seven

It’s always been some boy in some band somewhere making my life many things: always interesting, glammed out, drunk, lost, off the rails, 3am in a parking lot with my head in my hands or singing on a roof top because it seems like a great idea at the time. It’s always been someone and in 1999 it was you.

You weren’t supposed to be like that. I was told numerous times to stay away from you. You ate little girls like me for breakfast. And then had another one for lunch. You had this girlfriend that looked like she fell out of Playboy.  You relentlessly asked for thongs from girls to hang on the wall or something. You did crazy shit that people talked about for days. You were impossibly beautiful. You said the weirdest things to me whenever we were alone. Eyebrows raised. Always those silly arching eyebrows and that killer grin that made women made of more than me pull all their clothes off and beg for it. They told me to stay away from you. And Lord did I try.

It was the night you got back from a tour. A big homecoming show. I got off my club gig early to see you. I remember my friends at the time were really into taking a wee bit more Metabolife than you were supposed to, for the buzz. I think I’d taken three during my shift and I remember thinking “Why am I so nervous about going to this show? They TOLD me to come. I’m not even paying to get in. WTF?”

My cell phone rang at 9:30. It was my friend who was already at the show telling me to get my ass down there. You were going to play next. I remember checking my hair and making the dash down the street to the other club. One of the other guys in your band handed me a beer when I got inside, knowing I wasn’t 21. As I went to thank him he grabbed my arm.

“Watch out, he’s on the prowl tonight.”

“I’m not here for that.”

“You’re not who I’m worried about.”

You played. I took pictures. It’s what I did. I took a million pictures of you guys that year. And I have pictures of you realizing I showed up. And pictures of you pulling your trip on me. And pictures of my friend in your band looking on like I hadn’t heard a word he said. And I didn’t. Because I was watching you, wondering what the fuck you were thinking, so close to my face that you could have kissed me, grinning at me like that in front of all those people. And I wondered what I was doing there and why it was your turn to be THAT GUY in my head that summer.

After the show you hugged me like you hadn’t seen me in months. Sweated all over me. Wouldn’t let go. Inside my guts were doing the hokey pokey. Outside I was just trying not to sweat more. Outside I was trying to ignore the people staring at me because you had your arm around me. I even tried to step away, you grabbed me closer. I remember trying to ask you where your centerfold girlfriend was and before I could finish the sentence you told me she was out of town. I was never so grateful for a beer as I was for the one someone walked by and handed me. I think I drank it in less than five minutes.

You talked to some more people. I stood there remembering that breathing goes “in and out,” and not “choke choke choke.” You smelled good even though it was 100 degrees in that basement. I stood there not saying anything. Not even when you asked me to hold your stuff a little while later while you changed shirts in the middle of the emptying club. Not even when you put your arm around me again like this was normal.  My friends had long gone and it was just me and your friends who were probably wondering what I was doing there too.

“You could come to the party.” You were talking to me. I didn’t even know, since I was trying so hard not to say something stupid. You tugged me towards the door, up the stairs out on to the street. The summer air was cold in comparison to the humid basement. I kept willing my brain to FUNCTION, to make this worth it or to get out of the situation before I did something dumb. You looked amazing, standing there on this sidewalk, neon glow, heartbreaking grin, hungry even, like an animal or something. You put your hands in my hair for a minute.

“Do you remember when we played that show that you MCd awhile back up at the college?”

“Yeah.” I say, surprised that I can talk with you this close to my face.

“Remember when I gave you that muscle relaxer and fixed your eyeliner in the stairwell?”

“Yeah.” Inwardly kicking myself for being such a wordsmith, I nod to make my point.

“I wanted to kiss you then. Just to see what it was like.”

Yeah, you know just to see what it was like. In front of thousands of people who could see into that stairwell. Just to see what it was like in front of people who did see you do this and asked me about it later. Right.

I broke your gaze. I said something lame about needing to leave. I knew this wasn’t the best idea. I even started to run once I hit the corner and you couldn’t see me anymore, because I’d go back if I wasn’t careful. I’d be one of them, just like all the other ones, one of the ones you didn’t wonder about anymore.