All around us, women were dressed in flashy club gear, low cut shirts, short skirts, everything worn skin tight as though it were liquid latex poured onto their bodies and molded just before they walked in. Jewelry was anything from gaudy costume to high end and flashy. They were here for one reason: to hook up with a band member, even if just for one night. It had long been rumored that 7 Year Coma hated these type of parties. The stiff, upper class groupies, the media and publicity, and the restrictions imposed on them by management and PR - namely Sammi - to portray themselves respectively. It went against everything that they stood for, a hard rocking, we-don’t-give-a-shit group of guys that could care less about what the public thought of them. But once in a while, these events were necessary, Sammi was explaining to us, so that the record companies could meet the band that they were putting their money, and their reputation, into. I scanned the room, looking for faces that I’d recognize. My friends were all doing the same, taking it all in with a quiet awe. A man in a suit, sticking out like a sore thumb in this crowd, was sitting at the bar drinking a heavy drink in a low ball glass, no ice, chatting it up with an obvious groupie. Next to him sat a dusk man in polo shirt and khaki’s, an off-duty golfer who’d been let in on a thick wad of bills no doubt, flirting shamelessly with the bartender, a sleek blonde in a black rubber dress. And just beyond the golfer, I spotted him. He was sitting at one of the booths, laughing, his hand cupping a half-filled tumbler. He was dressed in a navy green jacket covering a plain black t-shirt, slightly worn jeans, and his dark brown hair hung just above his ice-blue eyes. He could have been anyone in the room, the way he was relaxed in his seat, enjoying his drink and chatting with his company. He had one of those full on laughs, the kind where you could tell that he wasn’t faking it just for the sake of public relations. And the look in his eyes was genuine, if not a bit tired.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Jun 2013 02:23:53 +0000
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