Pop Life

by Ryan Loveless

  "Oh," I said. I rubbed the back of my neck. I shouldn't have asked. "So, best friends ever since?" My voice edged with sarcasm.

  "He's had a shit time of it, too, you know," Jamie said. "You think I'm messed up? I'm a fucking role model compared to him, so don't be so hard on him."

  "Why don't you give that speech to Keelin, too, see what he thinks about it?"

  "Why don't you ask yourself why you're blaming Jeff when Paeder's the one who thinks he deserves a wife, a boyfriend, and a bit on the side? You think Jeff is any less used in that situation than Keelin or Paeder's wife? If he takes it out into the open, I say good for him. Keelin should know, and Russell should know. It's not doing them any good if they don't."

  I felt my lips squeeze into a smile, or an approximation of one, over Jamie's change. He might claim not to be the loyal, dedicated type, but he certainly could stand up for his friends. "So… Jeff is potentially dangerous, but I'm supposed to feel bad for him because he's also getting shit on just like everyone else who comes in contact with Paeder? I'm not sure how that works."

  Jamie sighed. "It's not just about Paeder. Jeff's had a rough life and… he's dark, too. That's all right for me because I've got this need sometimes… I can't sleep and sometimes I just need to forget… and he can get me into another place. It's not a safe place like you get me to, but it's some place I need to go sometimes. That's not a place for you. Whatever happened with Jeff earlier, whatever made you do that, don't do it again, alright?" He sounded more sad than angry, even though he had the look in his eyes that said he intended to get his way.

  Even though a need for darkness hadn't been the reason I'd kissed Jeff, I thought about how empty I'd felt after Kate had gone. It wasn't so much linked to her leaving as it was to the idea that I ruined something that was supposed to have been wonderful but never really was, that I'd gotten it wrong from the beginning. "You don't have any idea what I need."

  He touched my face, fingertips to my cheek. "It would break my heart if you needed that."

  I smiled to stop my facade from breaking. I was holding myself so tightly, so carefully, to keep from falling apart in front of him. I turned it into anger. "And what did you need tonight? The Jeff special?"

  "I needed to burn off some energy. We fucked the girls, not each other."

  "Great," I said. "Good for you."

  He moved his hand down to my neck. "Didn't know you'd be so jealous. Thought you were just watching out for me." His thumb stroked my jaw and dipped into my mouth. I pushed it away.

  "Don't even think about it," I said. "I know where your dick's been." I didn't think he was implying anything like that, but joking with him seemed like less of a tightrope walk between acceptable and disastrous plummet.

  He pulled back, laughing. "Fair enough." There was a break in his laughter that let a sliver of disappointment through. He was probably thinking that I was rejecting him. Not ten minutes earlier, I'd been practically rubbing off on him and now I wouldn't touch him? I was starting to regret all of it. When he'd asked me to show him how Jeff had kissed me, I should have said no, should have pulled my sleeves down and kept it to myself. I was such an idiot. That kiss—those kisses—could have fucked up everything I'd tried to do for him.

  I couldn't let that happen.

  A bird flew past the window. I had a quick vision of it falling and grabbed the window ledge to fight off the vertigo that followed it. The morning sun was starting to blend with the artificial light, giving everything a painted look, like in a dream. "Jamie, can I tell you something?"

  "Yeah."

  "I want to have sex with you." I wasn't sure how he'd take that, wasn't sure if he felt the same. After all, he hadn't made any attempt to urge me in that direction while we were kissing, which would have been the ideal time.

  "Okay." He seemed cautious in his reply. "I could shower first…" I stared at him, trying to process his nervousness, as if my confession would mean something to him, too. I didn't know if he knew what it meant for me to say that. I hadn't slept with anyone since Kate.

  "No. Not now…" I said. He seemed to relax, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Did he not want me? The set of his shoulders dropped slightly. "You're right, I'm the committed, dedicated type. I don't do one night stands or random one-offs, even repeated ones. I'm not going to be your fuck buddy."

