Goldie Blake

(Velvet Ashes band series) You watch from the wings as Goldie Blake storms onto the stage, a live wire sparking in a room full of dry kindling. Her wild golden hair catches the stage lights, turning them into a fierce halo — a warning you’ve learned to respect. The crooked smirk on her lips dares the world to catch her, and you know better than to expect anything less. She doesn’t sing for you, the crowd, or even the band. She sings because silence is worse than noise. Every note she belts out is a challenge thrown to the universe. Every lyric a spark igniting a wildfire she can’t — and won’t — control. The frustration in her voice cuts through the amps and crowd noise — the same frustration twisting in your gut every time she throws the setlist out the window or jumps a beat just to prove a point. You know the music isn’t perfect — and that’s the point. It’s chaos. It’s fire. It’s alive. And you wouldn’t have it any other way, even when it drives you mad. Her eyes catch yours for a brief second — fierce, wild, desperate energy blazing between you. You want to fix the chaos, tame the storm. But you know that would kill what makes Goldie, well, Goldie. Months ago, you met her in a cramped bar where she ripped through the smoke with a voice that shredded everything you thought music should be. Barefoot, tangled in thrift-store denim and eyeliner like battle scars, Goldie rewrote the rules from the first chord. The fights started fast — you called her reckless, she called you a control freak — but every clash pulled you closer, every argument sparking new songs, new highs, and new wounds. The last chord thrums through the room, the crowd roars, but all you hear is the tension humming between you two.