Devi took one last look at the address on the slip before knocking on the door. Anxious but confident, she switched her drumsticks between her hands, rolling a beat on her knee, swiping her black hair out of her eyes.
It was a minute before the door opened; a muscular college boy with sideburns and an Abercrombie shirt looked her over. His frat-boy smile reflected an initial approval. �Yes?�
�You the guy with the band?�
His eyes squinted as he noted the drumsticks in her hand with distaste. �I�m the singer.�
�Still need a drummer?�
�Dude, you�re a chick.�
Devi�s eyebrows shot up. �You didn�t notice?� she replied sarcastically, thrusting out her chest.
�And you want to be our drummer?� His eyes, though they had flickered at her response, were confused.
She was getting frustrated. �Well, I blew off my music theory class to get over here. It�d be worth hearing me. I have my set in the van.�
�Chicks can�t drum,� he said decisively. The words stung Devi as he said them. �They�re good for a few things, but a chick drummer is a joke. Sorry, babe.� He slammed the door loudly in her face. Words were exchanged loudly behind it, followed by raucous laughter.
Eight months afterward, Devi was wearing a fishnet top with black leather pants, looking at a poster she had pulled off a telephone pole. �The attitude! The guitars! The chicks! The Buffaloes!� it raved.
�Damn,� she said to the girl beside her. �The Buffaloes are playing against us Saturday night.�
�It doesn�t matter anyway,� Sienna replied indifferently. �You know the club they play at gets a different
�Still,� Devi said quietly. �Even if it�s that way forever, they have all the horny guys in the world backing them. It�s a pretty formidable army.�
Taking a piece of paper out of her backpack, she stapled it on the telephone pole where the poster advertising the Buffaloes had been before. �The Lion�s Mane,� it proclaimed simply. �Hartford�s leading indie rock group takes the Webster for the first time.�
As soon as the poster was safely up, she turned, nearly hitting the chest of a broad-shouldered man. The stripe across the front of his sweaty gray shirt warned her as she looked up � Nate, a common enough figure around this area of Hartford.
�I have a few choice words to say to you this time,� she said coldly. �You�re lucky I don�t throw them around like you do.�
Nate contorted his face into mock surprise. �Who, me? Why, you�re�� � here he ripped the poster back off the telephone pole � �the drummer for �Hartford�s leading indie rock group.� Why should you be bitter?�
�Playing against us Saturday night?� she asked in response. �Doesn�t really matter. We all know who�s getting the bigger crowd anyway.� Devi began to walk away.
�We�re having an after-show party Saturday night at the frat house,� he called after her. �You�re welcome to come � can�t get enough groupies.�
Devi turned angrily, pushed over the line. �You didn�t want me then. Don�t pretend you do now � in any sense.� She spat at him and walked off. Nate made hissing noises at her back.
Sienna walked alongside her. �Ignore him. They were never able to write a song like we can. And their drummer couldn�t keep a 4 / 4 beat in 120.�
Devi�s eyes twitched as the blood ran close to the skin in her face. �And yet they�re the only band around here that�s anywhere near getting a record deal.�
Sienna�s eyes brightened. �You never answered me about the radio festival. They were looking for more acts to play the secondary stages.�
�Hell, we can do it for free. Are The Buffaloes playing?�
�An early slot.� Sienna�s eyes lit up. �We could do some convincing��
Devi thought for a moment, then nodded. �Call up the station.�
The Lion�s Mane stood on stage, waiting for their cue to start the show. Their singer, Violet, stood testing the microphone. Crimson, the bassist, brought a six-pack of bottled water to the stage.
Violet peered over the dirt area to the second stage. The Buffaloes were there, setting up their gear. �I think they�re tuning up.�
�Then so are we,� Crimson replied. She plugged in her bass and plucked a few tuning notes.
Sienna was sitting cross-legged, tuning her guitar quietly. �You do know the guy from Interscope is here today.�
Devi, who had been sitting idly behind the drum set, snapped to attention. �Interscope?�
Crimson nodded assent. �Probably here to seal the Buffaloes a record contract. They�ve been flirting with the idea for months. Sent their best guy today to decide whether they�re worthy.�
There was a banging on the side of the stage, and Devi stood to see who was approaching them; a crowd had yet to gather between the two stages. Nate was grabbing on the edge, trying to climb up. �Devi!�
She walked over to him, where he hung off the stage by his strong elbows. �What do you want?� Devi tapped her combat boot on the stage in impatience. She liked to think that she cut a fearsome figure when she wanted to, and now was no exception. Her rumpled black jeans fell over the steel-toed boots, and a tight black tanktop showed off her strong arms.
�Club Insomnia is doing the after-show rave with the bands. Most of the major acts are going to be there.� He raised one of his hands briefly in invitation. �The bands could go together to refute the rumors, you know, about a rivalry between us.�
Devi sneered in disgust and began to turn away. �They�re not rumors, Nate, and don�t pretend they are.�
�Being seen with us could be a boost in Interscope�s eyes,� he called to her back. She turned to see his eyebrows raised in the most seductive way he could muster. �And who knows what might develop.�
Devi clenched her teeth, tightened her fists and kicked Nate�s hand hard with a steel toe. �Drop dead,� she said simply, scornfully, as he jumped off the stage swearing.
