by P. J. Post
“I can get changed when he gets here,” Peggy says and then kisses Todd on the cheek.
Todd looks at me and shrugs as his cheeks turn red.
Good for him, but this date shit is fucking setting me on edge. I feel the anxiety changing gears into something less coherent, and I suddenly realize I’m making fists. I make a conscious effort to open my hands and relax.
Tonya can do whatever the fuck she wants, we’re not a couple. Hell, it was just one date, but it was a good date. I’m not Don Juan, but did I really misread her this badly?
Fuck. It’s official — I’m losing it.
“You look cute, no reason to change,” Tonya says to Peg.
The anxiety is too much and standing still isn’t an option anymore, so I pull the aluminum edged, boomerang Formica table away from the wall while Greg and Peggy bring over the folding chairs. I just avoid Tonya, keeping my head down.
I should go. Being here when Mister goddamn Stone gets here isn’t going to help with the whole getting-my-shit-together thing. But I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t even have a car and everyone knows I have nowhere else to be. Making up some lie would just be weird and make more of this than it needs to be.
Shit.
I got this. I’m not a kid anymore. If she wants to date someone else, then what right do I have to say shit about it?
Right?
By the time we’ve arranged the chairs, Todd has found a small jelly jar in the kitchen.
Tonya snaps a mix tape in the cassette player and pushes up the volume. Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl starts us off. Who put this on the mix tape?
I just shake my head. I already feel like I’m drowning and then this songs has to come on — now?
Tonya raises her hands over her head and begins to sway her hips in time with the music as she dances back over to the table, like she’s excited about tonight.
I’m catatonic.
Todd puts the glass down on the table and sets two six-packs next to it.
“Who’s got a quarter?” he asks.
Greg fishes one out of his pocket and bounces it off the table, but misses the glass badly.
“I suck at this,” he says.
Tonya takes a seat across from me. Peggy is sitting to my right next to Todd and Greg is to my left. This sounds like a bad idea.
I look over at Tonya, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s ignoring me just like she did at the Café the other day. But I haven’t had time to fuck anything up, except for going off on her dad.
Shit. Is that what this is about?
It could be, but I don’t think so. What does her date have to do with her dad?
“Clockwise?” Peggy asks through a grin.
“Sounds good,” Todd agrees as he pours the glass half full of beer.
Peggy leans over and snatches up the quarter.
“You ready for this, or do you have something to say?” she asks me with a questioning look. She’s not talking about the game.
I just shake my head. I have a lot to say, but I‘m pretty sure Tonya doesn’t want to hear it.
She takes the quarter and carefully places it between her thumb and middle finger, and then bounces it off the table with a faint thunking noise. The quarter shoots straight up off the table and gently turns over and splashes into the beer.
I raise an eyebrow at her as I take the jelly jar and down the beer, catching the quarter between my teeth.
“You ready to get drunk, Greg?” I ask.
“How come we haven’t played this lately?” Todd asks as he sets up a refill.
We’ve wasted many afternoons playing quarters when his parents were away.
I look at Todd and shrug, and then bounce the quarter cleanly off the table and into the jar.
Greg drinks the beer and reaches in and pulls the quarter out as he eyes Tonya.
Todd leans over, taking his bartending responsibilities seriously and refills the jar.
Greg tries to line up his shot, but misses again.
Tonya doesn’t and neither does Todd. The game continues, each of us getting increasingly buzzed, except for Tonya, because Greg sucks.
And even though Peggy’s a good shot, I’m not nearly numb enough.
When Tonya gets up to flip the mix tape, we hear a knock at the door. Everyone turns their heads to see who it is, but we all know, don’t we? Tonya skips over to the door — she fucking skips.
She tugs the door open and Trevor fucking Stone walks in.
He’s tall.
And tan.
With a jaw like some fucking leading man action hero fucker.
California surf-blown blond hair.
Teeth that sparkle like a fucking dentist commercial and his goddamn eyes are beautiful, blue as fuck. Girls must dig them.
He’s wearing an Izod with Khakis and deck shoes. He has a sweater tied around his shoulders.
I don’t care how good looking he is, Tonya is dating a guy dressed like this? I want to vomit, but first I want to kick his ass.
Okay, so the burning sensation in my nerve endings, the nausea and the overwhelming desire to take out a few of those perfect white teeth is just plain old jealousy. I’ve never felt like this before or anything like it. I’ve never cared enough about anyone for it to matter who they were with or who they were fucking.
And I don’t like it.
I don’t feel in control.
Tonya matters now more than anything or anyone, but everything I’m feeling is ugly and so not cool. I can’t help how I feel on the inside. I’m afraid to even speak for fear of saying something disastrously wrong.
I don’t know this guy from Adam and he never did anything to me. Maybe I should be pissed at Tonya, but I don’t know what her deal is either. Maybe she already had this date planned before yesterday.
No, that’s bullshit.
And I’m back to being a fucking mess.
Tonya forgets the tape and hops over and throws her arms around his neck, hugging him.
And now it’s worse.
I embrace the knowledge that she’d never forgive me if I did anything, so I press my palms onto my knees and try to slow my twitching feet.
