Her hooves were pounding on the uneven Ponyvillie sidewalks as hard as she could push them. Her blue mane was even more messed up than usual, and if she wasn’t careful, her white coat was going to be completely unacceptable among the ponies who were undoubtedly in their finest condition. Luckily, there was still a chill in the air this time of evening that kept her from sweating too badly. Not that it mattered anyway. She would have gladly romped through all the swamps in the Everfree Forest if it meant she could make it to the Concert Hall faster.
Oh, I am such an idiot! Octy has come to, like, most of my shows, and I can’t make it to One of her’s? I am an Idiot! Idiot, Idiot, Idiot!
As each of Vinyl Scratch’s hooves thundered she repeated the only name for herself that would come to mind. Great Celestia, if their place wasn’t on the way to the stupid concert she probably wouldn’t have even remembered that these things needed tickets to get in to. She had snatched it off the counter and swarmed out the back door, not daring to break her stride to even go back out the front. It was now tucked safely next to her phone in her saddle bag, which Neon Lights had to throw her from an open window or she’d have forgotten that, too.
A pain was beginning to form in her side, but she still laughed deliriously and breathlessly as she saw the Concert Hall lit up on the horizon. There! She was gonna make it after all. A spared glance at the First Equestrian Bank’s clock told her that she would be about five minutes late but, hey, better late than never, right?
Oh man, I hope this works. She can’t stay mad about me missing her gig if I don’t miss it, right? I’ll make sure she knows I’m out there if I have to throw my shades on the stage. Aw, I hope they don’t break if I do…
Sad thoughts of replacing her trusty sunglasses mixed with relieved ones of fixing the damage done to her friendship as she slowed to a stop in front of the ticket counter outside the venue. She allowed herself to begin catching her breath while a concerned mare in an official Concert Hall vest looked on in mild concern.
“Uhm…you ok there, young filly?” she asked, craning to see as much of the tired pony before her as she could. “I can get you some water if you want,” she added helpfully.
Still heaving for as much air as her strained lungs could hold, Vinyl swallowed a few times and coughed, wordlessly levitating her ticket on to the counter for the mare to see. She looked over the top of her glasses, begging the mare with her eyes to just take it so she could go in.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, then laughed a little nervously. She tore the ticket and gave the DJ her half, saying, “You’re a tad bit late, but I suppose it’ll work out.”
Vinyl didn’t bother to ponder over that last sentence, instead choosing to breathe a few controlled breaths and levitating the torn ticket back into her bag. As she regained her composure, she gave the mare a mock salute and trotted through the doors happily.
A large, dark brown pegasus stallion with a grey and silver mane stood poised before the auditorium doors with one ear cocked to better take in the sounds coming from behind him. He had a little smile on his face as he listened, clearly enjoying himself as he worked. Tipping his head, he politely said, “Good evening, miss.”
The white mare jerked her chin up in return, enthusiastically calling, “ ‘Sup?” as she made to go past him. Suddenly, a brown wing popped in front of her face with an audible snap! and she had to scramble backwards to keep from running into it. Frowning deeply now, she yelped, “Hey, dude, what gives?! I gave the mare out front my ticket!”
“Yes, ma’am, I saw that. But, unfortunately, you’re late. No pony is to enter the show after it has started, at least until the Interval. After that, you’re golden,” the stallion explained while folding his wing back in. Good naturedly, he threw in, “But feel free to stay out here with me until then. You can still hear it, even if you can’t see it.”
Smiling confidently, Vinyl said, “Ooohhh. Well, ok, that’s cool and all, but see, my friend is the one playing so I’m sure she won’t mind if I just…” She tried to go forward again, but the stallion ducked in her way.
“Whoop,” he said to halt her, then chuckled a little in exasperation, “The problem is, this is the Concert Hall’s rule, not mine or your friend’s. I still can’t let you in. You may wait out here with me.”
“Hey, dude, just this once, I promise. I won’t tell anypony. I just gotta get in there, you don’t get it, man,” she said indignantly, tones of panic starting to creep into her voice. She tried to go forward again, but this time he put a hoof in front of her chest.
Patience clearly waning as the attitude of the conversation started to shift, the pegasus amended, “No, you don’t get it. I am not allowed to let any pony in. And, unless you are my boss or one of the Princesses, which you don’t look like you are, I could lose this job, and frankly, I like it too much to let a pony with time management issues ruin it for me. Now, ma’am, you can wait right here and I will be happy to let you in soon enough.” The stallion planted his hoof and frowned as if it were the final word on the matter.
