Phoenix put her book down and stretched. It was early, really she was sure that she should have gone to sleep, but the book had been really good, so she hadn't even thought about going to sleep. Pushing her long black hair out of her face, she went into the bathroom of her relatively large apartment and started the shower. After a quick shower, she got out and plugged in her hair straightener, before washing her face, and putting her make-up on. First was the black eyeliner, which was just a soft line around her eyes, then she put on her eyeshadow, which was purples to bring out her eyes, brown mascara, a dark red lipliner, on light, and dark red lipstick with gloss, the stay on type. After putting on the blush softly, she began straightening her hair.

About half an hour later, she walked out of her apartment, in jeans that had little flaming guitars sewn around the legs, and a tight red halter top. Her stiletto heels tapped on the sidewalk as she walked, going in the direction of the local cafe, feeling up for some coffee.

Phoenix looked a head of her and saw the messy hair that she recognized so well and smiled. "Sethy." She said as she hurried up to him and put her arm around his shoulders. Looking at his face, she had to laugh. "You look like hell warmed over, kid." She told him, pushing her hair over her shoulder. She walked next to him, her arm still draped over his shoulder. "What are you doing up, you should still be asleep." She lectured.

Phoenix laughed. She loved that nickname, though she would only let her band-mates call her that. When he told her that she would grow taller, she shook her head. "I didn't sleep either.It's hard to go to sleep when there is a good book in your hands." She told him, "You know that you need your sleep. You will be burnt out by our first big concert. She heard his phone ring and looked down, "Wonder who that is." She said, knowing it was one of the girls freaking out most likely. She would probably be getting a call soon as well.

Phoenix smiled at Betty Liz's yelling. She was awfully excitable. "Hey, Betty Liz." She said near Seth's head so that she could be heard. She looked down to see she had a text message from Harper. "Tell her to come meet us, Harper is at the cafe too." She said, using the keyboard on her otherwise touch screen phone. 'We are on our way there. Seth, me, and maybe Betty Liz.' She typed, then she sent it out.

Phoenix smiled at Betty Liz. "I got none, Bets." She told her, sitting down to think about what kind of coffee she wanted to stay awake. "You are way too hyper for having gotten sleep." She said, grinning slightly. "I know that if I were asleep and had to wake up, I'd be dead on my feet. As it is, I don't have any sleep to be missing. Though, I miss my book." She looked at the two. "So, how are you feeling about this tour?" she asked.

Tom's eyes slid open as his alarm clock blared out its usual selection of decent rock. This morning, it was "Girls, Girls, Girls" by Motley Crue, and it was a good wake up tune if he could ever think of one. Turning it up, he got out of bed and rubbed the sleep buggers from his eyes before heading into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, scrubbing his face, shaving and putting on some fresh deodorant, Tom left his bathroom and went to his closet. He was not a guy who cared much about fashion, but he did have his own sense of style.

This morning, he settled on a pair of intact blue jeans, a black Def Leppard shirt with a picture of the original band members underneath the band name emblazoned in the middle, and the vest he had worn during his days with his first band, Trigger. He had his memorialized after the suicide of their lead singer, Barry Henderson, just like the rest of the surviving members of the band. On the back was emblazoned their band name, and underneath that said "In memory of Barry Henderson". Closing his closet, he slipped on his shoes and grabbed his guitar case before heading out the door.


The band usually met at some new age cafe called Arrogance to Science, which was probably the store owner's attempt to draw in fans of today's punk rock bands. Entering the cafe, he was greeted by the smell of stale marijuana and saw that his friends had all ready arrived. Betty Liz was apparently showing her distaste for something as he took a seat amongst them. "And how are you all this fine September morning?" He asked in a cheery tone as he propped his guitar case against the table.

Phoenix looked over at Tom and gave him a smile to match his mood. "I'm pretty good, honey." She greeted in her usual Southern accent. She looked at his guitar and smiled, before looking back at him. "How are you this morning?" She asked, deciding on a coffee. "I take it you are doing well?" She asked, winking at him playfully. She got along better with him and Betty Liz, because they were her age, and she didn't feel like she was messing them up too bad.

Tom decided to order a white chocolate mocha, since the barista was over taking orders. "I'm doing well, Phoenix," he said in response to her first question. The guy returned with his coffee, and Tom took a sip from it. It was delicious, and he felt more energized. Her wink made him smile a bit. "Yeah, I'm doing well. I saw an article about us in the paper. It said that we were the 'band for all America'. I assume that means that we are liked by all of America, regardless of age and music choice. I would say that's one heck of a compliment." Taking another sip of his coffee, he leaned back and decided to see what was going on with his friends by letting them converse amongst themselves.

Tom smiled. Betty was so random and funny that it made it impossible not to smile around her. Apparently, she had decided to give him a nickname originating from a GPS system, which was fine with him. "Yeah, it is kind of uncomfortable, but it could be worse." After hearing her question, he considered it. "Both, actually. I'm excited that we're going on tour, but I still miss Barry. It's been a year, but I still can't believe it sometimes." His mind flashed back to that time momentarily.

It had been a rainy December night, the 20th if he recalled correctly, and he, Michael Benton and John Holt had been heading back to the house they shared with Barry after a night of hanging out. Michael had been their drummer, and a damn good one. John was their bass guitarist, and he could play perfectly alongside him, their guitars working in harmony to produce great rock. Tom had inserted the key, and when they walked in, they were greeted with a horrible sight. Barry had hung himself from the ceiling fan, and there was a suicide note on the table. It detailed his longstanding depression over the fact that he was impotent, and that his girlfriend had left him for a co-worker. They called the police and the mdical examiner, who pronounced him dead at the scene. Plenty of tears had been shed, for that night had not just marked the end of their lead singer's life, but it had also marked the end of Trigger. They split off, each wishing the other well, and Tom managed to land a position in a surprisingly good band for having a couple teens in it.

Shaking off the memory, he smiled and took another sip. Now was not the time to dwell on the tragic past. Now was the time to dwell on the band's bright future.