— We’re going to need to steal those things over there! — said Benito, pointing at a drum set behind the opera singer. — Do you guys have any paint to “vandalize” that?
— Of course, Che! — Kennedy confirmed, winking at Benito.
— To get in there, we’ll have to knock that guy out, — I explained.
— I brought a pan! — Valen announced.
— Then hit him with it! — I said, excited.
We were about to head out and carry out the plan when Benito pulled me back, and we all looked at him.
— And what’s the name of your band? — he asked.
I looked at my friends, and they simply nodded, giving me the confidence to speak.
— The Diablo Sons, — I replied. — That’s the name.
Benito smiled, and I gave him a quick kiss on the lips before hugging him.
— Break a leg, guys! — Benito said, using theater slang to wish us luck.
— We’re already in deep shit, Benito, — I said, winking.
Valentina approached the opera singer and hit him over the head with the pan, knocking him unconscious. The boys dragged him away, and the rest of his band ran off, terrified.
We grabbed the spray paint and used it on the curtain behind us, writing the band’s name. Everyone in front of us stopped dancing. I placed the microphone in the center, and the sharp feedback it let out made everyone fix their eyes on us.
That’s when Kennedy started the performance with his guitar solo, opening the way for me to sing “God Save the Queen.”
As I sang, people watched us in shock. Then a girl started screaming. That was the sign that our revolution had worked. With her scream, everyone around her began to dance and shout too. Except for Dorian, who stood there in disbelief, unable to react.
Not even his admirers could snap him out of his trance.
Valentina and I took advantage of our performance to do provocative dances, shaking our hips and blowing kisses and winks at the crowd. The boys flirted with the girls at the party, and sometimes with a few guys as well—leaving the older guests there in shock and horror.
We finished the performance, and everyone applauded and called for an encore.
— Unfortunately, we can’t continue, — I said regretfully — but maybe soon, who knows?
The crowd cheered excitedly, and we ran off—because Dorian had grown furious and had slipped away from everyone to come after us.
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