7) Tank!
A/N: No, I'm not dead. Don't any of you read my blog?
The club has already begun to fill by the time you get there, a steady mass of ponies streaming past you into the Pure and Petite. You are genuinely surprised by the sheer amount of ponies that have already begun to cram their way into the bar. You walk up to the owner, Fresh Pints, who is nearly aglow with happiness.
“Hey man.” you comment. “What’s with the crowd?”
Pints turns to you, his infectious smile spreading to you easily. “Isn’t it great? We got a big advertising bump in the past few days. Lately, I barely have enough alcohol to go around!”
You shake his hoof. “Well, congrats. Glad to see the place is doing so well. I do have one thing to ask though.”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
You put on a sheepish smile. “Do you mind if I save a table? My marefr- my friend is coming tonight, and I have a feeling she might bring friends.”
He waves his hoof dismissively. “Ah, shoot, that’s no problem at all! Hey!” he caught the attention of a nearby bouncer. “Rope off the table closest to the stage. I’m reserving it for some friends.”
The bouncer nods, grabbing a red, velvet-like rope from out of nowhere. He moves into the crowd, wading through the wall of ponies in the direction of the stage.
You silently exhale in relief. “Thanks Pints, I really appreciate it. I don’t want them coming all this way just to see me, then get here and not be able to see me.”
He nods. “I gotcha, no problem at all. Now,” he changes the subject, “go warm up. I need those pipes in top shape for tonight!”
"I hear ya. Thanks again!” you say as you make your way to the stage. You settle down in a small prep room behind the stage, rustling your music nervously as you wait for your cue to go on. Your hoof subconsciously taps on the floor, the only indication of your immense nervousness. The room itself is dank and rather cramped, affording its occupants neither comfort nor space.
A bouncer pops his head into the prep room, making you jump slightly. “You’re up, buddy.” That is all he musters before turning and exiting, leaving you to make your way up to the stage alone.
As you get up to the main stage, the conversation dies down slightly. A myriad of ponies mull around the bar. Some are seated at booths or tables in the corner talking among themselves, but a hefty majority are standing in or around the dance floor, eagerly awaiting the music to start. You grab a mike, tap it a few times, and then put it to your lips. “Hey there, everypony!” Upon seeing you take the stage, the crowd bursts into ravenous applause “Are y’all ready to dance?!.”
The lights flash on, flooding the bar with a rainbow of neon colors. You fight to make yourself heard over the uproar of the crowd, throwing out a massive saxophone lick to start the show. All at once, background music kicks in, stage lights pulsate to the beat, and the dance floor lights up. The floor is immediately crowded with ponies of all shapes and sizes, moving to the beat as you continue to pump licks into the music as you see fit. The club is electric, the mob of ponies on the dance floor shaking the building to its very foundation.
Sharp, staccato trumpet blasts intermingle with a fast-paced conga line to keep the song steady. The rhythm is contagious, and soon you can’t help but notice yourself start to sway and bob to the beat. Soon enough, you move into a saxophone solo. Instead of just running through some improvised licks, you decide to one-up yourself.
You hop up onto a nearby stage amp and go to town, high notes blasting from your horn at breakneck speeds. You don’t know what has come over you, but quite frankly, you don’t care: the crowd is going nuts, and you don’t want to be the one that kills the party.
A burst of applause follows as you hold a high note for what seems like eternity. The background music fades, leaving you holding the impossibly high note. As you feel your breath begin to leave you, you jump down from the amp in a massive crescendo of sound and lights that threaten to bring the entire bar down.
The music fades. You stare in silence for a moment at the crowd in front of you. Not a single pony moves, the crowd simply staring at you with dumbfounded expressions and eyes as big as dinner plates. “Woah,” you stammer. “I… I don’t know what came over me th-“
The crowd bursts into uproarious applause, a sweeping wave of shouts and whistles cascading onto you with the force of a tsunami. The sheer exuberance of the audience makes you stagger. You begin to feel lightheaded. “Uh, excuse me for a second.” is all you stammer before you stumble off stage and into the prep room.
You lean against the wall and take several deep breaths. What was that? I’ve never acted that… crazy before. What the hay was I thinking?
Somepony enters the prep room. You turn around, only to be assaulted by a pink blur of color. Your mind flashes back to the alley and you begin to kick and squirm, desperately trying to get out from under your attacker’s surprisingly strong grasp. You squeeze your eyes shut, awaiting the furious fall of hooves.
“OmaigoshyouwereAWESOME! How’dyoudothatsoloitwassoCOOL!”
