H
Hex Angel
Guest
"Goddamn it, Max! What the f**k were you thinking?"
The question has been posed by one very angry looking goth girl. Dressed in a black velvet dress, black PVC corset, red ribbons braided into her black hair, and black platform boots, she's sitting on a beaten- up old couch, flanked by four men in leather/PVC outfits. One of them holds a bass, two hold guitars, and one has a pair of drumsticks in his hand.
The target of her verbal abuse, Max, is wearing a cheap looking suit that doesn't hide his gut, and a pathetic combover.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Angel.... six hundred bucks for one night of work isn't bad at all, is it now?"
The girl - Angel - stands up and takes two angry steps toward Max before being restrained by the bassist.
"Let me go, Boris.... we don't need him screwing up our management anymore."
Boris, the bassist, doesn't let go, however. "You're not fired, Max," he says, "but you should've known better than to book us in a predominantly frat boy club. We're not exactly Blink 182, ya know."
A pair of roadies come through the room, carrying various parts of a drum set. The bass drum has a very intricate logo on it with the band's name - Valerian's Garden - in purple and red. The roadies exit the way they came in, apparently emptying the stage.
"Mikey," says Max to the guitarist, "can you explain to your girlfriend why I booked this club?"
Mike turns to Angel with a serious look on his face. "I went with Max to scope the place out on Wednesday, and the manager pretty much said he didn't care what type of music we played as long as we had a hot girl singing."
Angel's face turns from a mixture of anger to confusion.
"So what then," asked Larry Kruspe, holding his drumsticks in hand, "this was just a cash- cow show? How is this helping us get the attention of ANY industry people? Angel is right, we can't just f**k around southern California taking gigs wherever we can get 'em.... and we can't spend every weekend playing for pocket change at FTN."
Larry leaves the room, with the second guitarist, Travis, following. Mike lets go of Angel's arm and motions to Max to leave her alone. They exit the room, and Angel sits back down on the couch. Boris takes a seat next to her.
"I don't know what's going on anymore, Boris," says Angel, "You and me started this band two years ago and wrote some pretty killer songs together, didn't we? What's happened lately?"
"I really don't know," replied Boris, "I think part of it is when Mike hired Max to be our manager, we all got a little complacent."
Angel shot Boris a dirty look.
"Except you, of course, Angel. How many songs have you written in the past week?"
"Three."
"Stunning. But the problem is that we've got a contract with Max, and it's unbreakable unless ALL FIVE of Valerian's Garden says so. And I don't think Mike is gonna go along with it."
"That's a problem. Mike and Max are old friends."
"You're his girlfriend, you don't think you can convince him?"
"Are you kidding? He joined the band when we started dating, started using 'Valerian Nevenrose' as his stage name, and before either one of us knew it, we were known as 'Valerian's Garden.'
"Hey, that's better than not having a name."
Angel rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "All I'm trying to say is that this is Mike's band now, not ours. Not mine."
Angel stands up and begins to leave the room. On the way, she undoes her corset and drops it on the floor, revealing a red tube top.
"Things are gonna change, Boris," she says, "Things are DEFINITELY gonna change."
FADE
The question has been posed by one very angry looking goth girl. Dressed in a black velvet dress, black PVC corset, red ribbons braided into her black hair, and black platform boots, she's sitting on a beaten- up old couch, flanked by four men in leather/PVC outfits. One of them holds a bass, two hold guitars, and one has a pair of drumsticks in his hand.
The target of her verbal abuse, Max, is wearing a cheap looking suit that doesn't hide his gut, and a pathetic combover.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Angel.... six hundred bucks for one night of work isn't bad at all, is it now?"
The girl - Angel - stands up and takes two angry steps toward Max before being restrained by the bassist.
"Let me go, Boris.... we don't need him screwing up our management anymore."
Boris, the bassist, doesn't let go, however. "You're not fired, Max," he says, "but you should've known better than to book us in a predominantly frat boy club. We're not exactly Blink 182, ya know."
A pair of roadies come through the room, carrying various parts of a drum set. The bass drum has a very intricate logo on it with the band's name - Valerian's Garden - in purple and red. The roadies exit the way they came in, apparently emptying the stage.
"Mikey," says Max to the guitarist, "can you explain to your girlfriend why I booked this club?"
Mike turns to Angel with a serious look on his face. "I went with Max to scope the place out on Wednesday, and the manager pretty much said he didn't care what type of music we played as long as we had a hot girl singing."
Angel's face turns from a mixture of anger to confusion.
"So what then," asked Larry Kruspe, holding his drumsticks in hand, "this was just a cash- cow show? How is this helping us get the attention of ANY industry people? Angel is right, we can't just f**k around southern California taking gigs wherever we can get 'em.... and we can't spend every weekend playing for pocket change at FTN."
Larry leaves the room, with the second guitarist, Travis, following. Mike lets go of Angel's arm and motions to Max to leave her alone. They exit the room, and Angel sits back down on the couch. Boris takes a seat next to her.
"I don't know what's going on anymore, Boris," says Angel, "You and me started this band two years ago and wrote some pretty killer songs together, didn't we? What's happened lately?"
"I really don't know," replied Boris, "I think part of it is when Mike hired Max to be our manager, we all got a little complacent."
Angel shot Boris a dirty look.
"Except you, of course, Angel. How many songs have you written in the past week?"
"Three."
"Stunning. But the problem is that we've got a contract with Max, and it's unbreakable unless ALL FIVE of Valerian's Garden says so. And I don't think Mike is gonna go along with it."
"That's a problem. Mike and Max are old friends."
"You're his girlfriend, you don't think you can convince him?"
"Are you kidding? He joined the band when we started dating, started using 'Valerian Nevenrose' as his stage name, and before either one of us knew it, we were known as 'Valerian's Garden.'
"Hey, that's better than not having a name."
Angel rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "All I'm trying to say is that this is Mike's band now, not ours. Not mine."
Angel stands up and begins to leave the room. On the way, she undoes her corset and drops it on the floor, revealing a red tube top.
"Things are gonna change, Boris," she says, "Things are DEFINITELY gonna change."
FADE