Cold fear and rage at being so close, and yet so far away from reclaiming her best friend settled in her chest, and she yelled, “Hey! C’mon, I told you my friend is playing right now, so let me in!” Once more, she tried to get past and this time a wing and a hoof impeded her progress.
He rolled his eyes. What was wrong with young fillies and colts these days? His brow furrowed and he lowered his head to get closer to her level. All but groaning, he growled, “I’ve said this to you already; I can’t let you in! I can let you in during the Interval.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, though it was less affective from behind her glasses. “I don’t wanna go in at the Interval, I wanna go in now! I Need to be in there right now! I-I-I gotta see her!” she whined in frustration, even going so far as to back up and stomp her hoof like a little filly.
The guard took the DJ’s back track as a good sign and straightened, resolutely saying, “Sorry. I can’t allow it.” Maybe now this crazy pony would just sit quietly and he could enjoy the rest of this portion of the show in peace.
Vinyl Scratch bowed her head so he could see the anger and determination in her red gaze and bared her teeth at him. “Alright, Fine! You wanna do this the hard way? We can do this the Hard Way!” she roared, right before charging at his side, intending to knock him off balance enough to give her time to get through the door.
“Oh, no you don’t!” He rumbled back. Through the side of her vision, she saw him lift off and for an elated second she thought he had given up. Then, she felt well muscled forelegs wrap around her middle and pull her up short.
“No!” she grunted as she struggled for freedom, bucking and kicking for all she was worth. “Get off of me! I need to see her!” she shrieked. This muscled-headed fool was going to cost her something she held very dear, and the thought of it empowered and incensed her. With a mighty heave and a lucky punch, she felt the guard’s forelegs loosen a bit and she just managed to surge forward enough to touch the door.
But before she could grab it or shove it open, she felt the stallion’s grip return with renewed determination and she was jerked back.
“OCTAVIA!” she screamed, but the door only wiggled a little in return.
________________________________________________________________________
On the stage, the cellist was doing all in her power to reign in her hurt, anger, and sadness in order to give a concert worth seeing. The approving faces in the crowd told her she was managing, but the feeling in her heart said ‘only just’. She was mostly focused on her playing, but little strays of thought kept drifting through her mind. She believed if she hadn’t practiced every song religiously she probably would have been making a ton of mistakes, which only added to her fury.
One bloody concert, Vinyl! Is that really so much to ask of the pony who’s Supposed to be my best friend?!
As she finished her second piece for the evening and the last note began to fade out, her ear twitched and she would have sworn…but the assembly roared its appreciation and Octavia gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head at such a silly notion. That was the sort of thing that happened only in pictures, and she refused to entertain the idea in real life. She took a steadying but short breath as she bowed to the audience. Then, she righted herself and gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes before turning attention to her music and the third piece she was to play.
One more, Octavia, old girl. Then, you may have a few minutes to strengthen your composure alone. You can do this.
And, the grey mare played, trying hard not to dwell on the concept of ‘alone’.
________________________________________________________________________
Ok, so punching this stallion was a bad idea. Add it to the night’s list…Vinyl thought as he yanked her into the air only to slam her down on her stomach and chest on the sidewalk outside. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that her shades were still on and undamaged, so at least there was that. She still fought him, but only half-heartedly now, making it easy for him to hold her forelegs behind her back.
Grumbling with the effort of keeping his captive, the stallion called out, “Front Row? Front Row! Call the chief and tell him to send a carriage!”
Vinyl heard a muffled ‘oh dear’ that she recognized as the pony who took her ticket. She was struggling to get her back hooves under her (to no avail thanks to his knee planted in her lower back) when she felt the cuffs close around the low thin part on her forelegs. That instantly froze her, mind and body.
Wait…why does a Concert Hall security guard need hoof-cuffs, unless…oh, manure.
Sure enough, when he righted her she saw two shiny things: his glistening police badge clutched under an outstretched wing and his brand new, Vinyl-made black eye.
An irritable smirk met her shocked face and the Police Stallion said, “Uh-huh. That’s right, missy. You just assaulted a police officer. That earns you ticket to PPD Headquarters and a lovely silver cell, compliments of the gentlecolt before you.”
The DJ groaned and hung her head, it was about the only thing she could do.