“Hi” he says to her, smiling from ear to goddamn ear.
“Come on in, these are my friends. This is Peggy, we just found each other again after, like two years. She’s my best friend. And this is Todd, they’re dating.”
Trevor says hello politely and shakes Todd’s hand who glances to Peggy and mouths dating like it’s a question. She smiles back.
My eyes dart among my friends. I’m waiting for them all to howl and point at me because now they all look like they’re right out of the Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I’m the last uninfected human.
Tonya continues, “And this is Greg. He’s filling in as our drummer for the show this weekend. You have to come, Trevor. Please?”
“I’d be happy to,” he says.
I bet he is.
I realize I’m still wearing my ratty old jeans and nothing else. Tonya was right; I do look like shit, like I’m homeless. I lean my back against the wall, suddenly self conscious.
“Well, if we don’t have to change, we should get going then, huh, guys?” Peggy says.
Greg stands up. “Hey, can you guys give me a lift? I live by the T.G.&Y. I can walk from there.”
“Trevor has a Jag, so he has room.” Tonya smiles.
Of course he has a Jaguar. He’s got money too. Fucking great. Tonya worked that into the conversation easily enough and for no reason other than to what — make me feel insecure?
“And who’s this? You look familiar,” Trevor says, giving Tonya a sideways frown.
Tonya is suddenly and unmistakably uncomfortable, like she been caught pretending I wasn’t sitting here.
I glare up at him, imagining how fast I can come out of this chair and be all over his ass like white on rice. I notice Tonya is apprehensive, like she’s afraid I’m going to act badly — dangerously.
&n
bsp; She looks like she doesn’t trust me and that makes me feel like shit. I take a calming breath and grasp my knees under the table, reminding myself that I’m supposed to be getting my shit together.
“Connor Clay, right?” he says. “You used to play at the Holiday Lounge didn’t you?”
I haven’t thought about those jazz club gigs in a long time. Pleased don’t be a nice guy, please be some fucking asshole to justify what I’m feeling.
I just continue to stare. I’m not cool enough for this shit.
He goes on like everything is copasetic. “You guys were amazing. I used to come just to listen to the band. Remember how all those guys were trying to be all beatnik and all the girls thought they were Patsy Klein?”
He definitely spent some time at the Holiday Lounge, but that doesn’t buy him shit right now.
“So are you in Beth’s…” he begins.
Tonya interrupts him and grabs him by the arm, “Let’s go, okay?” She gives him that sheepish look of hers, and it pisses me off all over again — that’s my look, and I suddenly realize that I’m about to lose it.
Trevor turns to me, “We have plenty of room. What do you say, why don’t you come with us?”
Tonya suddenly looks pale. She starts to say something, but I’m not a total fool, close, but not total.
“No,” is all I manage to get out between clinched teeth.
“Another time, then?” He looks away, like the conversation is over but then turns back, his expression suddenly sullen. “Hey, do you remember Nancy? She’s kind of a mousy girl, a little younger than you?”
“Not ringing any bells.”
“It was before you played at the Lounge. She has Downs…”
I close my eyes and lean back into my chair, deflated. Some might say the wrong place, but I believe I was in the right place at the right time. I just hadn’t thought about that day in a very long time.
It’s weird to hear Trevor bring it up because I just assume that none of my friends have a clue about where I’ve been or the stuff I’ve done.
It was about a year after Annie. I never found out why, but Nancy was alone and a few high school kids had chased her into an alley behind my favorite convenience store. She was so scared, she pissed herself.
That was my first arrest. I was lucky that I got off. I never found out what happened or why they let me go either. I don’t know what those assholes had planned, but when one of them grabbed her skirt, I didn’t wait to find out. I’m pretty sure I put two of them in the hospital that day and I don’t regret a single goddamn punch.
That shit was just wrong.
After my dad picked me up from the police station he gave me the worst beating of my life. I missed a week of school that time. The black eyes were bad, but what I remember most was that that was the first night he used an electric cord.
Good times. Thanks for reminding me Trevor.
I feel Trevor’s hand on my shoulder and I remain still, barely controlling the urge to jerk away. “She was my niece. I was walking her home that day when those delinquents jumped us. They held me down and I told her to run. I never thanked you and I always felt, I always felt like crap about it. I was supposed to protect her, you know? I always meant to say something at the Lounge, thank you, that is, but I, I don’t know, I never did. I’m sorry. I guess I was ashamed.” His voice is very soft and thick with regret.
Hearing him admitting to being ashamed touches me. That takes real courage to say, especially since I was the one that…
Fuck me sideways.
He is a fucking nice guy.
And I guess that explains why they let me go. Trevor must have spoken up about what happened. I open my eyes and see that his are glassy. His memories must live just under his skin too. Regret is a cancerous fucking anchor.
Shit.
And suddenly Nancy is more important than my selfish rage.
“How’s she doing?” I ask quietly.
“Good, real good.” he says.
“I’m just glad I was there,” I say.
“The whole family was. I’m so sorry we never reached out to you. She still talks about you.”
“Maybe I should go see her?” I ask.
