, on just the second ring, it went to voicemail, just like it did every time Britt called. She’s just busy, Britt thought.
Hey, it’s Ella, I’m not here right now, and I’m probably on stage, because I’m on tour bitchess! Anyway, you can leave me a message and I’ll try to get back to you. See ya! Beep!
Britt pushed her hair behind her ear. “Hey, Ella, um, it’s Britt. You know, from Tropical Blue? Anyway, um, just calling to say I miss you. We should jam sometime, ya know? I mean, before we go back and do more gigs, it’d be good to practice. Anyway way, I hope you’re having fun; it’s so awesome you’re on tour! See ya, good luck!”
Britt smiled as she hung up. Ella would come back, right? She finished packing easily, since she didn’t have much. A few shirts, extra pair of jeans, socks, flat iron, underwear, hygiene products, flat iron, and her two basses; one acoustic, one electric. She was set.
Her departure wasn’t much. She chirped out a sincere “Bye!” and hugged Jeff tightly. He hugged back with one arm and used to the other to slam the door on her way out as he muttered “Bye.”
Britt slung her bag over her shoulder and looked up at the sky with a deep breath. It was such a nice day, especially for the city of Cleveland. She wandered down to the art museum, then plopped down on the lawn. She leaned back on the grass, looking for shapes in the clouds. Suddenly her phone beeped. She was slow to grab it, gazing at a cloud shaped like a penguin/unicorn spawn.
She glanced at her phone. New text. There was a turtle dancing in the sky… Oh, wait, phone. Duh. She glanced at the screen again. The text was from Ella! She was probably in some crowded area and couldn’t call.
Britt, stop calling. I’m not coming back. Find a new band, ok? -Ella
“Oh. Well, okay!” Guess she’s successful. That’s fine!” With anyone else, these words would be sarcastic. With Britt, the words were heartfelt, although her brain was lost. What to do?
She wandered to the House of Blues; it seemed like a million miles away. She almost ran into ten people on the way, staring at bright signs and flying birds. It was almost night, and it seemed like the band playing was pretty popular, judging from the line outside and the noise inside. Britt could hear the bass line thudding. She nodded her head and hummed along with it as she looked at the posters on the outside walls for other upcoming shows and events. She felt herself become excited, but she couldn’t understand why. She glanced at the posters again.
“Yeah, they’re all talented bands, but why’s my brain getting all happy?” She furrowed her brow, unable to help smiling a little, reading carefully, trying to figure out why her subconscious was registering something her conscious wasn’t, and why was this thing so good?
Finally, she saw the sign.
Battle of the Bands.
Prize money.
Recording label contract.
Holy shit.
Well, there’d be some rent money.
“All I need is a band.” She grinned, feeling hope and joining in her brain’s excitement.