Playing Lives

"Grace, you have to get out more often!" Grace's roommate, Pam, kindly informed her.

Grace rolled her eyes at her best friend and roommate of two years.

"Just cause I appreciate the finer things in life such as music, writing, and reading doesn't mean I'm a total loser yaw know. I'm not into the hardcore and frat parties like you. I have a job to do and a scholarship to maintain." Grace sighed, setting down the glasses that framed her heart shaped face while rubbing her eyes which were strained from staring at her laptop for so long.

"I'm not asking you to go with me to a frat party! C'mon Grace! We're just going to go to the bar to check out a new band I've been hearing about. You've been staring at that screen for ages now."

"Pam, you know how I hate listening to 'no namer bands'. In case you haven't noticed, they usually suck." Grace stared straight at her friend, looking for any trace of rejection. Instead, there was a kind of stubbornness written all over Pam's face that could not and can not be defeat.

Standing at 6'2 along with a few model jobs here and there including the famous Abercrombie and Fitch, Pam was strikingly gorgeous with long wavy red-brown hair and icy blue eyes. Her eyes seemed to stare directly into Grace, as if she could read every though in Grace's head.

Instead, Pam let a sad, puppy like pout expression come over her tan face.

Sighing, Grace contemplated for another second before she curtly nodded.

"We can't be out long though. I have to finish this critic and turn it in Wednesday morning to Eddie the molesting Nazi."

'Eddie the molesting Nazi' was Grace's boss at the New York Post, where Grace worked in the music critics section. Though he was a 43 year old man with a wife and family, he frequently hit on his female employees, including Grace who was his youngest employee at 20.

"Yea. Yea. Yea. And I bet you also have a ton of stuff to do for you Creative Writing class too right?"

Laughing at Pam's sarcastic tone, Grace nodded her head and replied back, "Actually, I do have a ton of stuff to do for Creative Writing and Journalism." Grace chuckled hearing Pam groan and kindly reprimanded her, "Sorry, not my fault future designers don't have as much work as me."

A sophomore at NYU, Grace held extraordinary writing talents that earned her numerous scholarships for the abundant writing contest she had won back in high school. Though she was not model gorgeous like Pam, she withheld a different beauty that not only graced her physical features but also inside.

"Let's get you dressed. You can't go out looking like Mrs. Scrubs. Maybe I can…" Hope slowly bubbling into Grace's tone.

"No Pam! Last time I let you dress me up like I'm a freaking Barbie you made me wear a short black skirt where you could see my butt!"

"Ah c'mon Grace! Where's the fun, slutty Grace I know is dying to come out."

"She died along with your leopard print skirt."

"Please?" Pam begged.

Grace shook her head with defeat and responded, "Ah, it's not fair you're my best friend who knows I'm a total pushover. Ok… This is the last time though!"

The two best friends left the house looking like super models that had just stepped off the runway. Grace donned a casual, yet flirty violet dress that made her violet eyes stand out distinctly against her black hair. Pam, on the other hand, wore a tight leather black mini skirt with a short red halter top. While this on someone else might have looked slutty, it made her look absolutely smack dab dazzling compared to Grace's striking elegance.

Pam raised her right hand for a taxi and in two seconds three taxis were coming towards them. Grace rolled her eyes and commented, "I'll never understand how you do it."

Pam laughed and replied back, "Grace babe, the same exactly thing happens to you too except while I only get three cabs racing towards me, you get at least a dozen."

They walked into the closest cab near them and Pam ordered the driver, as though she was in a high class limo instead of a NYC taxi, "29th Club please."

Grace's eyes grew wide as she choked out, "the 29th Club?! It maybe a Monday but it's always packed and impossible to get into! And when you told me about seeing a band, I thought it was going to be at just a some club. Not the 29th!"