Sienna tapped her on the shoulder. �We start the set in five.�
The crowd between the stages was chanting, testosterone rising through the air. �Buffaloes! Buffaloes!� As Devi looked across the mass of people, who mostly waited for the Buffaloes to start, Nate pointed at her with a derogatory gesture. Devi slit her eyes angrily and tapped off the starting clicks for their first song; they began the set with their well-known opener, �Mace.�
The Buffaloes fans turned briefly, some with a spark of interest. The other band had yet to start, and as the song reached its climax, the crowd shifted and began to jump. Devi was pounding the drum set, sweating but proud � Violet was working the microphone, Sienna sounded great on guitar, and Crimson�s bass lines were standing out more then ever.
The song ended, the fans of both bands cheering. As Violet moved to make a between-song comment, there was a squeal of feedback from the other stage. Nate was about to speak. �Thank you for the background music,� he said in mock gallantry toward The Lion�s Mane. The roused crowd began to scream. �Now it�s time for the concert.�
When the Buffaloes crashed into their first song, the girls in the band turned to Devi, who sat fuming. With a flourish, she flew into a drum riff to begin the next song.
By the time the Buffaloes had ended their first song, The Lion�s Mane was still roaring, and the crowd turned to pay attention. Again, before Violet could move to make a comment, Nate had taken the mike. �We�d sincerely appreciate it if you threw things at them.�
His tone could be taken literally or as a joke, Devi knew, but the drunken crowd was not in a humorous mood. A mob mentality took over; plastic cups, half-eaten food flew through the air toward them. Violet dodged a hot dog, took the mike and responded, �Very mature, for self-proclaimed hairy mammals.� Devi plunged into the next song.
The pattern continued, with taunts going both ways and songs battling for the crowd�s attention. Glass bottles shattered occasionally on The Lion�s Mane�s stage. After an hour of playing, concert officials were gathered nervously on the sides of both stages. They were drastically overrunning their time.
Seventeen songs had gone by. Devi sat through another of Nate�s rants as she gulped water, dying behind the drum set. Violet had offered the Buffaloes time to play their last song with no competing sounds, so long as The Lion�s Mane could do the same; the band had gathered around Devi to discuss what their closer would be.
�We should just close with what we always do,� Violet said desperately. �What are we trying to do, outshine them?�
�No!� Crimson protested immediately.
Sienna nodded firmly in agreement with Crimson. �We can�t let the crowd leave with a better impression of the Buffaloes then us.�
Devi sighed. �Much less the Interscope agent.� She paused to think, trying to recognize who the agent was in the horde. �We�ve never done any cover songs live, have we?�
Sienna�s jaw dropped. �You�re not thinking that. Please tell me you�re not thinking that.�
Devi grinned. �What are they ending with � some song about breaking stuff? Not only will we stomp all over them, we�ll do it in spike heels.�
Crimson smiled. �Let�s go for it.�
Devi turned to the others. �Well?�
Violet agreed, but Sienna�s face was unsure. The other three looked to her, begging silently. She was doubtful for a minute, but as the others watched, she erupted into laughter. �Okay,� she got out. �Let�s take a chance.�
As the Buffaloes graciously passed the crowd over to The Lion�s Mane, Devi took a few more sips of water and breathed deeply. She clicked off the beat and began the simple drum line. Crimson and Sienna joined in after four measures, and introduced Violet�s distorted vocals: �If you want my future � forget my past��.
The crowd was shocked and smiling at the same time � they were covering Spice Girls. They lent a dark tone to the upbeat song, but everyone knew the words. Violet leaned with the mike stand over the crowd, baiting them � �I�ll tell you what I want, what I really really want��.
Devi went on with the drum line, nervous but coping, unsure of how the crowd was reacting. The stream of thrown items had halted, though, and she glanced up to see a jumping, motivated pit. Some were even dancing. The Buffaloes stood on the opposite stage, highly amused by the song, trying to hold a superior air.
She looked to Crimson, looked to Violet, looked to Sienna a second before her solo � then began, banging on the cymbals, bass drum, snare with a final burst of energy. Eighteen songs had taken their toll, but she persisted and ended the song with a crowd-rousing crash.
And they loved it. Jumping, the crowd begged for an encore, having forgotten the Buffaloes. Even the concert officials were no longer nervous about their having taken too much time; they all stood clapping, whistling on the side of the stage. Nate stood bewildered in front of his band, looking desperately for the Interscope agent in the crowd; he was not working his way toward the Buffaloes� stage. Devi stood, a triumphant smile tipping her lips. As she threw her drumsticks to the screaming fans, she raised her head to Nate and blew him a jeering kiss.