Story Time: Mothers Les Paul 5

Braidy and I got out of her car.  “You sure this is the place?”  She asked.  I looked at my phone and then at the address.  “Yeah looks like it.  There’s supposed to be a stairway, ah over there.”  I pointed.  The stairway looked like a hole in the ground with how steep it descended along the side of the building.  This wasn’t the safest neighborhood I thought.  I went over to the trunk of Braidy’s little Honda Civic and opened it to retrieve Annabelle.  After talking with Dr. Davis, I wasn’t going to let her out of my sight.  Braidy had totally helped me out by paying for a new case.  I promised to make it up to her.  It was a black aluminum case that was much slimmer than my bulky cardboard one.  It was nice, worth all $150 she’d paid for it.  So I invited her to my Perl street engagement.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea.  How do you know this chick again?”  She asked.  I shrugged.  “I don’t.  But if you met her you’d understand.”  Braidy scoffed.  “Whatever dude.  I hope this isn’t just a stupid tail chase.”  She nudged me as she walked towards the stairway.  “It’s not.  I promise.  There’s something different about this one.”  Braidy rolled her eyes and walked down the stairs in front of me.  You could hear the music.  It thumped through the concrete over and over again.  It must have been pretty loud inside.  Braidy opened the door and chuckled at what she saw.  “Well, at least we’re going to have a good time.”  She said and patted me on the shoulder as I looked inside.

The basement wasn’t terribly tall, 8 feet at most with pipes and cobwebs littering the ceiling.  Music blasted us as we walked in.  The place was packed with people, some jamming to the hard rock being played.  Some mashing in front of the stage.  These were our people.  “Why didn’t we know about this?”  I yelled at my friend.  She shrugged.  “Who cares! We’re here now!”  Smoke wafted about the visible parts of the area.  Lights flickered as the waves of sound battered them.  It was dirty, grimy, and completely hard core.  I looked to the stage and saw who was playing.  Her fingers moved like lightening over the frets as she commanded a solo.  Strings singing in perfect rhythm.  She played the song at a faster tempo than it called for, which spoke volumes of her skill level.  Her blue highlighted hair caught the lights, her skin flexed as she moved.  She looked like a living piece of art.  Her tank top shirt was low cut, and more of her body art was visible.  She was covered in work.  I was transfixed.  Braidy didn’t say anything either.  She finished her jam and the other guitarist across the stage started playing.  “I know what this is!” I yelled at Braidy.  “This is an Axe battle!”

Speakers sounded with the resonating electric G cord of her opponent.  I looked back at Gabby and smiled.  She was looking right at me.  Those ice blue eyes bore into me.  She bobbed her head and looked at the man across from her while he played.  He was quite clearly a master guitarist.  He missed no notes, made no mistakes, but I was partial to the woman.  When he finished she locked her eyes with me again.  Silence lingered in the building.  The crowed waited.  I waited.  Her eyes were on me.  The edge of her mouth curled into a smile, and then she winked at me before raising her right hand.  With a boom she slammed an E Minor and tore into some song.  I didn’t know it.  I didn’t care.  The speakers pounded straight into my soul.  I could feel my fingers get twitchy as she played.  Anxious to fondle Annabelle.  I looked at Braidy and she was dancing already to the music.  We were going to have a great time.  We were in heaven, and I think I might be in love.