The voice was female, and very preppy at that. “What… what the hay?” you mumble to yourself as you unclench your eyes. A fuzzy ball of pink comes into your field of vision. Her eyes, almost as blue as Rarity’s, seem to bore right through your head and out the other side.
“Pinkie, let him go. I think you startled him.” Rarity’s voice cuts through the crowd’s still present din. You sigh in relief upon hearing a familiar voice as the pink pony on top of you relents her barrage of questions and helps you up.
As you are brought back to your feet, you see three ponies enter the prep room. This only causes the room to become more cramped. At the head of the group, you spot Rarity. Her hair is done up in a complex yet subtle bun design. The other ponies, an orange earth pony sporting a hat, and the pink mare that attacked you, don’t appear to be dressed up at all. It’s a miracle that they were let through the door at all in their current states.
“Oh… Um-Hi Rarity. Listen, I’m sorry about the way I acted on stage. I just don’t know what got into me…”
Rarity rolls her eyes before turning to one of her compatriots. “He can be a little TOO modest sometimes.” You hear her mumble. She then refocuses on you. “Dearie, that was astounding! Why on earth would you be apologizing? That was by far the most incredible act of musical prowess I’ve ever seen! We had to fight through a throng of ponies pining for your autograph just to get in here!”
You blink in surprise. You had assumed that Rarity would find something to uncouth to be downright perturbing. You thought she would be embarrassed just to be seen around you. For her to unashamedly tell you that she loved it is the best complement she could have possibly paid to you.
“Wow… thanks!” you light up, the smile on your face rivaling that of the pink pony that knocked you down earlier. “So,” you say, redirecting the conversation, “Can I assume that you are Miss Rarity’s friends?”
The throng nodded. “Yes, I just thought I’d invite a few close friends,” said Rarity. “If that’s okay with you, I mean.” Her face turned deep red, and she put her hooves to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited them, I’m sorry!”
You laugh. “Are you kidding? I don’t mind in the least. Any friend of Rarity’s is a friend of mine. And besides,” you gesture broadly into the throngs of ponies outside the prep room, “I doubt a couple ponies could make a real dent in this crowd.” You all share a laugh, but are dwarfed by the sound of the crowd as they begin to chant “Encore! Encore!”
“Well,” you stammer, picking up your saxophone, “the crowd calls. I managed to reserve a table for you at the far end of the bar, if you’re willing to fight through the crowd to get there.”
“Oh, thank you dearie! That’s simply wonderful!” she embraces you quickly before leaving, inciting a massive blush on her face. You feel heat creep up onto your face as you realize you are undoubtedly doing the same.
You take a deep breath and collect your thoughts as you step back onto the stage. Your presence is met with wild cheers from the crowd, which has now grown beyond the safe limit of the bar. The bouncers are desperately trying to restore order, but failing miserably as more and more ponies move to the dance floor.
You make your way to the microphone, magically lifting it to your mouth. "Hey, everypony!" the ebb of the crowd dulls slightly as the collective eyes of the bar rest upon you. "Now how about we slow things down a bit? This is for the ponies feeling lonely tonight."
Without waiting for a response, you launch yourself into another tune. Softer than your previous tune, you tease out a soft and sweet melody, filled with simple but catchy chords that sooth the crowd almost instantaneously. Your audience begins to loosen up to the groove, swaying gently to the rhythm as the song progresses. Several ponies even venture to dance with their loved ones. You feel a tiny pang of jealousy knowing that you can't dance with Rarity, but hope to make up for it later tonight.
As the song ends, the crowd applauds, this time sounding much more tasteful and subdued than before. As you step away from the microphone, a nervous looking stallion approaches the stage.
"Hey... Hey, do you know any tunes by Jr. Trotter?"
You snort dismissively. "Do I? You got anything in particular in mind?"
The stallion shrugs. "Not really, I like all his stuff pretty equally."
Clearly, this pony has astute musical taste. "Good man!" you say. "I'll get right on that."
His face lights up, though he appears no less nervous. "Cool! Thanks, bro." With that, he turns and skitters away.
You decide on a tune, then step up to the microphone. "This one's for the nervous chap over there." you say as you point to the stallion in question, causing his face to burst into a formidable blush. "One, two, three, four!"
-----
The crowd has all but disappeared from the Pure and Petite. It is well after two in the morning. The only ponies that are left in the bar are Rarity, her friends, and several heavily inebreated stallions who are being not-so-gently escorted out by one of the bouncers. You consider playing one more song, but seeing as your audience is rapidly becoming nonexistent, you decide to pack it up for the night.
"Hey man." Fresh Pints walks over to you, an exhausted look in his eyes. There are several deep rings under his eyes, and his voice sounds tired and deflated. "Thanks for helping to keep that crowd under control. We were pretty close to having to shut the bar down."
