I'm flipping through channels around seven thirty, Tabitha's head lied on my knee and the rest of her sprawled out on the couch, when I hear "-ed Cream, a new upcoming local band" and I stop on the channel four news.
There's the "hip" young anchor for the urban portion of the evening news, her black hair pulled up in a pony tail with a few facial piercings and eye liner done up behind her small glasses. She's reading off the teleprompter, smiling, "Now I went to their last show a few weeks ago and these guys rock! I have with me in the studio the lead vocalist, Tish Swanson."
The camera switches to Tish, her eyes bright and her smile wide, "Thanks for having me, Kate." she beams.
"Thank you for agreeing to come on here on such short notice," Kate laughs as the camera pulls to them both in the shot.
They're sitting on matching, sky blue sofa chairs and a coffee table between them, two similar black mugs in front of each girl. I can tell this is a segment geared towards teenagers, from all the teenish, "x-treme" things gathered up in a semi-cluster in the background.
"Now just so any new comers are watching, what exactly would you say your genre of music is?" Kate starts.
"Oh, I couldn't say, really. I love hip hop, our Drummer, Don, is a country freak, and our guitarists Mike and Riche are both crazy for classic and punk rock," Tish places her hands in her lap, crosses her legs, and thinks thoughtfully, "I guess we're a little of everything. We just write and make up tunes to go with the lyrics."
"Ah, like No Doubt, correct?"
Tish laughs, "You could say that," and I can't help but chuckle myself.
Tish hates No Doubt.
"On that note," Kate goes on, a look of slight more seriousness coming over her face, "In the cases of both No Doubt and Black Eye Peas, at the slight downfall of each bands careers the female lead leaves the three male members and peruses more successful solo lives and the rest of the three members are practially never heard about again. Do you think this will ever happen with Iced Cream?"
A look of shock at the very idea slides smoothly onto Tish's face. Don always told me how Tish stole the spotlight when they went to Theater Camp together.
"Oh god, no! I love my guys too much to do something like that and pull a Fergie."
Kate laughs.
"Nathan," I hear Tabitha yawn and I figure she must have dozed off for a few minutes, "What's this?"
I stroke her hair in that automatic older brother way you get used to, "The news."
"Oh."
She's quiet as she nuzzles my thigh and squeezes herself closer together, still half asleep, and closes her eyes again.
"Well, I see we're almost out of time," Kate looks of camera as Tish takes a sip from whatever was in the black mug. I notice Tish wince slightly. "Do you have anything you'd like to add, Tish?"
"Oh, can I give a few shoutouts?"
Kate smiles pleasantly, "Go right ahead."
"Thanks!"
I've known the band for nearly a month now, but this is the first time I'd seen Tish or any of them in two weeks.
Not to mention Michael.
I skipped their last show for some godforsaken reason I don't remember.
I watch Tish as she speaks, her large silver hoop earrings bobbing, her pixie short pink and blond hair, her face full of expression as she waves to various friends and parents that may be watching.
"Case', Donny misses you! Oh, and Nathan?"
I feel my heart stop a beat as she keeps smiling.
"Don't miss our next show, Mike needs you to be there. Bye everyone!"
The camera cuts to just Kate and she ends the show, "Once again, the band is Iced Cream and you really need to check them out! Their next night is this Thursday at the Civics Center, for more information and tickets, be sure to check out our website for the correct links. This is the Channel Nine eight thirty local news, and we thank you for joining us. Back to you, Ben."
"Thank you, Kate. Now for the Middle News segment of our show, earlier toda-"
I switch to the network that plays cartoons all the time, for Tabitha if she wakes up again, and I go to the hall bathroom.
I splash cold water in my face, mutter the usual shit under my breath, and stand there looking at my reflection.
Why'd on earth did he want someone like me?
Big nose'd, thick wrist'd, sringy hair'd me. I'm not up to his standards, there are way better groupies out there for him, even now at the "pretty alright local band" label.
I reach up my hand from the sink counter and rub my eyes, pulling out from my shirt front that silver chain he always wore. He slipped it on me as I left his dressing room the last time I was with him.
Attached to it was a black guitar pick, he told me it was the first one he ever praticed with, and painted on that was a pink heart with a single slash through it.
It always struck me odd that he wore something like that all the time. Romantic Mikey carrying around a symbol of non-love everywhere he went.
Don joked around with me how much it suited him, that when I wasn't around he was the second bitterest thing in the room.
The first being lead guitar, Richie.
With his arm held tightly around my waist, Mike always called him a homophobe, but I couldn't say. Rich never looked at me so much as spoke to me, he was always spending time outside the band with his steady girlfriend that came to every show, Jenna.
Mike was always giving me PDA's like that when Rich was in the room or in vision of us. Sliding an arm around my shoulder, leaning down to pass a kiss, pulling me into his lap when he sat down. I didn't blame Riche the least when he sometimes snapped at Michael, even I wanted to smack him a few times.
I look in the mirror, watching myself finger the pick in my hand.
I gotta go to the next show.
"These aren't the problem's sixteen-year-olds have," I tell myself quietly, staring into my eyes.
How'd the hell did I get into this?