“Ralf!” Max greeted his friend, having to almost shout over the canned music filling the bar.
"Baron!”
"So when’s this extravaganza start?”
Ralf shrugged, "When they’re ready I guess. Was just saying to Gab, didn’t recognise her in that stuff.”
"My sister,” I advised.
"The Goth I see on the Express yeah?”
Apparently she’s more famous than she thinks - "Er yeah, possibly.”
"Looking good.”

As if I need his approval!

The Goldene Rose was filling up, a mixture of bikers, punks and I suppose goths, talking, drinking and smoking. Ralf and Max chatted away, I perched on my chair sipping slowly at my bier, disgusting as it is.

"Nuther?” Ralf offered waving his empty bottle.

Max gave a thumbs up and his buddy departed to the bar.

 
"You never said Ralf was coming,” I loudly mentioned into Max’s ear.
"Thought I did,”
"Nope, anything else you didn’t mention?”
"Only how good you look.”

I felt the heat rise in my face.

 
"Here you go” Ralf cheerfully announced plonking bottles on the table.
"Cheers!” Max offered taking his and raising it to chink with Ralf, I followed suit before taking a sip – well it’s expected right?

The tinny music ceased and the PA squealed into life.

‘Bit late folks, their van broke but here they are, BlauHase!’
"Come on, guys,” Ralf urged, "Bring your drinks!”

I tugged at Max’s arm.

He leant down to hear me as the crowd whooped and cheered, "Wassup?”
“Jules said not to get too close to the stage.”
"You won’t see anything back here.”

Which was true enough. I shrugged, if it gets messy we can always move I guess.

‘Thanks Jorge, we are BlauHase!’

To more cheering and jeering, the band went straight into the high octane first number and the gig was on.

 
I'm not really into this sort of music, Jules has tried to ‘educate’ me from time to time but by the second number I was bouncing about like the rest of the audience – and the band. I've got no idea what the lyrics were about, the fact some of my fellow bouncers including Ralf, knew some of the words indicated some sort of following. They went from ‘song’ to ‘song’ with barely a pause, it seemed like just a few minutes had passed when the racket ceased.

‘Time for a break guys, fifteen minutes.’

The now dishevelled and sweaty crowd broke up, I needed a wee so made a beeline for the ladies where I joined the queue.

 
By the time I'd waited, weed and washed everyone was heading back to the stage for part two.

"Gab!”

I looked about and spotted Max.

"What took you?”

I just gave him a look.

“I got you a hot-dog,” he advised, thrusting said item toward me.
So this is the food, "Er thanks.”
I took a bite and followed him back to the expectant crowd, I found a spot off to one side where I could eat in relative peace.
‘Hope you’re all ready, let’s rock!’

The music cranked up and I discovered why my spot was empty – the adjacent speaker! I moved a bit which lessened the assault on my eardrums. I finished the sausage in a bun and found another bottle in my hand, oh well. The crowd were quite vocal by now and I swear I vaguely recognised some of the tunes.

Then I really did recognise one, it was a bit mucked about with but it was definitely old school Iron Maiden – Dad’s a bit of a closet rocker and he sometimes plays this stuff when he’s in the workshop. The lead singer was shaking his head in time to the beat and I found myself doing the same.

I knew these lyrics and I wasn’t the only one here tonight, I loudly, well to my ears, joined in bouncing to the rhythm. Through the opening stanzas then the band fell silent and the crowd screamed out the chorus,

‘Run to the hills, run for your lives
‘Run to the hills, run for your lives’
When BlauHase started up again I continued singing along enthusiastically,
‘Soldier blue in the barren wastes
Hunting and killing their game
Raping the women and wasting the men’

The familiar lyrics of Run to the Hills echoed soulfully around the room but by the final chorus’ it had gone strangely quiet with just the solid beat of the drums and screaming of the base filling the air.

