I adore this time of day. It's 5:30pm and the sun is just starting to drop in the sky. The spring air is like a jacket on a cold day: you know you're surrounded by cold but you can't help but feel warm. Birds start to become more active around this time, the baby magpies in the tree across from my house are fledglings now. I love listening to them as I walk to the bus stop. I want a tattoo of a magpie one day, they're just so beautiful. I'm wearing a new pair of dungarees I recently made, the pattern is a design from a Western Australian indigenous arts centre. The rich ochre tones are stunning. We had an indigenous exhibit a few years ago at the gallery. It taught me to appreciate the long enduring history and the stories these paintings tell. Growing up, we weren't taught about the history of our nation pre-invasion. Back then, I wasn't aware of the incredible culture of traditional owners, us white Australians have a lot to learn. My phone buzzes.
"We're keen, see you soon," says Zoe. Zoe and Kay have invited me to a gig in Mount Lawley, there's a converted theatre which often has up-and-coming bands playing. I don't go to gigs often, but every time I do, I think I should go more. The theatre isn't too far from my house and after a short bus ride I walk into the foyer. Zoe is leaning against the ticket booth, she's got a leather jacket over a white band shirt, her jet-black hair is in a messy bun and a few loose strands frame her high cheek bones, she is death staring into the distance.
"Zoe!" I call out. She turns to me and smiles brightly, "Hey bud," she says, reaching out for a handshake. I have a fleeting question about whether she calls people that in the bedroom, but I shake it from my mind.
"Kay's just in the loo," she says, "Do you want a drink?" I admire the way she carries herself. She has a confidence bordering on arrogance, but she gets away with it.
"Sure," I say. She leads me to the bar, a hand around my waist.
"What do you want?" she says,
"Oh, you don't have to," I say, why do so many women keep treating me like this? I am bewildered, and euphoric.
"What would you like?" she says, looking at me intently.
"Ah, a glass of red," I stumble. What was that in her eyes? Oh boy, breathe. Breathe.
A pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind and Kay's head pops over my shoulder, her hips press into my back, the two of them are certainly more confident today than last time. We walk into the dark auditorium as the warm-up band kicks off. They're a group of early twenty-year-olds called "Satan's Daddy" The vocalist has a deep, gravelly voice as she sings about riding the devil's face. My god, what would 13-year-old me think? I didn't actually ask what sort of bands would be playing. To be honest I was just excited to see them again.
"Whoa, good Christian band," I say.
"Good catholic girls," Zoe smiles.
"Who's the big band after?" I ask.
"Oh, you'll love this," Kay shouts over the music, "Devils Cum Rag". I let out a snort that shoots wine up the inside of my nose, coughing and splattering as Kay hits my back and Zoe laughs.
"Jesus Christ," I say.
"Nope, he's not here bud," Zoe laughs. We find a spot near the front of the crowd and listen as the band starts their next song.
"I put the lick in catholic," the singer growls, over a heavy baseline and hectic drumbeat.
"What did she say?" I say, turning to Kay, she just laughs. I nod my head in unison with the crowd. Zoe leans down and rocks her head back and forth as her wild hair flies out. There's a good crowd here, a lot of metal heads and then some ravers who seem a little lost, but happy nonetheless. After a while the warm-up band wraps up their set.
"Thank you, Perth. We're Satan's Daddy and you're all damned," says the singer. The crowd laughs loudly and cheers. The lights cut out and the venue is plunged into darkness. A single light flickers on centre stage. A man with waist-length black hair and a pale face stands in front of a microphone. His lips barely move as an eerily deep voice glooms; "Enter, the end times."
A slow, heavy, drum line kicks off behind him as the lights come up on the drummer: a big woman with a bald head and white contacts. The cheers from the crowd grow as the singer continues. "Slash back from the cracks of Tartarus" comes porcine squeal from the speakers. The lights kick on full, and two guitarists appear from the dark. Kay turns to me, smiling. She say's something I can't hear, while pointing at the stage, and jokingly pokes me in the ribs. I nod back at her and she pulls me in for a side hug. It's hard to understand the first few songs, the singer has a pig squeal and the words blend together. The vibe is pretty clear though. As they wrap up the third song the singer steps back and a woman appears from the side of stage. She has white hair and an even paler complexion. One of her eyes is jet-black and the other white. The guitarist plays a slow, mournful melody as the woman sings a haunting song; the words are easier to make out this time. Zoe turns to me, smiling, and puts an arm around my waist. I put my hand on her back and she turns to me. She looks as though she's trying to read a book written backwards. She grips the belt loops on my dungarees and pulls me against her. The melody swells in the background as I lean down and kiss her. Her big belt buckle presses into me as she bites my lip hard and I gasp. Her hand slides to the small of my back and she grinds against me to the beat. Around us the crowd sways in unison. I lift my hand to her head and take a fistful of hair, I hold it tightly as we kiss. She pulls back and pants, lifting her eyes to me she says "Can we go to yours?"
"Yes," I say, thankful that I have the house to myself. I sit in the front of Kay's car as she drives, it's a strange feeling. We are talking as though we are on a road trip, pretending not to know the destination. We rock up at my house and enter the living room.
"Do you guys want a drink?" I ask.
"Sure," smiles Zoe, lazing on the chaise section of the couch.
"Love one," adds Kay, sitting cross legged beside her. I pour a glass of fireball for each of us and sit down beside Zoe, she rests a hand on my thigh as we talk.
"That was a hectic gig," I laugh.
"Haha, well I did wonder if we should have warned you."
"It was awesome," I clarify "Hilarious having grown up religious."
"Well, it can't be the worst sin you've ever committed," Zoe teases, a devilish look in her eyes. I grin, taking a sip of my whiskey. The cinnamon burns and sooths my throat.
"What would that be?" Kay asks flirtatiously, tucking her hair behind her ear.
