My husband smiled back at the pair of clean-cut college boys. “Hi.”
“We just saw you come out of the green room.”
Chris chuckled. The smoke – I’m pretty sure it was tobacco – billowed around us. It didn’t overpower the smell of stale, spilled beer, though. “We know someone in the band,” he answered.
The Masquerade in Atlanta was sold out. My mother would call the Masquerade a “dive”, my description would be decidedly less polite than hers, and those in the music business call it a “popular venue”. The mom in me wanted to know why all these college students weren’t home studying on a Wednesday night. Didn’t they understand that their parents were paying a fortune for them to go to Georgia Tech or Georgia State?
The band, Bear in Heaven, exited the green room and took the stage to a thunderous ovation from the crowd. The floor shook as the kids jumped up and down in rhythm to the first song. The strobe lights flashed, and the room pulsed with energy.
One of the boys leaned closer to my husband. “So which one of the band members is your son?”
Alex, our sixteen-year-old son, choked on his chewing gum and had to be slapped on the back. His father glared at him before turning back to explain that he was not – and he repeated the word not – old enough to be the parent of any of the Bear in Heaven band members. He wasn’t chuckling anymore.
“My friend is Jon’s sister,” I explained to the young man, jerking a thumb at Theresa, who was bouncing up and down behind us. Her red hair flashed in the strobe light, and she sang along with her brother.
The young man nodded at me and then sneaked a quick glance back at Chris. “I guess this isn’t a good time to ask you to introduce me to the band, huh?”
I laughed. “I guess not.”
No matter how old you are – or aren’t – you’ll like the techno-punk sound of Bear in Heaven. Check out their music on Amazon.com or in a record (excuse me, CD) store near you.