The Light Behind His Eyes (Frerard)

I was almost impressed with how early I managed to wake myself up. I glanced over at the clock on the wall-it’s 6:45. I crawled out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, finding Ray at the table eating a bowl of cornflakes. For once in a very long time, he is not in drag. Instead, he is dressed in a white button-up top and a pair of blue jeans.
“You’re up early,” he said, munching on his cereal.
“Yeah, I am. Told you I was gonna be up early to look for a job, didn't I?”
“That's true,” Ray nodded. “Speaking of work, I just thought of something. There's this concert venue close to us that's actually hiring right now,”
“Really?” My eyes lit up. “What's it called?”
“The Tragician. A lot of local bands play there, mostly on the weekends. Me, Bob and Mikey played there a few times. I figured since that's pretty much your thing that you'd be interested in applying there much rather than something like a grocery store or a fast food joint. You know, lame stuff?”
“That's true,” I laughed, looking back at the bitter memories of my old job, working long hours for shitty pay at a local department store stocking shelves. “Do you know what positions this place is hiring for?”
“Not sure. It shouldn't hurt to go look into it,you know?” Ray said, finishing up his cornflakes.
“Yeah, totally. Where's it at?”
“It’s over at the corner of West and Polk Avenue. I would drive you over there to take a peek, but I got work,”
“That's alright. I can take a taxi,”
“You sure? You got money? I can give you some,” Ray reached for his wallet.
“Nah, I got it covered,” I replied, not wanting to come off as a mooch, like the usual. “I should have enough,”
“Alright, man. Suit yourself. I should be home by three,” Ray stood up and made his way to the front door. “If you need to call me about anything, there's my number on the table,” he pointed over at the counter, where a piece of paper with his number scribbled on it laid.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the paper and putting it in my pocket.
“See ya,” Ray exited out the front door, leaving me alone in the kitchen. Feeling my stomach growl with hunger, I grab a couple slices of bread and place them in the toaster. As I wait for my breakfast to be finished, thoughts of last night came to my mind...thoughts about the basement, where Gerard lives. Now that Ray and Mikey are not here, would now be a good time to go down there? Maybe not. It's only like, what, seven in the morning? The worst I could do right now is go down there while Gerard is asleep and wake him up. If he's the kind of person that hates being bothered by unannounced visitors, then chances are he'd really hate it if someone were to interrupt him from his beauty sleep. There's a better time and place to quell all my curiosities about this man.
After eating my toast, I got changed into some clothes Mikey let me borrow, since the both of us are skinny twigs. I phoned up a taxi service and made my way outside, waiting for it to arrive. It only took about a half hour or so to arrive, and even less time to take me to my destination: The Tragician.
The place looks like any other local concert venue, nothing too much out of the usual. It has the resemblance of a movie theater, displaying posters for upcoming shows, but of bands rather than films. I walked over to the front door, finding a small poster with the words “Help wanted. Apply inside” written on it. I can't help but wonder exactly what kind of help this place needs. Whatever it is, I'm willing to take it. I can easily picture myself working at a concert venue much more than a grocery store or a department store, dealing with pompous managers and rude customers on an almost daily basis. I already got a taste of that from my last job, and I of course want nothing to do with it now. Even if this place doesn't take me, I'm at least willing to give it a chance.
I step inside the building, which is of course empty. There's a small ticket booth near the door, followed by a plethora of more band tour posters, ranging from pop punk to heavy metal. Further down the hall is a walkway that leads to an upstairs balcony, and another one that leads to the main floor of the stage. I step inside the room where the main stage is, the floor scattered with remains from what looks like last night's show-empty water bottles, trash, and even abandoned clothing garments like shoes, and-unsurprisingly-bras. What's sorta ironic is that the place has a very old feeling to it, like this place used to be an old movie theater or an opera house, seeing how the theater is adorned with old statues and floral paintings from God knows how long ago. I'm convinced that this place most likely wasn't originally a place where teenagers can go to hang out and see local rock bands play, but rather a place of gathering for a more sophisticated group of people, like older couples gathering to see a symphony or an award-winning play. I'm sure if the people who built this place were all still alive to see what became of their fancy project, they'd drop dead from devastation.
