Page 6 of Shame Me
My first reaction was to feel flattered. The corners of my lips turned up into a smile as my heart seemed to swell to fill my entire chest cavity. Even though it was dark in the venue, the lights from the stage afforded us some illumination near the back of the house, but I still wondered how he’d been able to identify me. Maybe he’d seen Braden, Cy, and me when we’d first walked back here. Not many people had Cy’s unusual hairstyle, so it would be natural to look at the three of us together and figure out who we were.
I didn’t think my face or my look were that memorable.
But this guy recognized me, and he didn’t know how much that had made my day.
“Yeah. I’m Dani. Nice to meet you.”
“Are you serious? That’s hilarious. My name’s Danny, too, but we probably spell our names differently.”
Laughing, I stuck out my hand to shake his, “Nice to meet you, Danny—and I bet you’re right. I’m Dani with ani.”
“Yep—I’m Danny with ay.” He let go of my hand. “These guys are good too,” he shouted as the band began playing their second song, one that sounded more traditionally punk, “but I would love to pick your brain a little bit. You guys totally knocked my socks off.”
I scrutinized him then. This guy was cute and into music, a quality I valued. The lack of light I knew could make his appearance deceiving, but from what I could tell, he wasn’t too old. He had dark hair like Zack, beautiful, expressive eyes, although I couldn’t tell what color, and he was tall. While he wasn’t as tall as Zack, I still had to look up. He also looked pretty filled out in the white t-shirt he wore, and the fabric all but clung to his solid pecs. Zack’s pecs had developed over the past year, beefing up from the scrawny teenager he’d been, something I knew came with age.
But why the hell couldn’t I stop comparing this guy to Zack? No one, not a soul, could be like the undeserving man I’d given my heart to years ago.
The one I couldn’t stop loving, regardless.
And why was I assessing Danny? After all, maybe he really didjustwant to talk.
Either way, I was flattered and happy from the attention. “Okay, sure.”
So we started walking towards the front of the venue, through the packed bodies shaking their fists in the air. As we made our way to one of the main pathways toward a set of doors, he took my hand in his, suggesting to me that my initial instinct was probably right.
We wouldn’tjustbe talking.
The two of us made our way to the lobby, a place I hadn’t seen before, because we’d entered and loaded all our equipment through the back. Even though our band arrived at venues early, per Zack’s orders, we also stuck close, another Zack instruction. His thought had always been that we could screw around after we played but we needed to stay focused before, and that meant no fraternizing, no drinking, no wandering off—even though he was the one guilty of breaking his own rules. Usually, we’d stick together, allowing the nervous energy we built up in those moments to fuel the first song of our performance.
Again, I was struck by the look of this particular venue. As much as I’d been awed by the guts of the place, the front of the house wowed me as well. If I’d thought the outside had a cinematic feel, the lobby continued the theme of an old-fashioned movie theater, complete with red velvet ropes and a concession stand. The difference, as far as I could see, were the signs instructing people to not take food and drinks into the arena itself (although there was a tiny disclaimer for bottled water). The aroma of popcorn hung heavy in the air, but I also spotted pizza slices and giant pretzels behind glass, rotating under lights to tempt buyers, a soda fountain, and lots of boxed candy on display like jewelry. I fell in love with this place and hoped we could play here again.
As we began making our way out the front door, the man standing there said, “Make sure you have your ticket stubs if you want to get back in—and you won’t want to miss Fully Automatic.”
Danny nodded but the way his brown eyes squinted served as a nudge. I said, “I don’thavea ticket.”
“Man, she’s with the band that just played. You know, Once Upon a Riot? Don’t you recognize her?”
“I don’t know all the bands. I’m stuck uphere. And, if you look at the announcement poster over there,” he said, pointing to the wall to the right that displayed upcoming concerts, “the only picture is of Fully Automatic. It justsaysOnce Upon a Riot and Clara’s Dolls arefeatured.”
“Fair enough, but can’t you justgiveher a ticket stub? That way she can come back in without any flak, since you’re too stupid to know who she is.”
The short man’s eyes narrowed, and I couldn’t quite blame him. After all, he was just trying to do his job and here was this cute guy who was turning out to be a bit of a jerk hassling him. I wasn’tfamous, not by any stretch of the imagination. Our band had only been playing in the Denver area for a few months and, while we were gaining a bit of a following, I didn’t expect people to bow down to me or break the rules.
Even though the doorman glared at Danny, as he shifted his eyes to me, he smiled. “I did hear that the first band had a female drummer, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to watch you play. Hundreds of bands come through here every year and I don’t see all the shows, but I guess the thing is you’re already here. If you’re not really with the band and you’re just faking me out, that’s on you.” He tore a red ticket off a roll sitting on a shelf under the podium and handed it to me. “But no offense intended.”
“It’s okay, dude,” I said, taking the stub. God, now I sounded like Braden, calling random strangersdude. I’d been surrounded by nothing but guys for far too long. When I thanked him, I hoped he could also hear the apology in my tone.
As Danny and I walked outside into the cold air, I cursed myself, because I hadn’t brought my jacket—but I didn’t want to go back inside to fetch it after that big scene. And even though Danny’s hand felt warm in mine, the cold hit me hard. The t-shirt paired with ripped jeans didn’t provide much warmth, and the heat I’d felt onstage had long since dissipated.
As my teeth chattered, though, his hand stirred something inside me.
“Are you cold?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, finding it hard to talk. But he handed me his jacket.
“Here. Put this on.”
“Don’t you want to wear it?”