The brown stallion gave a satisfied nod, then trotted around to search her bag. “I am going to look through this anyway, but you might as well tell me now if there is something in here you ought not have,” He told her, opening the bag, but pausing to give her a chance to answer. When she shook her head no, he nodded again and said, “Good. Now, you have the right to remain silent…”
She stopped listening as he rumbled on about what she could and couldn’t do or have. A new plan had started to form in her head, and she quickly concentrated and cast a concealment spell on her phone, then levitated it out and in to her cuffed hooves. She smiled on the side of her face he couldn’t see. The concealment spell wasn’t that difficult for her; she had mastered it in her underage years of being a party pony and though it had been a few years, it came to her like the old, trusty bud it was.
The officer finished looking through her bag, then came back to look at her. “I am going to confiscate your belongings for now, but they will be returned to you upon leaving the police department,” he told her. He looked for a minute and added, “Speaking of confiscating belongings…” reaching for her glasses.
She leaned away from his hoof, pleading, “Not my shades, dude!” Then, as an afterthought, said, “Please?”
The stallion rolled his eyes and sighed. He thought for a bit, then looking at her hard he asked, “Will you promise not to fight with me any more if I let you keep the sunglasses?”
“Yeah, man. I’ll take that deal,” she answered with enthusiasm. She had no real reason to fight anyway. There would be no getting to the door now, but it was ok. She had her backup plan and she’d stick to that for now.
In mock surprise the officer said, “Well, look here everypony! She can make a reasonable decision.” Seeing her scowl at him, he dropped it and said, “Just let me check them over for security reasons, and I’ll put them right back.”
She grumbled, “Fine, just don’t scratch them,” and the pegusus did as he told her he would. They felt a little odd on her face after he put them back, but she tossed her head a tad and they settled back where they should be.
About this time, both captor and captive heard a carriage approaching, and they turned to see it round the corner and park in front of them. It was being pulled by a young, light orange earth pony. He slipped out from behind the bar used to haul it saying, “Here you go, sir. Can’t believe somepony-“. He started laughing loudly as he caught sight of his comrade's black eye.
The older officer scowled and barked, “Shut up, Trooper! So help me, I’ll have the chief put you on desk work for a month.”
This sobered Trooper up considerably, but he still couldn’t help the snickers that leaked out on their own. “S-sorry,” he told the pegasus. A mischievous glint entered his eye and he continued, “You want me to take the big, scary filly back for you?”
The brown stallion stared him down until he gulped nervously. Finally, he said, “No, thank you. I’m taking her myself. I might as well, since I’m gonna have to fill out a report on this anyway.” He sighed and cast a longing eye at the Concert Hall, “You best take my place on guard.”
“Sweet!” the orange colt elated. “I’ve always wanted to hear her play in concert,” he told his senior officer before bounding away through the door into the lobby.
Vinyl huffed. Apparently, she was the only pony for miles that didn’t know what a treat hearing Octavia play was. Mentally kicking herself, she thought, Of course you don’t, stupid. You’ve never bothered to show up. Oh, sure, she had heard her practice, but if it was anything like when she was playing a gig versus laying down beats at home, she realized she had never really heard her play.
The stallion helped her to her back hooves and in to the police carriage and she started feeling even more miserable. Never a pony to be down for long though, her feelings were replaced with determination and as soon as it looked like her driver was absorbed in pulling, she levitated her phone to her shoulder and trapped it there with her cheek. She cast a nervous glance at the police stallion, but it looked like he didn’t suspect anything. With a little smile, she used her magic to direct her phone to call Octavia.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
The grey earth pony was sitting on a stool in front of a vanity in her dressing room with her hooves on the side of head, which was bowed and her eyes closed. She was concentrating on the next three compositions she would be playing, doing her best to drive thoughts of Vinyl away.
But, she said she was so-
Her expression turned angry. And what if she did? She Always said she was sorry, that she’d catch the next one. She never did, though! ‘Sorry’ meant next to nothing to that pony. It was just an empty word used to placate an upset roommate, she reasoned.
…But maybe this time, she really did mean it? Maybe the threat to their friendship had been enough to jar her?
Riiing!
Her phone was on the table in front of her, and she opened her eyes to see the screen even as she wondered at getting a call right now anyway.
Vinyl Calling…
In a very brief moment of weakness, she almost tapped the answer button. Then a dark thought whispered, Why? So she can say ‘sorry’?
Rii-
She angrily slammed the ‘ignore’ button before the phone could even finish its second attempt to alert her. How like her to somehow know exactly when best to call. Typical Vinyl Scratch.