  "I wouldn't ask you to be," he interrupted, but I shook my head to stop him from saying anything else.

  "I want you to be happy, and I want you to feel safe. If you feel safe with me, then that's great. Maybe we can make something out of that, but I'm not going to… for my own sanity I can't give myself to you, either sexually or emotionally, unless I know I'm getting all of you back."

  "Can't give yourself emotionally?" he asked after a brief pause when he turned to the window again and his eyes flicked back and forth following the traffic.

  "No," I said.

  He turned back to me. "Fuck, Drew. You think you haven't already? If you could see the way you look at me, you wouldn't even question that."

  I didn't say anything. I didn't have to see how I looked at him. I could feel it. He made me unsteady, dizzy, and absolutely positive that whatever I did, I needed to not fuck this up.

  He squeezed my shoulder. "I don't cry in front of just anyone."

  "So?"

  "So, I guess you've got me, too." His face went blank as if every thought had left him except for this one. I wondered if it was the first time he had realized it. "I think you've had me for awhile."

  I remembered how he had crumbled at my feet two years ago while my lips were still wet with his kiss and how I hadn't known what to do. I still wasn't sure that I did. "I'll be careful with you." It was the best promise I could make.

  He touched my chin with his index finger and tilted it up. I saw what he was doing when he moved his face closer, and I reached up to him, sliding my arms around his back. This time the kiss was soft and slow. I tasted his lips and let him taste mine before our mouths opened and my tongue slipped into his. He held his hands still on my back, but I tightened mine around his shirt and pushed my fists against him. This was how I'd wanted it, all of him, here and focused on me. Not on nightmares or reenactments or pushing through an alcoholic haze. He pushed into my mouth with his tongue, and I retreated willingly from his. There was no battle here, no give and take, only give and receive and give again.

  When we stopped, I rested against his shoulder and looped my arms around his waist. He was warm and solid, and I could have stayed there feeling his heart against mine until the sun was streaming through the window.

  "I'm going to miss you," he said.

  The words dropped like cold water over me. "Miss me?" I pulled back.

  "I'm still leaving. I have obligations. You do, too, unless you've forgotten about Paeder."

  "I can write anywhere." I tried to hold onto him, but he was stepping away. "Jamie."

  "Let's just… We need to think about this. Make sure we're doing the right thing."

  I nodded. "Some space. Right. Because you are not the type of person to dive into things."

  There was no mirth in his laughter. "Exactly."

  When he walked out the door, I had the feeling I wouldn't see him again.

  I went after him, tearing down the hallway in my come-stained shorts and sweatshirt.

  * * * *

  Music Meter Magazine

  Feature: How Was the Show?

  Concert: Jamie Webster, 15 March 1989

  Aberdeen AECC

  By Staff

  Published 16 May 1989

  How was the show?

  Dathan Williams, 23: "It was amazing. I've seen Jamie live before and he just gets better and better."

  Betsy Graham, 19: "My friends and I were a little disappointed that he didn't drop his trousers. I think we're the only ones who haven't seen his arse. He didn't even unbutton his shirt! No, seriously, it was a great show."

  Alex Mosely, 28: "He wasn't dancing as
well as he usually does, but his voice was top notch. He's an astounding performer."

  Tawny Bryce, 22: "He did the Daniel cover. That Elton John song? Oh my God, I could have died. And his smile! It's like he's looking straight at you. Seriously, stop me because I'll go on for ages…"

  Chapter Eleven

  Jamie unlocked his door and walked in first, but he held it open for me. I followed him in, and when he still didn't say anything, I sat on the dresser with my arm on the television and watched him poke around in his suitcase. The room was completely changed. The former haphazard piles of clothes were stacked in neat rows in the suitcase. The floor was clean and clear. Once again, a person could tell that the rug was pink and not an amalgamation of clothing and paper. Audrey had been busy while Jamie was out.

  "What?" Jamie asked.

  "You didn't mean it, did you? We're not 'taking it slow'; you're taking off."