I honestly really like the looks of this place, despite it being empty and trashed. I can only imagine how it is in the evening when there's a show for a good band. I can honestly say that I can picture myself going to an actual concert here, rather than some small gig for a crappy garage band at some local teen club or bar. It would also be one hell of an experience working here. I guess maybe these guys are looking for someone to check tickets and IDs at the door, or maybe someone to clean up the place after a show. Whatever it may be, I'm willing to take it. I kinda really wanna work here now, but first I gotta find the guy that runs this place-
“Excuse me?” A sudden voice emerged. I jumped and turned around, finding a short, blonde-haired woman with thick-rimmed glasses and a plethora of tattoos. She looks to be somewhere in her mid to late twenties.
“Oh, sorry!” She said, smiling awkwardly. “Didn't mean to scare you,”
“Oh, it's fine. No worries,” I replied, thinking about how she had been standing there behind me. I swear, she may as well have teleported to where I was. I didn't hear a damn thing when she walked up to me, not even the clicking of her high heels.
“I'm not sure if this is the case, but…” the tattooed lady paused, her eyes scanning around the room. “Are you here for our job opening?”
“I am, actually,” I said, almost convincing myself that this woman can also read minds as well as teleport. “I heard about this place from a friend of mine. He told me you guys are hiring,”
“Oh, we really need help,” she sighed remorsefully. “We’re almost desperate. Who told you about us?”
“Ray Toro. He told me he and a few others played here a few times, if I'm not mistaken,”
“Ray? You mean Ramona?” The lady’s eyes lit up, her voice filled with joy. She looked like she just won the lottery. “You know that guy?”
“Yeah, I went to high school with him. I actually just moved in with him and some of his friends that also played here, which is kinda why I need a job right now,”
“That's awesome! We can really use somebody, especially someone that knows some of the guys that play here. My name's Monique, by the way. I'm the manager of this place,” she held out her manicured hand, every inch covered in tattoos.
“I'm Frank,” I shook Monique's hand. “Nice to meet you,” I didn't really expect someone by the looks of her to run a place like this. Not that that's a bad thing, it isn't at all. I just kinda expected the manager to be someone a little older, more conservative-looking, and maybe even male. This girl here looks like someone that would maybe go to quite a lot of the shows here, but not work here, let alone be the manager.
“You too, thank you. Why don't you come with me? I'll give you some more details about the job, if you want,”
“Absolutely,”
“Alright, follow me. We’ll head to my office,” Monique turns around and makes her way out to the hallway, her high heels clicking on the hard wooden floor. I follow her down the hall and up a small set of stairs past the band merch booths. We walk inside her office which is adorned with band posters and autographed photos. She sits down at her desk, promoting me to sit down at a chair set in front of it.
“Quite a place you got here,” I said, trying to break the awkward silence that had begun to grow between us. “Sounds like you...uh, know quite a lot of bands here,”
“Well, yeah!” Monique snorted. “I run this place, after all. Anyways…” her tone dramatically changed from upbeat to sullen. “We could really use your help. We had some guys quit unexpectedly, and ever since that's happened, it's been a mess,”
“Well, what kind of help you looking for exactly?” I asked.
“All kinds of stuff, honestly. Cleaning up after shows, taking tickets at the doors, throwing out people that wanna be assholes and cause a ruckus at a show, check IDs and hand out bracelets to people that wanna drink-you are 21, right?” Monique eyed me skeptically.
“I'm 23, actually,” I replied.
“Seriously?” Monique's brows furrowed. “You look so much younger than that! I was almost starting to think you were young enough to still be in high school!”
“Nope, that chapter is done,” I laughed a little. I am not at all surprised she would think I look much younger than my actual age. I am not sure why that is. I get it so much from a lot of people that it's almost ridiculous.
“So yeah, all that stuff I just listed? That's what you’ll be doing, pretty much. Sound good?”
“Yeah, totally,” And now for the big question. “What's the hourly pay? What would my hours be?”
“Twelve bucks an hour. On an average week, you'll be looking at about twenty-five to thirty hours a week,” Monique smiled.