‘Run to the hills, run for your lives
‘Run to the hills, run for your liiiivesssssssss’

I drew in a breath and the crowd started whooping and hollering.

‘Whoa, we have a new Nena Hagen here tonight, you want a job Erdbeere?’ the singer shouted towards me with a grin. Me?
"He means you,” Max shouted in my lug.
"Me?”
"You’ve done it again, Gabs.”

What have I done?

‘No,’ he shrugged, ‘just my luck, Berliner, Berliner!”

The bassist started a meandering solo and the crowd’s attention returned to the stage, I returned to my bottle.

 
"Eurgh!”
"You alright in there,” a female voice enquired.
"Eurgh!” I replied losing what must surely be the last of my stomach contents to the porcelain god.
"Gab, you okay?” Max asked from beyond the cubicle door.
"Urr,” I groaned.
"Out lover boy,” the female suggested.
“I'll be outside, Gab.”
"You can come out now.”

I scrabbled to my feet and flushed the lav before opening the door.

"Geez girl, how much did you have?”
"Er.”

It was a familiar face, one covered in piercings.

“Fritzi?”
"That’s me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

 
"You alright, Gab?” Max asked when I emerged from the ladies with Fritzi a few minutes later. I felt a bit better after a face wash even if that did mean having to repair my makeup.
“I think someone spiked her drink,” my saviour supplied.
"Spiked?”
"Sorry man, I didn’t know,” a clearly intoxicated Ralf stated.
"You did this?” Max spat at his friend.
"Thought it’d loosen her up for you,” he slurred.
"You got any more?” Fritzi demanded.
He pulled a bag from his jeans which Fritzi snatched from him, “I should call the Polizei.”
“I won’t do it again!” Ralf whined.
"Too right you won’t you flippin’ idiot,” Max shouted in his face, “I suggest you go.”

Ralf departed with a speed rarely seen in the inebriated.

 
"Everything alright?”

I looked up to see the BlauHase’ singer behind Fritzi.

"Er yeah, bit unwell,” I allowed.
“I'll leave you to it, if you’re still off in the morning come to the surgery, Gab,” Fritzi instructed.
"Yeah, okay.”
"You,” she poked Max’s chest, "Look after her.”
“I will, thanks.”
"So you in a band or something, Gaby?” Hase man asked, "Stefan by the way.”
"No?”
"You’ve got quite a voice.”
“I've told her before, she upstaged the choir at my cousin’s wedding last week,” Max supplied.
“Didn’t.” I tried to pout but failed.
“I can believe that,” Stefan mentioned, “I was serious earlier, if you ever fancy doing more singing come find us, can’t guarantee fame or fortune but we get regular gigs.”
“I'll er bear it in mind.”
"Here,” he passed me a card, “if you come see us again show this and tell them you’re my guest, right?”
"Er thanks.”
"No sweat, Erdbeere, best go, need to get the kit in the van.”

 
"Best get you home,” Max suggested.
“I guess.”

It’s a good job I wasn’t in heels, I was less than stable on my feet as Max guided me outside into the warm June evening. The sweet odour of weed clouded the entrance, even I know that smell, disgusting, I flapped my hands to clear the air.

Beep, beep!

"Oh sugar,” Max allowed.
"What?” I queried as I fumbled about getting my hair in an elastic.
"Your dad,” he sighed.
"Bum.” I agreed.

We crossed the car park to Mum’s A Klasse.

"Er hi, Dad.”
"Get in,” he ordered.
“I've got my bike,” Max mentioned.
“In,” Dad repeated,” you can fetch it tomorrow.”

Sensibly Max didn’t argue further instead following me into the back seat.

"Belts.”

I struggled to find the catch of course, my head still swimming some.

"How did you know we were here?”
"Your sister – she was a bit concerned about you coming to this place.”
"We’re adults,” I proposed.
"You’re sixteen and living in my house,” he pointed out engaging drive before setting us in motion.

 
Maddy Bell © 09.04.17