Music is just another form of art. A form of art that is used to provoke feeling. For me though it wasn’t a matter of provoking a feeling. It was matter of covering up the feelings that was a there; a release of endorphins as the bass of the music forced it’s way through my body. The beat was always up tempo, something that could make my body move.
It was the only way I felt I could express myself. I’d flirt my way into bars or clubs in downtown Boston which wasn’t hard. Just a whisper in the bouncer’s ear about how I left my I.D at home, and my body pressed tight against theirs. It didn’t just work with male bouncers either, the female bouncers more often than not responded in favor to my plea.
It was all down hill from there. A shot or two later, I was on the floor; hot, sweaty and pressed in the circle of even more heat and sweat fueled by more testosterone than most girls could ever imagine having.
There was a time when I wasn’t like this though. There was a time when my tastes in music were simpler. A country song or two, maybe I’d throw in a bit of classic rock. My grandmother really liked the old standards. She said it reminded her of a time when chivalry wasn’t dead. I just smiled and nodded as I got older. Men would be men. They only wanted one thing and it wasn’t a just a good conversation and a warm meal.
For the most part I keep all memories of my mom and my grandmother pushed as far back as I could, but it was harder to do when I was in the Women’s Correctional Facility in Stockton, California. They don’t allow anything over a PG13 rating on the television at anytime, and music had to be centered or known to not have anything ‘graphic’.
It was the first time I had heard an old standard in such a long time. It wasn’t the original though. Not that it mattered it still brought back faint memories; memories before I realized how bad things really were at home.
*******
I can’t wait a moment more
Tell me quando, quando, quando
Say it’s me you adore
And then darling tell me when
“Now there’s something I never imagined.” Lorne’s voice said cutting through the air.
I sat straight up in my chair as my hand flew to remote control that sat on my desk in the office I occupied at Wolfram and Hart, and I quickly fumbled to turn off the stereo. “Don’t you know how to knock?” I said, sneering at the demon. “I swear if you tell anyone I was…”
“Now keep your skirt on princess.” Lorne said, cutting me off.
“Don’t call me that.” I said, standing and moving to the front of my desk
“What? You’d rather me call you prince?”
“I don’t have the shining armor or the white horse.”
“Where’d you learn how to sing?”
I pick up a letter opener and shrug. I knew Lorne was harmless and if I asked him too he’d keep quiet, but it was still not something I shared openly. “My grandma was the choir director at the church she use to go to. During the summers when my mom couldn’t keep me at home I…I spent my days there.”
“Well hats off to granny.” Lorne smiled.
For the briefest moment I smiled too, but just as soon as it was there it was gone again. The letter opener was held tightly in one hand. I wouldn't use it on him but I know he knows my past. Angel filled him probably. “If you tell anyone…”
“I won’t tell anyone, but um…between you and me? You’re not going to get what you’re looking for staying locked in this office. Go out and have fun while you still can.”
Fun? Yeah right. How much fun can a Slayer have working freelance for an evil law firm when we‘re suppose to be the good guys?
broken
awake
artistic