She turned the offending device off, then trotted back towards the stage with a well-strengthened resolve.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
“She shady buttoned me!” the white mare yelped in hurt and surprise, dropping her shoulders and loosing her phone to the floor of the carriage, where the spell on it dispersed.
Her transport skidded to a halt, and she heard the police stallion yell, “Are you kidding me?” Next thing she knew, he was hovering outside the open carriage door. He scanned the floor and spotted her cell, snatching it up and waving it at her in frustration. “A phone? Really?!” he raged. He didn’t stick around to see what she had to say for herself, just slammed the door and floated back to the front of the vehicle grumbling furiously. When they started moving again, it was at a faster pace than before.
Not that Vinyl noticed, though. Shock and despair had done well to numb her for the moment. No matter what arguments they had had or how angry they were at each other, they had always, always answered when the other called. That simple thought just kept circling through her head.
It was still buzzing around as they reached the police department and the officer jerked her roughly out of the carriage and shoved her through the doors. The only time she managed to rouse herself from her numbness was when the police mare taking her picture tried to get her to remove her sunglasses.
“You want a picture of what I usually look like, right?” she challenged, still not engaging all the way.
The mare behind the camera replied in a bored tone, “That’s the general idea, ma’am.”
The DJ nodded and said dully, “Then take the picture.” To which the mare shrugged and started the mugshot process.
Finally, she found herself sitting on the bunk in her holding cell, and allowed her thoughts to process beyond their initial shock. If Octavia was mad enough at her to refuse her call…maybe they really weren’t friends anymore.
Suddenly, Vinyl felt her stomach roll and she pushed her glasses up to stare blankly at the floor before her. Sure she had other friends, a ton of ponies she called friends. But only one was her Best friend. Was her best friend.
That final reflection coupled with the utter disparity of being stuck in prison with no pony to call for help if they even offered it to her, and the rubies that were her eyes were lost behind an ocean of tears. Vinyl Scratch sobbed in her cell, feeling for the first time in her life what it was like to be alone.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Octavia was forcing herself to smile as she milled around with the Concert Hall Director and some of her staff. She had given a good show after all, and everypony seemed to be quiet pleased with her. And more importantly, no pony had caught on to her sour mood. She came back to the conversation before her just as one of them finished a joke, and she gave a little fake chuckle to convince them she was paying attention.
“Oh,” said the director, turning to the cellist, “I almost forgot to tell you, Octavia, my dear. They were positively beating down the door to get in to see you tonight. Quite literally, I’m afraid! Somepony arrived late, and had to be escorted away.”
Octavia actually did find that rather amusing, and she giggled. “What poor dolt of a pony would not just wait for the Interval?” she asked, causing those around her to laugh a little at the obviousness of it. After they had finished, she excused herself, claiming the lateness of the hour, and they bid her good evening as she left them.
Before she was completely out of ear shot, she heard one of their number say derisively, “As if that DJ she lives with is going to let her to bed at a decent hour,” causing them to laugh again.
Octavia nearly turned around to defend the unicorn. Did she keep insane hours? Well, yes, but did that not come with the territory? What they did not understand was that Vinyl was also quite considerate of her more classically trained friend, and she used her head phones after it got to be what most ponies considered ‘late’.
But, she reminded herself that it was no longer her duty to answer a challenge to her roommate’s character, and she stoically proceeded out the door.
The earth pony took a moment to get a big breath of the fresh night air, then turned to look in the direction of her house and frowned. Even though her ex-friend would probably not be in for some time, she didn’t care for the thought of going home, yet. She shifted her weight a little while she considered other alternatives. Eventually, she smiled and trotted in the opposite direction, making for one of her favorite café’s that stayed open a bit later than most.
Pushing through the door, Octavia smiled a little when Java Bean, a yellow unicorn and the owner and operator waved to her before seeing to another customer. Though it was getting late, the little café was harboring a moderate amount of ponies still. She took her favorite seat at the bar, pleased it was open, and waited.
Soon enough, Java Bean popped over and asked, “The usual, then?” She levitated a tea cup over to hold it before use.
The mare shook her head and replied, “No, thank you. I feel like having a coffee tonight, I think.”
Whistling low, the unicorn put down the tea cup and reached for a coffee mug. “The hard stuff tonight, huh? You wanna talk about it?” she asked comfortingly.
Octavia thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No, but I appreciate your concern,” she replied.
Java Bean nodded her understanding and said, “Alright then. I’ll set you up with something I think you’ll like. Just ordering a ‘coffee’ here is pretty vague.” The barista chuckled and set about her task. Before long, she placed a hot mug before her customer and told her to ‘enjoy’.
