Before the Flock

by David Inglish

  “Dude. Shut up or you’ll kill it,” the Jovi says. “The less talking the better. Go dance with her.”

  Eric holds out his hand. Summer takes it. They join the throbbing throng, rubbing bellies, gyrating. She backs up against Eric and starts rubbing up and down until he grabs her and says, “Little baby’s gonna burst!”

  She laughs and pulls his hand underneath her dress. “Surprise! No panties!”

  “Is it too early to say I love you?”

  She reaches back and unbuttons his black bluejeans. “Yes.”

  Eric feels the room shift, lifts his hands to her breasts, runs his fingers around the rim of her nipples, tugs at them from outside the dress, breathes in at her neck. “I want you to know, so far, this is the best night of my life.”

  She flips around and bites him on the neck. He runs his hand up her leg, gently grazing the little hairs on the back of her thigh. “I feel like someone’s watching us,” she whispers in his ear, and stuffs him back in his jeans.

  “Isn’t that the point?” He moves in for her lips.

  She holds him a few inches away. “Did Kurt go home with his wife?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s a real bitch.”

  He kisses her clavicle. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What fun is that?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  “What. Are you going to take me to your car?”

  “No. I’m gonna take you to the hood of my car.”

  She laughs. “You guys in Thunderstik are all the same. It’s all about the touchdown, the home run, the knockout punch; you guys just want to get to the top of the mountain, stick your flag in the ground, and go home.”

  “And sleep. So?”

  “So then you’re done.”

  “I like to climb the mountain again in the morning.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Who?”

  “Kurt’s wife.”

  “Priscilla. What are you gonna ask for a lock of her hair?”

  “No. That’s Sophie and my mom. I’m a realist.”

  “Me too. We’re perfect for each other.” Eric moves in.

  She softly touches her lips to his. “I’m perfect for you. I don’t know if you’re perfect for me.”

  “God damn it. I did it again.”

  “Did what?”

  “Talked myself right out of getting laid, didn’t I?”

  “You’re a nice guy.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Who’s that girl?” Priscilla asks Kurt while they are heading down the 5 freeway to San Diego.

  “What girl?”

  “That blonde girl.”

  “Sophie?”

  “No, the other girl.”

  “I don’t know. Never seen her before in my life.”

  “You had sex with her, didn’t you?”

  “No, baby. I don’t even know who she is.”

  Kurt watches as Priscilla’s big sad eyes well up with tears. He presses his index fingers into his temples, opens his jaw, and stares at the floor.

  “I know you know who she is. Why do you lie to me?”

  “Who is she? I told you, I’ve never seen—”

  “SHE’S THE WITCH’S DAUGHTER! DON’T LIE TO ME! IT’S AN INSULT!” Her hands tremble on the wheel. “SHE’S NOT THE FIRST EITHER, IS SHE?”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I DON’T?” Her chest heaves. “YOU COME HOME AT FOUR, FIVE, SIX IN THE MORNING WITH WOMEN’S PERFUME ALL OVER YOU. I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON.”

  “NOTHING’S GOING ON!” Kurt takes a deep drag off his smoke. “I DO THIS FOR YOU!” He holds the cigarette in the air, sinks the ember into the flesh of his hand. It smolders. Sparks fall. He screams, pounds the same fist on the dashboard, and shakes his head violently.

  They sit in silence.

  “Kurt? Are you taking your medication?”

  “LOOK AT ME! I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU! FOR US! FOR THE MUSIC! I CAN’T DO ANY OF THIS ON MEDICATION.”

  Priscilla sees a sign for a rest stop. She swerves into the exit lane and slows the car to a halt between two giant big rigs. “Look at me. I have to be at work in six hours. I have to be cheerful for customers in six hours. The least you can do for me is tell me the truth. I want to hear the truth come out of your mouth. Have you been faithful to me?”

  Kurt looks down, a putty-colored pustule the size and shape of a pencil eraser has sprouted from his hand. He pulls it off. It bleeds. He looks up into Priscilla’s eyes, “I did this for you.”

  “It’s over, Kurt. Get out of my car.”