“I think she would love that. Really, it would mean a lot to her, to her parents too.”
“Okay, maybe next week; we’ll work something out,” I say.
He reaches out and I shake his hand this time. “Thanks. If you ever need anything, just ask.”
“You bet. Have fun tonight.” I don’t mean it, not really, but what the fuck?
He gives me a grim smile and stands back up.
Tonya hears everything and looks to me with a deep sadness. But Peggy wasn’t paying attention and grabs Tonya, dragging her, laughing, to the parking lot. Tonya’s eyes are full of hurt and she doesn’t look away from me until she’s through the door.
I don’t understand her at all.
And I’m not sure what to think about Peggy. She sounded like she’s on my side, but I’m not so sure about that either. Her actions aren't exactly backing it up.
I grab the quarter off the table and lean back as I flip it into the air.
I catch it and flip it over.
Heads. It’s dated 1977, the year I turned thirteen.
I don’t really need any help remembering my past, but the world seems bent on shoving it in my face today.
I casually bounce the quarter off the table, and it hits the rim of the glass like it’s about to fall in, but takes a weird hop instead and ricochets off the far side, skipping over the edge and falling back to the table. It lands on edge, and then slowly rolls down the length of the table before falling off to the floor.
I just shake my head. Fate’s like that; it brings Tonya and me back together, I get a small taste of how good happiness can feel and then something else hits us, like the ricochet, and then I’m off the table and out of the picture, just like the quarter.
Fate’s a bitch.
And Trevor’s a really decent guy too. He seems to get it. I have no right to be pissed at him, he doesn’t know jack about anything going on here, and the last of the ugly jealousy slowly melts away.
But I’m still irrationally pissed and not so irrationally hurt.
What’s up with Tonya?
Fuck.
Just, fuck!
Love sucks.
7
The Palomino
The Palomino is a bar that sits back from an access road in the middle of an oil field on the west side of the city. It used to be a country and western dance club, then a buffet restaurant, and after that it was a strip club, then a honky-tonk and now it’s just a big room with a decent stage, a loud P.A. and a license to sell beer. But the name always remains the same because out on the edge of the parking lot, by the main road, is a huge, weather ravaged sign that is visible for half a mile — The Palomino Club.
I got a lift from Todd and Peggy last night to the good old Happy Time Laundry, so I have clean clothes for a change and I’m wearing the embroidered shirt I got from the second hand shop — I’m Alex the bowler tonight. I thought I should clean up before going down to the Emergency Room to get the stitches cut out of my head.
That was fun. But I did get to finally lose the ski cap.
I’m still pissed at Todd because he ditched me for a lunch date with Peggy and Tonya and Trevor, so I had to walk. For the last two days, Tonya and Peggy have been practically inseparable, except when Tonya is with Trevor and Peggy is with Todd, or when they are all together. We barely got enough rehearsal time in. I was happier when I didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. Hope is an evil fucking thing and love is worse yet, especially when it’s one sided.
Todd’s obsessed with Peggy, but I don’t really blame him. I certainly can’t cast stones. The only difference is: he’s actually spending time with the girl of his dreams. I’m just pathetically holding on to the same old fucking Sterling Hills fantasy.
I’ve got a bad feeling about
tonight and the band. Something feels all fucked up. Don’t fall in love with band mates. Rumors is a great album, but Jesus Christ, there’s a lesson there.
I ignore Todd on the drive over, hanging my bare feet out of the van window and smoking cigarettes while we listen to the crappy radio in Tonya’s van — the same Golden Oldies AM station Tonya and I were listening to the other night. But Buddy Holly and the other rock ‘n roll founders gave us something truly incredible. I twitch my toes to the beat. The wind is cool racing through my toes and against my feet.
On any other day this would be a nice afternoon — on any other day.
Tonya is catching a ride with Peggy, and Greg is borrowing his parent’s car or something. We’re supposed to meet up at the club early, but we’ll see when they really get here.
“What’s up, dude?” Todd finally asks once as we drive into the rutted and potholed parking lot.
“What?”
“You’re being all weird. What’s going on?” he asks.
“Shit, I don’t know. Everyone suddenly has boyfriends and girlfriends, and I had to walk to the goddamn Emergency Room today and fuck, no one is ever around anymore.”
“Oh, sorry about the head thing, but I was getting laid. Given my options, your head lost. It’s been two, three days drama boy. What’s your issue?”
“Sorry. Never mind.”
“What do you think of Trevor?” Todd asks.
Really? Let’s just cut my goddamn heart out right the fuck here.
“He’s cool. Seems like a nice enough guy,” I manage to say.
“It’s weird though, you know when we’re out.”
“Look, I don’t need to know, okay?” I say more defensively than I mean to.
“Don’t get you panties in a bunch. What’s it to you anyway?” he asks.
“Nothing, it’s none of my business,” I say.
“I don’t know about business, but she’s stand-offish, know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t. Can we talk about something else?” I plead.
“She’s way more friendly with him when he’s at the Garage, than when we’re out.”
“So?”
“Peggy and me are all over each other.”
“Yeah, you’re going through puberty with a stripper, good for you,” I say.
