They say that business had a language all to its own. The whispers and tongues that made million dollar deals happen, saints into sinners and sinners into Mother Teresa. Ned Attwater considered himself a respectable businessman and the language of sin and desire did he speak well indeed. He was currently situated at a table, about halfway between the bar, the stage and the door, the three focal points of human traffic, his view give him a near three hundred and sixty degree view of the venue. In all honesty the place was a shit hole, but it was a starting point to watch the birds leave the nest. Drake and his odd gathering of individuals had begged him for weeks to book the place, Ned knew the owners and it wouldn't be too hard to call in a favor but he had waited, he needed to be sure they were ready and finally they were ready, Ned felt it. So here they were in the land of cold wood floors stained with vomit and blood and the smell of cigarette thick as it wafted through the air. 

Ned sat at the round table, cardboard boxes with shirts and even a few CDs all homemade of course laying within. The smell of his most recent cigarette coating each exhale he took as he talked to three young women standing across from him: a blond, brunette and a redhead. He was wearing those stupid pair of Aviators that seemed to be permanently attached to his face, stubble coating his face and a bright smile on his face. He was a lot of things but Ned was always a very personable person, he had the smile of a man that could make everyone in the room feel like his best friend in the world and the eyes that would tell you that it was best not to allow him too close at any rate. A lit Dunhill was in his right hand as he talked to the three women in front of him, his voice was smooth and deep as if his throat had been coated in a thick coat of whiskey. 

"So how much will it take to get you three mademoiselles to take off your shirts?" Ned asked them with a grin on his face. He doubled back as the redhead brought her hand back ready to go in for the kill, the other two voicing their disgust in less physical ways. Ned put one hand up in front of him with a single digit up, the nonverbal just one minuet. He reached into one of the cardboard boxes in front of him labeled in almost illegible scrawl [b]Shirts.[/b] He pulled three out, they were homemade out of Drake's garage with some financial backing from Ned as how it usually went. They were simple and clean nothing too fancy just with Out Of Thin Air printed being spelt out of the smoke coming out from a cigarette the one love that Ned and Drake could both agree on. He put the three shirts out on the table in front of the three girls as he began to speak. 

"Girls, girls, girls relax! I may be a pervert, but I'm also a gentlemen and I would not throw myself upon you fine girls without first offering you a drink. No, I'm strictly talking business here. All I'm asking you to do is to wear the fine band that will be playing for you tonight shirts. So that others can see them and then want to buy some of there own, of course your "feminine assets" will not hurt in helping this process proceed, sex sells of course it will only be if you so desire. But think about in this way in the end I get some publicity for my merchandise and each of you get to meet President of the United States of America Mr. Ulysses S. Grant. So we all get to win?" Ned Explained as his went to his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet and out came three green bills as he put them on the table each on top of a shirt as he took a drag of the Dunhill. He watched as the three girls whispered to themselves and debated. His eyes gazed across the venue, it was starting to get more and more populated as the crowds off from work for the night began to come in. They had done some minor publicly around down the week leading up, a few flyers here and there nothing too big but anything to draw in a crowd.

The girls came to a decision and nodded to Ned as they took the money and the shirts off of the table. Ned broke out a full smile cheek to cheek his teeth white almost unnaturally to the point shining as he give a small laugh and nodded to the girls. "Oh well that is just lovely girls, I knew that you would pull through! Now all three of you go to the bathroom and change into those shirts, I didn't just pay you to stand around and looked pretty... Oh wait technically I just did. Anyway rapide, rapide! Maybe when the night is not so young, you can take those shirts off again from another reason."

Ned chuckled to himself as the three girls walked away towards the bathroom, the show would be started in no time at all and it was time to give his last parting words of advice to his chicks before they left the nest. He sauntered over to the stage seemingly gliding across the wood floor, his shoes seemingly never touching the ground. He stopped right in front of the stage and give them all a salute and half a grin before taking another drag from his Dunhill, as he exhaled a long lazy smoke ring danced across the open air before vanishing as it hit the stage lights. He looked them all over as he made a motion with his arm as he did his best to draw them all inwards to him as he prepared to give his pep talk. He cleared his throat, shook his head once left to right and then again right to left before he spoke. 

"You all here? Good, great, fine whatever. I'm not the type to give encouraging speeches before the big game; I would be a terrible little league coach in the movies. I want to make that perfectly clear. But this being your one and only chance, I figured that I might as well take a swing at it. Months of our time have gone into planning and preparing for this gig, and let me be flat out and say this if you guys bomb you will have little to no chance at keeping this band afloat here or anywhere for that matter. No pressure of course. But that is not going to happen today, today they are not going to throw beer bottles and hurl insults at you, today will be the start of something." Ned stopped talking as he walked to his left a few paces to a wall covered in photos of a myriad of different bands, the names of the band and the band members scribbled around the photos. 

" This here gentlemen and ladies is the Wall of Fame. Twenty local area bands had their start here and manged to get the hell out of here, the made it in varying degrees of stardom. You and I both know that y'all have the ability to become number twenty one. This is the moment that will deiced the rest of this band's life. I understand this place is a shit hole in the middle of nowhere, but tonight you will make it your shit hole. You have a little bit less then ten minutes before you start. Godspeed and Good Luck. And as they say back in the old country Don't Fuck Up." And with those "inspiring" words of wisdom, Ned give the band one last salute before he turned and walked away back to the table, his cigarette lighting the murky darkness around him as the last embers died out. The last words the band would hear from him till after their set was over was simply.

"Sabrina! Another Irish Car Bomb!"