Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

==='''The Night at the Ugly Ferret'''===
The night of the Stone Bench Group’s first performance at the Ugly Ferret had a strange energy—equal parts excitement, nerves, and underlying tension. The word had spread fast among the people who had seen them play at backyard parties, and a fair number had shown up, eager to see if the SBG could bring that same magic to a real venue. But there were also others in the crowd—some curious, some skeptical, and a few who made the air feel heavier just by being there.

Lucky worked the bar, keeping a close eye on the crowd. He was the kind of man who had seen enough trouble in his life to know when it was creeping in, and tonight, trouble might be lurking in the shadows. Smiley, though nearly unrecognizable in his disguise, sat in a corner nursing a drink, a couple of the old biker girls with him, chatting in low voices. Scattered through the room were members of local gangs, their eyes sharp, assessing, waiting to see what kind of place this would become.

The SBG huddled in the back before their set. Gadget could see the nervous energy in them—Eddie was bouncing on the balls of his feet, Holden kept checking his guitar, Jax had a protective arm around Cali, whispering to her. Tiffy, usually the loudest, was oddly quiet, biting her lip as she adjusted her mic.

“You guys got this,” Gadget said firmly, making eye contact with each of them. “We’ve played in worse places.”

“Yeah, but not in front of people who might stab us if they don’t like the music,” Eddie muttered.

“Then play like your life depends on it,” Waldo said with a smirk.

The set started rough—Cali's hands were shaking, and Eddie missed a chord in the first song. But then something shifted. Maybe it was the way the crowd responded, the way the backyard party crowd cheered them on, drowning out the murmurs of the skeptics. Maybe it was the spray paint event happening around them—cans hissing as people tagged the walls in wild, chaotic bursts of color, marking over the old grime and the ghosts of the bar’s past. The energy in the room changed, and so did the music.

By the third song, they were in their groove. Holden’s guitar sang, Eddie found his swagger, and Cali—despite the weight of her trauma—closed her eyes and let the music carry her. The nervousness was gone, replaced by something raw and alive.

By the time they finished, the crowd erupted in cheers. Even the ones who had been skeptical at first seemed to have been won over. Smiley, still hidden in his disguise, gave a slow nod of approval. The gang members in the back exchanged looks, their interest piqued.

The Stone Bench Group had made their mark. The Ugly Ferret was no longer just a relic of its past—it was becoming something new.