Goldberg, Lee Matthew - Runaway Train by Goldberg Lee Matthew

Author:Goldberg, Lee Matthew [Goldberg, Lee Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781953944016
Publisher: Wise Wolf Books
Published: 2021-04-28T16:00:00+00:00

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“You need more accessories,” Lacey says, as we roam the aisles in the thrift shop. “Like, make a noisy presence when you get up on stage.”

She chooses a ribbon choker with various silver necklaces dangling from it that attach at the back of my neck. For bracelets, she brings me bangles. Instead of a band T-shirt, she gets me a crop top, since evidently, I have nice athletic boobs. The checkered flannel I’m wearing can stay, and we find a pair of frayed jeans with holes around the knees and thighs. For make-up, she gives me a pale glow with red lips, red blush and a red hue around the eyes for a wan and healthy strung-out look. The outfit is finished with a hat that resembles the one the 4 Non Blondes singer wears.

“You look like Drew Barrymore!” she says, as we observe my new look in a bathroom mirror.

“No, she’s so much prettier.”

“Nico, you’re a fox. Do you really not see that? I’d do you.”

We laugh at that.

“Lemme take a picture of you. You have a camera on you?”

“Sure do,” I say, and hand it over.

I give a pose with a peace sign as the flash causes floaties. She hands me the developing picture.

“Ready to open up those pipes?” Lacey asks.

For a second, I think she is being weirdly sexual but then realize she means my vocal cords.

“No, but I can’t back out now.”

When we return to Café Hey, it’s way more crowded than earlier. Obviously, it’s a popular spot to hang in the area. Students overflow off the couches. Lacey sees a few of her friends that she introduces me to.

“Nico’s gonna sing tonight,” she tells them.

“I’ve never sung in front of an audience before,” I admit to the floor.

“Time for a cherry pop,” her friend Clarissa says while making a popping sound with her finger on the inside of her cheek.

I sign my name up for the open mic, sweating a storm as I wait through others going before me. I can’t even listen to their poems or songs, too nervous to think about anything else but my own performance. I decide to go with Tori Amos because I’d been listening to her the most recently and I definitely know all the words. As much as I love Nirvana, my voice is very different from Cobain’s, and I’m not sure it will sound good.

“And next up, Nico Sullivan,” I hear the MC say, as we make eye contact and he waves me up on stage.

I look out at a crowd of about twenty-five people, every finger in the room pointing at me. My fat thighs. My hat that’s trying too hard. My growling stomach. My shaking knees. All of them waiting to crucify.

“Woo hoo!” Lacey shouts. “Go, Nico.”

I grin at her support because it causes a few other people to clap as well.

Taking a deep breath, I put my lips against the microphone and close my eyes. I retreat to my own private café, only Kristen as an audience.

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