The Rebel playing a local gig in Rome, GA (12/4/21)
Dec 8, 2021 22:56:53 GMT -6
President Mac, Jason Anderson The Boss, and 1 more like this
Post by Melinda Rhodes on Dec 8, 2021 22:56:53 GMT -6
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Rome City Auditorium, Rome GA 12/4/21 - CAMERA OFF
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The Rome City auditorium is dimly lit with only a bit of blue and red mood lighting to give illumination over the crowd. At the very bright center of everyone’s attention is The Rebel Star, Melinda Rhodes standing upon the stage overlooking the massive room. The people were jam packed as the house almost sold out to the most popular act in this town, the band simply titled “Yet To Be Named.” She’s sporting a simple black tank top, jeans, and high top sneakers with spiked bracers on her tattooed wrists, her shock blond hair spiked and her face drenched in sweat. On either side of her is her husband, James Spade on lead guitar and an old highschool friend, the muscular Arron “Man-Beast” Murdock on bass, and to the back of all three of them is her uncle Jody Rhodes on drums. She’s jamming along to the beat, backing up the lead guitar for a moment with deft movements of her fingers dancing up and down the fretboard of her Shecter Hellraiser guitar, until finally moving up to the microphone for the final song.
“Pain is my medicine,
Leads me down the path again!
You hate for all the wrong reasons,
Ever changing like the seasons!
You cry at me like the bitch you are,
Honey don't you start that war!”
“MOCKERY IS THY NAAAMMME!!!,
SHOW ME ALL OF YOUR PAAAINNNN!!!!”
Rhodes continues to sing, lifting her guitar back into her hands to accompany her husband’s lead track once more for added depth to the song.
“Listen to this lullaby,
Listen baby, don't you cry!
Fluttering leaf on the wind of your end.”
“You think you can stop me?
No NO!
Think you can drop me?
No NNNOOOO!!”
She throws her fist into the air with each no, the crowd following in suit, screaming no right with her! Mel puts her hands around the microphone housing, just below the pick up, her lips nearly pressed against it as she closes her eyes, singing oh so softly.
“The power isn't in your hand!
We don't obey your command!
Oh honey, you try to rule!
Tell us we are oh so cruel!
Bitch please,
You're the disease!”
She then returns to the death metal roar from before, pulling back slightly from the microphone to keep from feedback killing her custom sound system.
“PAIN!!!
IT IS MY MEEEDDIIICCCINNNEE!!!
PAIN!!!
MAKES ME FEEL ALIVE AGAIN!!!
PAIN!!! PAIN!!!! PAAAAINNN!!!”
The Rebel lets out a little chuckle, looking around at her bandmates for a moment before rejoining the guitar section as they once again hit those familiar notes but with far more emphasis!
“Going down the path aaagggaaaainnn!
Pickin’ a fight you cannot win!
Yeah sure, commit another sin!!
Cry CRY CRRRRYYY BITCH!!!”
The rhythm slows down, Melinda swaying to it in an almost hypnotic fashion, many in the crowd following her motions. The two guitars switch it up and suddenly she’s playing the lead riffs in a different key, darker and more ominous.
“...and there you are, at my feet,
Suffering in defeat!
I said Honey, don't start that war!
Now you’re bleeding…”
She rushes up to the mic to grip it once more and roar into it!
“…BLEEDING ON THA FFFFLLLOOOORRR!!!”
The Rebel bounces back as the tempo kicks back up and the guitars kick into high gear, Jody bashing those drums with all his strength as Murdock hits stronger chords on the bass. This goes on for a moment of self-indulgence by the band before Mel steps back up to the mic once more.
“Oh how you tried to rule!!!
Paying for your crimes, so very true!
Bitch please,
You were the disease!”
Then all at once, the music stops, all band member’s hands up in the air…
“And pain….is…thhhaaaaa ccccuuuuuurrrrrreeee!”
With one final run of the drums by Jody, the song closes out and Mel lowers her arms to a cheering crowd.
Rebel: Thank y’all for coming! You’re fucking amazing!!! Catch me in the Estádio do Maracanã in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil at EWC’s WRESTLEFEST!!!! Tickets are on sale at EWC dot com and you can order the PPV on multiple streaming platforms!!!
With high-gives given all around, the band members then take one final bow before exiting backstage. After packing their gear up into the van, the band meet in the back for a moment. Murdoch tosses Mel a bottle of water, which she catches, twists open, and downs in one shot. Singing is thirsty work.
Rebel: Thanks, Arron!
Murdoch has a voice that very much matches his large, impressive frame. The shirtless, deeply tanned and heavily tattooed monster of a man speaks in a deep, rough baritone that would likely give even the likes of James Earl Jones’ Darth Vader a run for his money.
Murdoch: The crowd really loved that set. Are we ever gonna’ be more than a Youtube band that plays local gigs?