  Sophie leans back on the table. A tube exhales clear fluid onto her belly. A white plastic wand makes slow sensuous circles. Everyone in the room stares at a black-and-white screen. The technician grins and says, “It’s a boy!”

  “No, it’s a girl,” Sophie says.

  The Jovi points at the monitor and says, “Look at that, he’s right. We’re having a little dude.” He leans in to kiss her tummy, and she pushes him back.

  “Phoenix told me it’s a girl. I know it’s a girl.”

  “Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. I don’t want to have a boy.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Sophie sits for a minute. She stares intensely at her stomach. “I gave up so much. We’re having a girl. I am going to make sure of it.”

  Sophie goes to see Phoenix, taking a lock of the Jovi’s niece’s hair.

  Under a full moon that illuminates the burial mounds at Presidio Park, while the highways hiss in the distance, Summer, Phoenix, and Sophie dance around a fire, say words backwards and eat soft-boiled quail eggs—spells specifically designed by Phoenix to turn the baby boy into a baby girl.

  Afterwards, Sophie and Summer drop Phoenix off at her house in Del Mar. Summer comes out of the house with a rectangular bag with four wheels and a leash. She loads it in the back of the Jeep.

  “Thanks for taking me to the airport.”

  “Oh it’s nothing. I know what that flight to Japan is like, and you’ve got to fly to LAX first.”

  As the Jeep starts to move down the quiet street, Summer asks Sophie, “Why do we like them?”

  “Guys in bands?” Sophie asks.

  “Yeah.” Summer laughs.

  “‘Cuz they’re up there. And they’re trying to do something beautiful. It’s like they’re in touch with their feminine side.”

  “Kurt was certainly trying to touch my feminine side, too.”

  Sophie giggles. “You like him, don’t you.”

  “Nah. It’s just for fun.”

  “You should watch out. He’s got the murderer’s thumb, your mom told me.”

  “He’s not going to kill anyone.”

  “Really? Your mom said it. The White Witch of Del Mar. She’s been right about everything else. She talks to the dead.”

  Summer grimaces. “That’s kind of what I need to tell you. You’re super nice. I love hanging out with you. And you bought me these and they are awesome, but I just think there’s something you should know…”

  Sophie’s slightly sleepy eyes get angry. “What? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “I don’t want you to put too much faith in my mom or that book.”

  “Is that it? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  “She asked me about your life, she asked me about you, before your first consultation.”

  “So?”

  “I told her about your friend. The makeup artist…”

  Sophie pulls the Jeep over, in front of the freeway. “Oh my God— Why would you do that?”

  “I didn’t know how far it would go—”

  “But it worked! I did the spell and the Jovi was right there.” Sophie grips the wheel of her Jeep, and her face is instantly hot and wet. Her nose runs. “He’s my soul mate.”

  “Yeah, he is. Sophie, I just want you to know that you don’t need that book to get what you want.”

 
; “I thought I had powers.”

  “Sophie, you do. Your life is charmed, but you did that.”

  “No, it’s not charmed. You don’t know.”

  “You don’t need my mom or any—”

  “I know that!”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I thought I had an angel. I thought Randy George came back for me…”

  Summer looks out the opaque plastic window. “If he could, he would, Sophie. Love is real.”

  Thunderstik is out at the Vine Church. Eric stands in the urinal next to Sven and lets out a loud groan. Sven laughs.

  “Dude, don’t laugh, it hurts when I pee.”

  Sven claps his hands. “Clap on! Clap off! Clap on, clap off!”

  “Only sailors get the clap.”

  “Sailors and pirates. You best be seeing a doctor, matey.”

  The two of them walk back into the daycare room with green elephants and purple giraffes painted on the walls. Kurt is sitting in a miniature plastic chair. “When are these people going to stop praying! I have a physical need to play some music!”

  “Do they have any more of those chips?” EJ asks.

  Eric opens the cupboard and throws him a can of Pringles.

  The Jovi walks in, late as always. “I just talked to Felder. We’re off DCA. Stein did it yesterday. He called and asked. They said fine, sent him a fax.”