Hearing Grace mutter under her breath, Pam turned to hear Grace grumble, "How did I ever become friends with this daft girl…"

They arrived five minutes later in front of the posh and famed club. 10 o'clock and the lines were monstrous seeming as though they could extend for miles and miles. Pam gracefully stepped out of the taxi with Grace following her as she went in front of the line and whispered something into the bouncer's ear. The bouncer, an attractive 23 year old California-looking guy, smiled down at Grace with lust in his eyes as he nodded and smiled, opening the door for her. Grace rolled her eyes at Pam's methods.

'She always knew how to use her sexuality' Grace mused. They stepped inside a crowded bar while a band was playing. Pam squealed and pointed to the band, saying "That's the band I was telling you about! Aren't they absolutely brilliant? And… the lead singer is gorgeous."

Pam's eyes swept over the lead singer who was clutching a Blue Taylor acoustic guitar. Instead of gazing at his distinct chiseled features that were definitely 'drool worthy', she ogled longingly at his acoustic guitar.

"I told you he was hot!" Pam shouted over the deafening crowd that consisted of many loaded teenage girls that probably lived on the Upper East Side with their wealthy fathers.

"I'm not staring at him! Look at his guitar! It's a Blue Taylor, 600 series! It's GORGEOUS."

Pam made a gasping sound, and retorted back in a sarcastic tone, "Omg Grace! That's totally cool. Except that it's just a stupid guitar. Look at HIM."

Grace rolled her eyes and switched her view from the guitar to the lead singer himself. With gorgeous green eyes and floppy brown hair, he stood up on the stage singing and playing effortlessly as if he was merely walking. His eyes were closed, showing his passion for the music as he open them again. His eyes looked at Grace, setting a jolt through here. She stood there, transfixed upon him as she felt something she never felt before. A longing in her heart she hadn't felt for such a long time that stirred up old emotions that were best left in the past.

Grace stood there, admiring his handsome face and distinct muscular body, until his eyes swept over Pam, resting there. Grace watched him lay his eyes on hers as Pam looked back at him with a seductive expression.

Grace dropped her eyes away from him, disappointment lingering in her mind.

'What is it about Pam that men go crazy over? Oh wait right. She's drop dead gorgeous compared to her boring best friend who's far from the model she is.' Grace thought.

Though Pam didn't know it, she was far from boring. Her long black hair and dark blue eyes, almost violet, made her look like a far away princess from a fantasy story.

She closed her eyes from the world she had learned to despise, listening to the melodic tone of his voice. It was deep and husky and sent shivers down her spine. The band was amazing, their music somewhere in-between rock and alternative. They were somewhat like Coldplay/Dave Matthews meets Creed.

Mentally, Grace was already writing a ravishing review about this band, noting their amazing guitar riffs and incredible melodic voice. She opened her eyes and turned to a girl next to her, and asked, "What band is this? They're amazing."

The girl turned and gave her a friendly smile, responding back, "Yeah, they're something special. The band is called Front lines. You know the lead singer, Gabe Reeds?"

Grace shook her head, declaring, "This is my first time to ever see the band. The lead singer is really talented though because of how great his voice matches with his band. Though I would have to say his looks rival that of his guitar. Both absolutely beautiful…"

Grace, who was speaking her thoughts, blushed when she realized she was talking aloud. The girl next to her laughed, and retorted back, "Don't worry about it, girls are always ogling over Gabe though I can tell you're different then the rest of them. Gabe's my younger brother. I'm Catherine. And you are…? You seem to know a lot about music."

"I'm Grace Aden. Actually, I'm a music critic for the New York Post."

"So you're here to critic them…? Wow!"

Grace chuckled before answering, "Actually, I'm here because my best friend dragged me. Though I have to say, my boss wanted me to write about a new, talented uprising band. I think Front Lines is perfect for it."

Catherine's eyes went huge, before she broke into a blinding smile and slung her arm over Grace's shoulder.

"How would you like to meet the band and actually get insight info and perhaps an interview…?"