"Such is the power of music." you mutter sarcastically. You both laugh as he hands you a well-sized bag of bits. "Hey, you wanna chat for a while?"
"Sorry," Pints replies. "I have to help clean up. This place is a mess!"
You nod understandingly. "That's okay. I should at least try to get some sleep tonight."
As Pints walks away, you deposit the bag of bits into your case and begin disassembling your saxophone, using care to put each individual component into its proper place.
"Hello." the voice behind you is accompanied by a set of hooves entwining themselves around your neck. You panic, dropping the pieces of your instrument to the floor where they land with a dull clatter.
"Oh, my! I'm sorry!" you recognize the voice as that of Rarity. You turn to see her with an apologetic look on her face. "I didn't mean to startle you! I'm sorry!"
You chuckle. She looks very cute when she's worried. "It's okay, I'm the one that panicked." you magically lift the pieces of the saxophone back into the case. "So, where are your friends? Did they leave?"
"Oh, no. They just went to powder their noses."
You stare back in mock confusion. "Well, it doesn't seem to me that they would be the type to worry about appearances."
Rarity snorts derisively. "Oh, you have no idea." a smile breaks onto your face, and you lean in to peck her on the cheek. A bright blush forms on both your faces as-
"Just what the hay are you doin'?" you panic again at the voice, attempting to run away but instead stumbling over your own hooves, flailing about pathetically as you land with a thud. You attempt to get up, but a surprisingly strong orange hoof is placed on your chest, rendering you immobile. "Did I just see what ah thought I saw?" the voice has a distinctly country accent. "How dare you make a move on mah friend like that? Ah knew there were scumballs like y'all in this world, but I had hoped there wouldn't be one in Ponyville!"
You struggle under the weight of the hoof. "So, you're one of Rarity's friends," you shoot a pained expression at Rarity. "Rarity, didn't you tell them?"
She gives you a sheepish smile. "I... may have neglected to mention it."
The hoof relents slightly, allowing you to get a view of your attacker: An orange earth pony with a rather large hat and a trio of apples as her cutie mark. You recognize her as one of the ponies who came into the prep room with Rarity earlier. "What... what are y'all talkin' bout?"
Rarity finally steps in and coaxes the pony off of you. You let out a sputter before dragging yourself to your hooves. "Applejack, dearie, this is my coltfriend. We met a week back at this very place."
An excited voice pipes up from somewhere beyond your field of vision. "A coltfriend for Rarity? This calls for a party!"
The orange earth pony's face turns to one of shame and embarrasment. "So...that's yer coltfriend... and ah just-"
"Stepped on him, yes." finished Rarity.
"Oh... he he. Sorry partner." She extends a sheepish glance to you.
You begin to speak, but are cut off by the rest of Rarity's friends squealing in delight. "Oh, Rarity I'm so glad that you found a nice stallion!" the mares form a barrier between you and Rarity as they her as they berate her with questions about your relationship.
Unable to penetrate the wall of mares as they congratulate Rarity, you sigh and return to putting away your saxophone. As the mares finish their congratulations, they begin to leave, one after the other, until only you and Rarity are left.
"Well," you say, rubbing the sore spot on your chest where Rarity's friend had pinned you down, "your friends are very... interesting."
She laughs, as she replies, "You have no idea." she walks over to you and rests her head against your shoulder. "You really were wonderful tonight. Thank you."
At the mention of your performance, your face turns bright red. "Thank you. I thought that you would find my performance rather... uncouth, what with all the jumping around stage and whatnot."
"Well, it wasn't the most graceful thing ever, I'll admit that. However, it was very fun to watch, and the way you controlled that crowd was masterful. I honestly thought they were going to riot until you calmed them all down."
Your blush intensifies at the string of complements. "Shoot, you flatter me." is all you can think to reply.
Before you know it, your lips are meeting hers in a passionate display of affection. Just as quick as the kiss happened, it ends as Rarity pulls away, her eyes half closed in a seductive pose. "Would you care to stay at my place for the night? I just got a new bottle of champagne, and I don't know of a better person to share it with than you."
You smile gently as you peck Rarity on the cheek. "I would love to." She leans against you tenderly as you exit the bar and begin the trek back to the boutique, the late night stars enveloping you in a soft blanket of light.
P.S. Beaucoup thanks to Swiperthefox for suggesting the music that inspired the chapter as well as proofreading it for me. Go check his stuff out, I'm sure you'll love it. Also thanks to my local Chinese place for staying open ten minutes after closing to make me the chow mein that I am currently eating.