  The can exhales as EJ pops the top.

  “It’s over,” Eric says.

  “It’s not over,” Sven says, “the disappointment will last for years.”

  “NOTHING’S OVER!” Kurt yells. “IT’S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN!”

  “I just meant the DCA thing. It’s on to the next deal, right? Felder knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t fuck us just to fuck us,” Eric says.

  “IT JUST MEANS WE NEED TO PRACTICE EVERY NIGHT UNTIL WE’RE SIGNED AGAIN! I WISH THEY’D STOP FUCKING PRAYING IN THERE. IT DOESN’T WORK! PRAYING DOESN’T WORK! GOD DIDN’T FIX MY JAW!” Kurt presses his fingers into his jaw, arches his back, and howls at the acoustic tiles in the ceiling. “THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES THE PAIN GO AWAY IS MY MUSIC! I HAVE A PHYSICAL NEED TO PLAY! RESPECT THAT!”

  Thunderstik waits silently for the last stragglers to stop praying and leave the warehouse. As Thunderstik assembles on the stage, Sven says, “Hey. You guys, Eric’s got the clap.”

  “I do not.”

  “Yes!” The Jovi walks over, shakes Eric’s hand, and hugs him. “Yes, my brother, now my work is complete. The student is now the master.”

  “It’s not the clap. It’s probably like a urinary-tract thing or something. What do I do?”

  Kurt slings his Telecaster over his shoulder and picks some chords. “I just tell the doctor I got a cold and need some antibiotics. That works.”

  “I drink cranberry juice—prevents that shit from even starting,” Sven adds.

  “I just call my brothers,” the Jovi says. “They have some pill that’s like a tactical nuke. You pop one, it goes down in your GI tract and greases the whole fucking village, burns it to the ground.”

  The four look over at EJ. “What do you do?”

  “He just watches the Playboy Channel and spanks his own shit,” Sven says.

  “Shut up, Sven! I get more pussy than you even know.”

  “But who, my dear, gave you the fucking clap?” the Jovi asks. “Not Summer. Not with toes like that. Where else you been putting that thing?”

  “You fucked Summer?” The veins in Kurt’s neck start to fill with blood.

  “No, dude. I’m just fucking around. He didn’t fuck Summer.”

  “You fucked Summer?” Kurt sets his guitar down. He squares his shoulders.

  Eric moves behind a road case.

  “Well? Did ya?” Kurt’s eyes sink to blackness.

  “Nah, man,” Eric answers sheepishly. Kurt nods and turns away. “We just fooled around.”

  Kurt spins around, grabs Eric’s leather jacket, and heaves him off the blue-carpeted stage down into the folding chairs. He lands with a squirming crash. Kurt jumps into the chairs, picks one up by the legs, lifts it above Eric’s head. Eric assumes this is his end. But EJ, the Jovi, and Sven all fall on Kurt at the same time. Kurt leaps up from the pile onto the stage, shaking himself like a wet dog. “You have a chick you don’t even deserve—and you go after Summer? What the fuck is going on in this band? Everybody’s fucking everybody else’s chick. This shit’s got to end. I’m fucking serious. This is the whole reason why the devil is fucking with my jaw and the band—because we let him.” He points his finger at Eric. “You fucking stay away from her.”

  “I don’t see what difference it is to you—you’re married.”

  “MY WIFE LEFT ME! I TRIED TO BE A GOOD HUSBAND AND NOW SHE’S GONE!”

  “God. I’m sorry,” the Jovi says.

  “Your wife left you?” EJ asks. “Again?”

  “Yeah. Again.”

  “Don’t worry, Kurt,” EJ says. “She’ll come back.”

  “Of course she’ll come back, BUT WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO UNTIL SHE DOES?”

  “Play music.”

  “Good. Let’s get serious about music. We need a record deal here.” Kurt plugs his guitar in, chunks out a vicious power chord, and yells at the crucifix hanging above the stage. “LISTEN TO ME!”

  When the Jovi gets home, there is a brand-new Ford F-150 pickup sitting in the driveway.