Jody chuckles, the older rock veteran with his short, spiked gray hair simply shaking his head. The man sports the typical uniform of denim and leather, his look being a cross between biker and classic street rocker. His voice came from a throat that sounded full of gravel, aged even well beyond his sixty years on
Jody: You say that, but we’re making more money by stickin’ to Youtube, releasing the occasional album, and keeping her skills in check by playing local gigs. I’m gettin’ too long in the tooth to be traveling all over the world like the good old days.
James chimes in as he packs away his old Gibson Sunburst in a nearly as old and well kept brown leather case, the brass latches clicking softly as he shuts it. The retired wrestler looks to still be very much in good shape, carrying a youthful appearance that is only undone by his greying long brown hair and beard stubble. His tenor voice is only a little roughened by age and lifestyle choices of old.
James: You’re only as old as you feel, Jodes.
Jody: *chuckling* Well I feel pretty damn old!
Melinda plops down in a folding steel chair, legs crossed with one arm over the back. She tosses her now empty water bottle into a nearby trash can.
Rebel: With me starting back full time on Monday Nights working for EWC Brawl, running all of my side businesses, and Southern Rebellion Wrestling, I don’t know. Been thinking about paying somebody to run some of these other things for me so I have more personal time, but then I get the problem of what if they don’t run those ships as well as I want them to?
Murdoch sits on an ice chest beside her, shrugging.
Murdoch: Well, you fire and hire till you find someone who won’t screw up. Simple.
Mel quirks her brow at her bass player.
Rebel: I know you’re a Harvard business major, but you’d think you’d have better advice than hire and fire till you get the right fit.
Murdoch: Better than your average bass player who can’t even tie their shoes, let alone be bothered to learn songs.
Rebel: True!
After a few minutes of relaxing the group leave the venue and split up, with Murdoch and Jody taking their own cars while Mel and James get into their black panel van and head for home. While James drives, Mel is busy flicking her thumb across the screen of her phone, handling business even at the midnight hour over social media and various messaging apps.
James: You’re always on that damn phone these days.
Rebel: Because shit’s always happening with my promotion and I gotta’ stay on top of it.
The former Wildkard just shakes his head a bit, staring at a set of bright red tail lights a couple car lengths ahead.
James: Murdoch wasn’t kidding you know. You can’t keep working at the level you’re working and live a good life. Hell me and Lana barely see you at the house anymore unless you’re playing a gig that weekend. We spend more time watching you on a stream from a hotel room during business trips and jobs than we do in person anymore.
This was a conversation that did, in fact, always irritate Melinda just a tad.
Rebel: You ever get tired of bringing this shit up? I’m making a ton of money and building a better tomorrow for our little girl so that when the time comes and we pass on, we can leave her something more than just a few trinkets and an old house or something.
James: Yeah and what happens when she grows up without you because you’re always working all the time? Honey, she misses you all the time.
Mel sighs a bit, then spots a bit of trouble on her DMs.
Rebel: Fuck…. really?
James: What’s up?
Rebel: Might be needing a new GM for Fury Road or I may have to bump up Epoch to fill the slot and rearrange the schedule to accommodate for it. She’s thinking about checking out.
James nods his head a bit.
James: I see.
Rebel: I’ll handle that shit in the morning. Kinda’ not in a good headspace to handle that at the moment.
James: Uh, you gonna’ be able to juggle that and your shoot for Wrestlefest and that big cluster of a cage match you’re in?
Melinda tosses the phone up on the dash and leans back in the seat, propping her foot up on the glove box.
Rebel: I was going to spend time with Lana Monday morning after she got back from Carol’s, but now I gotta’ hit the office and then go drive up to the studio to do the shoot.
James: Or you could, ooooh, I don’t know, hire an assistant or two to help you out with this stuff. Southern Rebellion ain’t a tiny company anymore. It has alot of moving parts and if you’re going to pursue your dream of conquering the EWC ring, you’re going to have to do more than just handle your business on a phone.
The Rebel Star grumbles and mutters a couple curses.
James: You always gotta’ be in control, thinking that anyone’s going to think you’re less important if you delegate some authority. Hell woman, you’re still cutting the paychecks and making the big decisions. You don’t HAVE to be at the office every day you know.
A few more grumbles and curses are met with James reaching across and giving her shoulder a soft, but firm, reassuring squeeze. Mel looks over at him with a little sight and takes his hand, squeezing it back and then taking it into her own.
Rebel: We’ll figure it all out, I’m sure. Goddamn that’s a big ass cage match and with a title shot on the line to boot!
James: It’d be a hell of a win for your third match since returning and that’s some steeeeep competition.
Melinda smirks a bit, patting James’ hand.
Rebel: It wouldn’t be EWC if it wasn’t steep.
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