Yes you do.

Twenty minutes later you meet the third member of your band, a 5’5” rail thin girl with B cups that look rather huge on her extremely slender frame. She has a nearly shaved head with deep blue died stubble, sharp features, and about a dozen piercings in her face. She is wearing a studded leather vest over a black leather bra, shredded jeans over fishnet stockings, and combat boots. As you walk up to her she hands you an electric guitar and says, “Cute shirt, going soft on us?”

The third member of your little trio answers for you, “Sarah says she’s trying a new look. I say we drop her bitch ass, you can sing lead right Sam?”

Sam smiles and sticks her double pierced tongue at you, “Naah, I’ll stick to backup screeching for now. If you want to drop her cute little ass you will have to sing Becky.”

“Then I guess she stays.” Becky winks at you, “For now.”

“Ladies, you ready?” A tall thin man in a rather old suit asks.

“We’re on bitches.” Becky yells and you deftly dodge the incoming ass slap. Sam howls like a dog and the three of you hit the stage.

You play for an hour and are dripping with sweat when you are finished. You have no idea where you learned to sing, or the music, but it was exhilarating to preform, even if it was only a few hundred people. The thin man that led you on hands you each a hundred and two free drink tokens as you exit the stage.

“Gonna stay and get waisted with me Sarah?” Sam asks after packing up the instruments in her little red Mazda suv like vehicle.