  Sophie is sitting with her father at the kitchen table with a stack of official-looking documents in front of her. Her checkbook is in her hand. Sophie looks at the Jovi with cold disdain.

  “Ooooh! Look what the cat dragged in!” Jean screeches.

  “Hi, Mom.” The Jovi hugs her.

  “Where in the world have you been? It’s almost midnight.”

  “Practicing.”

  “You’ve got a little baby on the way. You can’t be coming home at midnight when you’re a papa. Right, Victor?”

  “Right, honey.”

  “What’s going on here?” the Jovi asks.

  “Just a little visit,” Jean says.

  “What’s all that?” He points at Sophie, who is reading with her head down, her elbows on the table, and a handful of hair in her hand.

  “We’re in business together. You’ve heard of father-and-son businesses. This is a father-and-daughter business,” Victor says. “We’re developers.”

  “Right.”

  “We’ve been talking,” Jean adds. “And, really, this little hiatus is fine, but Sophie’s got to get back to work. You don’t have a problem with that, do you? You’re not one of those husbands? The barefoot-and-pregnant kind? Are you?”

  “Yeah, of course. She should do whatever she wants. I got no problem with that.”

  “And what about you? Where do you see this rock–and-roll thing going?” Jean asks.

  The Jovi laughs. “Funny you should ask. We just heard tonight that we’re off DCA.”

  Sophie looks up from her checkbook. “You’re what?”

  “Felder asked if we could get out of our contract. They said fine. It’s done.”

  “I guess I do need to work.”

  “It’s only temporary. He’s gonna get us a deal with Polygram any day now. Remember that guy—Weiner?”

  “Well, that settles it,” Jean says. “You’ll be a stay-at-home dad. Sophie will be the breadwinner.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What about my band?”

  “You can play with your friends whenever you want. Sophie’s only modeling another two or three years, and then it’s on to bigger and better things—she’s going to be an actress. She’s friends with Darren Getty.”

  “I mean, we can both do what we want, you know.”

  “Let’s get real here, shall we?” Jean pinches the Jovi’s cheek. “How much money has this band made you?”

  “I don’t know. The lawsuit and managers take their chunk, and we haven’t toured yet, it was just an advance…”

  “Don’t be shy. It’s al
l family here. How much?”

  “I made forty-three thousand dollars last year.”

  “Sophie can make that in three days during the shows or for three hours in an ad campaign. Do you see my point?”

  “What do you want to do, Sophie?”

  “I just want to go to sleep. I’m really tired. Dad, I signed all of these. Can I please go to bed now?”

  “Of course, sweet Sophie.” Victor picks up the papers and kisses her forehead, then he holds up the check. “Don’t worry, sweet Sophie, this will be the last one.”

  Jean hugs the Jovi and kisses him on the cheek. “You need to be supportive of your wife right now. This is a hard time for her. She’s been working nonstop since she was fourteen. I don’t think she knows what to do with herself.”

  “I know.”

  “Think about what I said. You’re such a sweet boy. You’ll do the right thing.”

  Sophie and the Jovi get in bed. He starts kissing her neck. He runs his hand up her leg.

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “You want me to rub your feet?

  “No.”

  “Your back?”

  “No.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “No.”

  “C’mon, babe. I just… Why is Darren Getty in your book?”

  She shakes her head at the Jovi. “Forget that stupid book. It doesn’t work. I’m the only thing that works around here. And you made me pregnant.”

  “No we all… We all do the best—”

  “Not my dad! He’s so stupid. He’s been building houses in the desert, and no one wants to buy them.” She tries to laugh. “I don’t know why. They’re perfectly good houses—nicer than where I grew up. But no one wants them. I told him he must be doing something wrong, and he said no, that it was just a buyer’s market right now and sure to turn around, and something about the fourth quarter and basketball…”

  The Jovi hugs her. “Baby, baby, you’re so sweet. Don’t worry about Victor. He’s a big, tough guy. He’ll be just fine.

  “I’m not worried about him!”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “It’s my money. He’s lost all of my money.”

  “No, baby, we got this house and I can play music and you can work. We’re going to be fine.”