  Jamie glanced up, pursed his lips, and smashed his socks into a corner of the suitcase.

  "I'll take that as a yes," I said.

  "Would you check the bathroom for me?"

  I pushed myself off the dresser and trudged to the bathroom. The shirt he was wearing the day I arrived was on the floor. I picked it up. It smelled like him. Before I knew what I was doing, I had pulled my sweatshirt off and put that one on. I tucked it into my pants and put my sweatshirt on over it. Gathering an armful of toiletries, I returned to the bedroom. If Jamie noticed that the collar of his shirt was now visible at my neck, he didn't mention it.

  "I thought Audrey would have done the bathroom, too." I dropped the bottles on the bed.

  He looked up long enough to give me a brief glare. "I'm not completely helpless."

  "I didn't mean it like that."

  "Right," he said, shaking off his annoyance. "Sorry. Here, give me some of those."

  I handed him his shampoo and conditioner. He made slots for them between his clothes and slid them into the suitcase.

  "You should wrap those in something so they don't leak," I said. I gave him the bottle of cologne. I wondered if he noticed how slowly I was handing them over, trying to give him time to rethink what he was about to do.

  "Don't worry so much."

  "I could do it for you, if you like."

  "It's fine, Drew."

  "Okay. Sorry."

  "C'mere," Jamie said. I looked up, risking hope, but Jamie was motioning to the suitcase. I slid over and pressed down on it so Jamie could zip it.

  Jamie picked up the suitcase. "Well, all right," he said.

  "That's it?" I asked. My hand went to the suitcase handle. It was the same thing I had done with Kate. For some reason I believed that if I held onto their baggage, they couldn't leave me.

  "I'm not any good at goodbyes."

  At least he was saying it was goodbye now and not sticking with a charade. Then his words sank in, and I yanked the bag towards me. Of all the things… "That's one of my lyrics. You're saying goodbye to me by quoting me?" I could feel my jaw hanging open.

  "Well, it's true, isn't it?" He had the grace to look embarrassed.

  "It doesn't have to be goodbye. You said yourself, we go slowly, give it a chance…" I hardly believed I was saying it, but I knew I'd regret it if I didn't.

  Jamie stared at me. The spit in my mouth dried.

  "Jamie." I had to say something magical because he was about to hurt himself. He was already hurting me. My lips parted.

  "Bye, Andrew," Jamie said. He pried my fingers off of his bag.

  "Wait! Look, whatever you're scared of, it doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to keep it to yourself."

  Jamie stopped with his hand on the doorknob. His shoulders slumped, and he hit his head on the door with a muffled thud. He did not turn around. "You'll thank me," he said. "Someday you will." He inhaled and forced himself to stand straight. He opened the door.

  "Jamie?" My voice cracked.

  Jamie glanced down the hall. "Don't say anything else, okay, Drew? I can't, I… I… just don't."

  Then he was gone. I was alone. Again.

  I squinted and blinked, and I did not cry. I was too stunned for it. I sat on Jamie's bed and phoned Michael.

  "Drew? What's wrong?" Michael asked. I had not even said 'hello.'

  I rolled onto my side and brought my knees to my chest. "Jamie's gone."

  "Are you okay?"

  "You're not going to say 'I told you so'?"

  "Why should I? Andrew? Are you okay?"

  "I'll get by." It had only been four days. I had no reason to feel like this except… except this was how I fell in love, too fast, too hard, as if I were love's lightning rod. It hit me without warning and left me frazzled and burning and alone.

  "You're coming home tonight?"

  "Yeah."

  "I'll get the pretzels out."

  "Thanks. I'll see you soon."

  I hung up. I wanted to be still for a few minutes. Make everything stop. It didn't, though. The pillow still smelled like him. The television remote still had his finger smudges. The phone still had Audrey's number taped to it. I forced myself up and trudged back to my room. It wasn't much better there, but I pulled the curtain shut and tried to sleep.

  * * * *

  I was packing when Keelin knocked on the door. "Can I come in?" he asked when I opened it. "I need a break."