Trusting the other mare’s knowledge of the wide world of coffee, she picked her mug up for a taste. Her ears flicked forward in delight as a cinnamon and milk taste danced across her taste buds with the coffee. The words ‘cinnamon bun in a mug’ came to mind, and she called out a thank you to the creator of such a masterpiece, who received it with a grin.
During one draught of the delightful concoction (which was already mostly empty and causing her to wonder at getting another), she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“I enjoyed your concert tonight, Ms. Octavia. Well, what I heard of it anyway,” a familiar stallion’s voice said as she lowered her mug and turned to smile at him.
“Thank yo-“ she started to say, but lost it to a gasp. “Why, Officer Wesson, what in Equestria happened to your eye?”
His brow furrowed and he floated up to the seat next to her with his good eye where she could see it instead of his bad one. “Oh, some crazy pony decided to throw down with me in the lobby. Had to take ‘em down to the station for booking and missed most of the show,” he explained grumpily.
She nodded. “Yes, I heard about that,” she replied sympathetically, then curiosity got her and she added, “Any pony we know?”
“I didn’t know her, but she claimed to be a friend of your’s. Almost threw her out at that for lying to a police officer. She sure didn’t look like your normal crowd,” he said with a little laugh.
Octavia’s breath caught for a moment. Her mouth had gone dry, and she had to lick her lips before saying, “U-uhm, what did she look like, pray tell?” She took a final drink of her coffee to try and appear nonchalant.
Her voice gave her away however, and Wesson swiveled his head to look at her, not caring about his other eye. “A white unicorn with purple sunglasses on, at night for what ever reason, and a crazy blue mane. Looked like she had run most of the way to the Concert Hall. You really do know her?” he wondered incredulously.
She nearly choked on her coffee, but managed to get it down. “Oh dear,” she finally said, fighting embarrassment and happiness colored with shock and disbelief, “I’m afraid I do, Officer Wesson. That’s my roommate, Vinyl Scratch. I must apologize on her behalf, as I may have driven her to that in some small way.” She hopped down from her seat and placed some money on the table, calling, “Java Bean? Bits are on the table. I’m buying Officer Wesson’s next round, and keep the change, if there is any. If not, I’ll take care of it next time.” (Java Bean would later mark that as one of her best tips ever, and suggest that particular latte to everypony who asked her recommendation.) It took years of control and class to keep the cellist from flying out the door, though she did walk more briskly than was really marelike. She saved the cantering for outside.
She was glad she had gone to the café instead of home, since that put her closer to the Ponyvillie Police Department, though she was not entirely sure what she would do when she got there.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Vinyl Scratch had run out of tears some time ago, and now just sat staring unseeing at the floor with her hooves buried in her mane so no pony could see her face. Her breathing was shallow as most of her energy was spent and she didn’t make a sound.
That was how Octavia found her, and while one part of her heart broke for the sad unicorn she knew, the other part reminded her she had brought this on herself and whispered of all the pain she had caused her. She stood looking at her for some time.
“It looks as if somepony did not know the Concert Hall hired the local police,” a familiar, accented voice drifted in to the DJ’s ears, which flickered as sound reached them for the first time in a while. She raised her head from between her hooves and saw the cellist on the other side of the bars.
“Octavia?” she asked, her voice rusty from crying and disuse. She hopped down from the bunk and walked forward, the feel of her hooves on the stone floor reassuring her that she wasn’t dreaming. She gave the tiniest smile as she reached the bars and attempted to touch her roommate’s shoulder through them. The smile fell as the other pony stepped away from her hoof.
The grey mare looked at her for a moment, noting the scuffs of dirt on her chest and hind legs and her bloodshot eyes that spoke of tears or stress or both, then continued more than a little harshly, “Of course, they might have known if they had ever shown their face there before.”
Vinyl sat down hard, her head dipping low, as if the whole world was on her shoulders. She sighed sadly, and sniffled a little, saying, “I know. You’re right. I really suck. You show up to, like, all of my gigs, even though it’s totally not your scene. I should have been there tonight, and every night before when you got me a seat. But, I wasn’t. I got caught up in my own stuff, and forgot that your’s was just as important. I’m sorry. I’ll move when I get out of here. You can take the place.”
