Read First Chance for Free Online

Sound check is an important part of throwing a concert. Sure our roadies could tune every instrument for each songs, making sure that every instrument is at the right volume and the microphone is loud enough so the fans can hear my voice over the music. Not trusting anyone but ourselves, the band and I would rather do it.
    There are certain things we would rather be responsible for. If you want shit done right, then you must do it yourself.
    I'm backstage watching some teenage band perform. Apparently, unknown to us until earlier this morning, part of the contest was to allow some of the local campus bands to open for us. There’s quite a bit of talent here. None really are in our typical style though. Usually when you have another artist open for you they are at least in the same genre as you. It helps get the crowd energized, roaring with excitement to see the headliner. Unfortunately, I don’t think these bands are going to cut it.
    Generally I like to be with the band doing some kind of warm-up backstage before we go on. But tonight for some reason I find myself here, on the side of the stage hidden behind a thin red curtain peeking out into the crowd. For a college campus this is a pretty decent sized area, I'm betting they could entertain over a thousand people in this room alone.
    I see a large throng of people near the stage, all in a massive collective group. Everyone shoving each other just to get as close as they can to the stage. People breathing down each other’s necks grinding on strangers bodies. Just to be in reach of the band. It’s a thrill. A rush of adrenaline when you know you've made it that far.
    That close to the people who make the music. I remember being that kid on ce. It seems so long ago. I used to hop rusty metal fences to see my favorite bands perform at music festivals, or if there was no way that I was getting in, I would sit outside the venue, on a sidewalk or in the grass and just listen.
    Sometimes I would go alone, other times I would invite a few friends, who enjoyed music as much as I do. They would sneak a few beers out of their refrigerator at home, pack it in a cooler underneath soda and ice then we would have our own party, with live music. It was kick-ass. Good times, and awesome fucking memories.
    It was also an escape from my shitty existence of a life. Though if I had known that years later I would be where I am now, life would have been so much easier. I have reached every career milestone I have set for myself, for the band. Now a days, it seems like I’m waiting to find that one fucking kid, the same kid I once was with nothing to lose. Hopping fences to hear us. To see us play. That would make our career, my career.
    Returning to my stalkerish peeping , I spot a girl in the far back row but she’s too far away to make out everything. I can see that she’s just sitting there, with an air of righteousness. Her nose upturned in the air. She clearly doesn't want to be here. I laugh out loud. Wait till we hit the stage, and let’s see if I can change her attitude around.
    It’s not common for people like her to be at a concert of ours because usually you have to pay for a ticket, and why would you pay for a ticket to a concert of a band you don’t even like ? I know exactly how I’ll change her outlook. It works like a charm every damn time. I glance at my watch, twenty minutes until show time. Might as well head back to the band. It’s time to rock this fucking house.
    I walk into our makeshift dressing room, Jason is pacing back and forth while taking a shot of Jameson. The guy gets stage fright, even after eight years, guess that's also why he stays behind those drums. “Listen up boys. Jason - you cool it. We've got ourselves one of those uppity bitches in the audience. You know what that means.” I say eyeing each one of the guys, they all nod their heads knowing exactly what our plan will be. “We need to break her yeah?”
    “Hell Yeah!” They yell. We've