  "Sure." I moved back to let him through. He flopped on the bed between my duffel and garment bags.

  "You're leaving today?"

  "Supposed to leave yesterday," I said.

  "Jamie got you to stay?"

  "Yep."

  He plucked a rolled pair of socks out of the duffel bag and started tossing and catching it, lying there on his back. "You like him?"

  "Yeah," I said. I caught the socks and put them back. Then I went into the bathroom, partly because I needed to, but mainly because I didn't want to talk about Jamie. When I came out a few minutes later, arms full of toiletries, he was sitting up.

  "Did you find Paeder?"

  "He was at his brother's pub over on Tenth. We've been fighting for the past—" He glanced at the clock "—six hours. I've been fighting, he's been… positive that he did nothing wrong."

  "If he needed a break—" I ventured.

  "Jeff was there. I saw him slipping out, but Paeder tried to tell me my eyes were playing tricks."

  "Oh," I said.

  "I need some space," he said, lying down again. His left foot jiggled up and down with pent-up energy.

  "Keelin?" Outside, we heard Paeder yelling. Then someone, probably him, pounded on the door. We both looked at it. Keelin looked weary as I decided that that door was staying shut.

  "Come with me. You and Russell."

  "Yeah?" Keelin asked. "You won't mind?

  I shrugged. "We've had fun before, right? Besides, Michael's already pulling the pretzels out for me."

  "Pretzels?"

  "It's my comfort food. Michael knows about Jamie." There was more to it, of course, like the fact that Michael knew automatically what I needed, like the fact that he'd been there after Kate. Not that I was comparing this to Kate. It just felt… I felt empty, like I'd missed out on something and now that something fucking hurt. I was going to fill it up with pretzels and Michael and sleep.

  "Oh. So, it didn't work out?"

  "Probably not," I said. I didn't feel like going into it. I'd tried to sleep through most of the hurt and disappointment, but it hadn't worked. Now that I was awake, it was still there, still digging into me. Keelin was chewing on his lip. When he saw me watching him, he stopped. Paeder shouted again. The door muffled him enough that we could still talk.

  Looking at the door, Keelin said, "Yeah, I'll go. Thanks."

  "No problem."

  He called Russell to tell him to pack and then three other people to take care of their travel arrangements and schedules. I finished packing. By the time everything was done, Paeder had stopped yelling.

  Russell called a few minutes later to tell us h
e was at the elevator with their suitcases. When I opened the door to leave, Paeder was sitting sideways in front of it with his legs stretched out. He looked like shit, his blond hair askew and dull and his eyes rimmed in red. I almost felt bad for him, but then he had to speak.

  "What's going on?" He pulled himself to his feet, using the doorjamb for leverage. He winced and shook his legs, probably trying to wake them up.

  "Russell and I are going home with Andrew. I need a vacation," Keelin said.

  "What do you call this? You've sat on your ass all week while I've worked."

  "I mean I need a vacation from you."

  He grabbed Keelin's arm. "Keelin, don't leave me like this." I slipped past them. There was no way I was getting stuck in the middle of that.

  "Goodbye," Keelin said firmly.

  "You're coming back?" Paeder followed us to the elevator like a lost puppy. I was starting to feel bad for him again, which was probably what he counted on to keep people coming back to him.

  Keelin wasn't showing any sympathy, though. "That depends on you. I need my arm back, please."

  Paeder released him, allowing him to step into the elevator where Russell and I were already waiting.

  The elevator door closed on Paeder's indignant, confused face, as if he had no idea what Keelin had meant by saying his return depended on what Paeder did. Keelin leaned against Russell. Watching the digital numbers count down, I never felt so relieved. I was going home.

  Part Two

  * * * *

  "You tug me left and right

  You shake me up, you make me choose

  What can I do?

  I hate myself without you.

  Don't want to be without you"

  —Paeder Brogan, "Confession"

  Words and Music by Andrew Brennan and Michael Scott Martin, Wide Variety, Ltd.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Celebrity Spy

  Seen and Heard