Twelve bucks an hour? Holy shit. That right there is more pay than any of my last jobs, all of them I hated for one reason or another. Plus, with that many hours a week, I would be making a pretty decent amount of money. There's no way in hell I can turn this offer down. I'd be crazy to decline such a deal.
“So…,” Monique continued, folding her hands on top of her desk. “Are you in?”
“Sign me the hell up!” I exclaimed.
“Great!” Monique grinned, pulling out a folder and handing me a stack of papers. “Just read over and sign these papers, then you're in!”
Without hesitation, I grabbed a pen from a mug on her desk and skimmed through all the papers, scribbling my name down on each one. I'm not gonna even bother going around town to turn in job applications. There's just nothing that can top this kind of job. I would be working a decent amount of hours in a concert venue, and make a shit ton of cash in the process (okay, maybe not a shit ton, but more than I have ever been paid at my previous jobs). I just couldn't ask for anything better than this right now. I probably look like a dillweed with a smile stretched across my face right now, but what does it matter?
“Oh, I got a favor to ask,” Monique added. “Would you be so kind to help me clean up the mess in the stage room? It was a really crazy show last night, and...let's just say I didn't come prepared,” Monique eyed her high heels, clearly having second thoughts about her choice of footwear. “You'll be paid handsomely,” she sang.
“Of course,” I said, finishing up signing the papers. If cleaning up the place is gonna take a while, it’s probably a good idea to call up Ray. While I'm at it, I should tell him the good news of my new (pretty rad) job.
“Is it alright if I call up Ray real quick? I'm gonna tell him I got the job,”
“Be my guest. I'll meet you in the stage room. I'll get us both set up to start cleaning,” Monique stepped out of the office, leaving me alone. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Rays number. He answered after the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it's Frank,”
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“I got some good news, man,”
“What's that?”
“I got the job!”
“At The Tragician? Sweet!” Ray exclaimed. “What are your hours? What's the pay?”
“They said I'll be working about twenty-five to thirty hours a week for twelve dollars an hour,”
“Really? That's awesome! Congratulations!”
“Thanks, man. I'm gonna be helping Monique clean the place up, which I'll get paid for. Not sure how long it'll be, so I'm just giving you a heads-up that I might be gone for a while
“Oh, Monique is there? Tell her I said hi!”
“Sure thing. Talk to you later?”
“Yeah, I gotta get back to work. See ya, Frank,”
I hung up and began to make my way down to the stage room, where Monique and are soon to clean up the remnants of last night's show. As I stepped out of Monique's office, I suddenly realized something. It's my first day with a new roof above my head and I've already managed to find a job; a very good one, in fact. I don't know if this is the work of fate, or if I just so happened to luck out. Whichever it may be, I hope to God this is all real. I swear, all of these sudden changes just almost makes me believe that any minute I'll wake up on the hard concrete floor, sleeping on a pile of newspapers in a dark alley.

After what seemed like several hours of me and Monique cleaning, I left the Tragician and waited outside on a bench for the taxi arrive. I checked the time on my phone- it’s a little past four, which means Ray should be home from work, like he said. Unfortunately, that also means I have a lesser chance of sneaking down in the basement to finally get a chance to meet Gerard. Throughout the whole day cleaning the Tragician, my mind stayed focused not only on my new job, but also on the apparent “introvert” living in the basement of my new home. I just can't help but wonder what he spends his days doing down there. How in the hell has he not ever gone stir crazy or bored out of his mind staying in one place for so long day and night? Doesn't he ever get lonely being down there all by himself? I myself have never been very social or outgoing, but every once in a while I feel the need to at least talk to someone and leave the house for a while. There's just gotta be a way I can be able to sneak down there without Ray or Mikey around; I’m not sure of Bob would really give a shit, knowing how he is. He'd be too busy being stoned, eating Oreos and watching episodes of Mr. Bean. I refuse to believe that this Gerard guy is just someone that lives his life downstairs in the dark because...well, just because. There's something Ray and Mikey are hiding from me, and I'm willing to do just about anything to find out what it is.

Notes