Octavia couldn’t take it any more. She took the few steps it would take to bring her as close to the cell as she could, then sat and extended a hoof to rest on the inmate’s back, causing her to look up with hope, fear, and regret. Feeling a few tears of her own pricking at her eyes, she replied, “Vinyl, you tried harder than any pony I have ever known to get in to my concert tonight.” She gave a little cough of a laugh and added, “I’ve never had a fan so dedicated as to assault a police officer to try to get in.” She looked at her one more time, and a slow smile began to spread across her face, “If you promise to make my next one, on time might I add…I suppose we can still be friends after all.”
“R-really?” the unicorn asked hopefully. When Octavia nodded, she bust into laughter and pulled them into a hug, crushing both into the bars, but not caring at all. “I swear to Celestia, I will be there. Front row, if I can! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Octy!” she blabbered.
Octavia giggled a little, struggling against her friend’s grip. “Oh. Ugh. Ok, Vinyl, this sort of- ow, Vinyl!” she complained, but good-naturedly, sharing her enthusiasm. Eventually, she let go, and the cellist was able to step back and call down the row of cells, “Alright, Gentlecolts, I do believe she’s learned her lesson. You can open the door now.”
A buzz sounded, and the door rolled open, allowing the DJ to step back into freedom and friendship. She trotted forward and pulled Octavia into another hug, much gentler but just as tight. “Seriously, thank you. I won’t let you down, Octy, I promise. And, I really mean it this time,” she said over the other mare’s shoulder.
The earth pony gently pushed them apart, smiling at her friend and saying, “I believe you.” Noticing the glasses still perched on top of her friend’s head, she nudged them down into place, and the two shared a smile. Then, she turned to lead the way out of the police department and added playfully, “And, you had better, because I don’t intend to make bailing you out of jail a regular thing.”
Vinyl Scratch snickered and almost bounced beside her friend, “No way, dude! Punching police stallions has a bad side-effect.” She heard Octy give a little snort, and she laughed, causing her friend to laugh in turn.
As they exited the building, Octavia said, “Tomorrow, I would like to take you to that café I like so well. They have a coffee there that is simply to die for. That is, if your stint in prison hasn’t hardened you to the finer things in life.” She grinned slyly.
“Oh, ha ha,” Vinyl rolled her eyes. Then almost stopped short in incredulity. “Wait a minute! Did you just say you had coffee?” she asked, flabbergasted. Now it was her turn to grin and she bumped her friend’s shoulder, “You were shook up too, weren’t cha? Go on, admit it.”
The cellist lifted one eye brow, and said sincerely, “Of course I was. As different as we are, you are my best friend, Vinyl. Why do you think it took so long for me to go to the extreme of ending that?”
Her friend’s words sobered her, and she replied, “You’re mine, too. I’m gonna be a better best friend from now on. You’ll see,” earning a smile from the grey musician at her side.
“I will be holding you to that, ‘DJ Pon3’,” Octavia said warmly.
The two best friends made their way home, talking and laughing quietly.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
At Octavia’s next concert, she gave Vinyl another call to remind her of the evening.
“Hey, Octy! What’s up?” the DJ chirped happily.
“Hello, Vinyl. I was just calling to remind you about my concert today. It starts in a little while,” the cellist said, carefully straightening her pink bow tie in the vanity’s mirror.
Vinyl Scratch chuckled, and replied, “Homefilly, I’ve been in the lobby for, like, an hour already.”
A large grin broke across the performer’s face. In the time since that fateful night, her friend really had put more of herself into being a better friend. The call had been mostly out of habit than actual concern. Still, it was nice to see she had meant this last part of her promise.
“Uhm,” her friend continued in a lower voice, “that cop is out here, too. He keeps giving me dirty looks.”
Octavia gave a little bark of a laugh and reasoned, “Well, Vinyl, you did black his eye last time you met. Just don’t give him any trouble, and Officer Wesson will come around eventually.”
“Yeah, ok,” the voice on the other end of the line answered. “Oh, hey, the doors are opening, gotta go! See you soon!” and the phone clicked off.
A short time later, Octavia walked out on the stage, and a polite applause greeted her as she took up her instrument. Then, she heard, “Awwwww, yeeeeaaaahhh! There she is!” and a rather loud whistle of a cheer.
She put her hoof over her mouth to keep from laughing as she spotted Vinyl in the front row, surrounded by ponies who were scowling at her with intense disapproval that went completely unnoticed. She gave her a little wave and shushed her with her bow, still smiling.
Vinyl Scratch grinned, and elbowed the poor stallion on her right, saying proudly, “That’s my best buddy up there.”
The stallion rolled his eyes, and the DJ just shrugged it off and settled in to watch her friend perform.