by A.R. Rivera
38
-Avery
Angel asked me to leave her alone. Not an unusual request for most people, but from her it was alarming.
I asked her what was wrong and she said, "I'm fine."
A lie.
She must have told Jake she didn't want to marry him. And because he's a controlling, manipulative dick, he was probably mad. He looked mad when he left. I wondered what he'd said, because Angel looked devastated. But she wouldn't talk to me, so I walked away, too.
Not long after giving Angel the water bottle I snaked from one of the back rooms, Analog did their sound check. Angel stayed at that back table where I left her, staring at the floor. I thought she'd be all over sound check, considering that girl was right next to Jake. The two talked a few times. I kept my ears up and spied every exchange. There didn't seem to be anything between them. Every time the girl stepped in to talk to him, he stepped back. Jake looked to Angel several times-checking for her reaction, I guessed. His face kept shifting between irritation and concern-but they didn't communicate.
After, Jake reappeared with the rest of the band back in the VIP lounge. It was a roped off section right behind the regular bar. Not just anyone was allowed to use the pool table or sit on one of the scruffy, puffy chairs-or heaven forbid-the long leather couches.
Max was there, sitting beside Andrew. They looked too cool with their I-just-rolled-out-of-bed hair styles and I'm-too-hip-to-wash-my-clothes-or-use-an-ashtray attitudes.
Jake was seated beside his band mates at the end of the couch, directly across from a man in a plaid shirt and bulky framed eyeglasses. There was a tripod beside him. The camera on it was being run by another guy in a Jack Daniels tee and nasty jeans. Jake and Plaid Shirt shook hands, and suddenly everyone sat up a little straighter.
Angel came up beside me, wrapping an arm over my shoulder. Her eyes cast longingly on Jake. "It's the last interview."
"I think they started, already." I pressed my shoulder against Angels'. "If you want to watch you better go, or you'll miss it. I'm getting a drink."
Angels' eyes were soft, but she had one hand pressed against the back of her neck under her hair. Her posture was sort of hunched, her arms set tightly against her sides like she wanted to disappear from the room.
"You alright?"
"It's all so exciting." She sounded like she was trying not to fall asleep.
"Are you getting another migraine?"
Angel didn't shake her head, but set a hand on her cheek and rested against it. "I'm fine, and I don't want to miss this."
Angel should have been much more than fine. She should have been dancing on a glory cloud. My irritation with Jake was getting stronger by the second.
"Playing Doctor is about to go on, so the interview will be short." Angel practically whispered, then headed over towards the rope at the edge of the lounge.
I snatched an empty stool at the end of the bar, searching the printed t-shirts of patrons milling around the place. There were several people wearing Analog Controller tees. The bartender looked at my wrists, noticing I had no orange wristband that said my ID had been checked at the door. It meant I was not twenty-one and was not supposed to occupy the space at his bar because he couldn't make money off me.
"I just want water."
He was kind of old with heavy eyelids. "Two dollars."
"It's for me." A girly voice chirped from behind me.
When I looked, it was that wannabe band chick in heavy makeup. She took the last few steps to sidle up on the neighboring stool. She had short, black fingernails, four silver rings on each hand, leather bands on her wrists, and no orange bracelet.
"Don't send minors to the bar for your shit." Heavy Lids pulled a water bottle from somewhere near his knees and set it in front of her.
"And a beer, please."
She got the beer, too.
"Thanks, Bernie."
"Yeah, sure." He wiped his hands and moved down the counter to serve someone else.
I still had no water. Until Band Chick slid her bottle over to me.
"It's the planets' most plentiful resource and he's charging." She had a sarcastic tone, but it was subtle.
"Thanks."
"I mean, global warming. The ice caps are melting. The planets drenched in the shit. We should be charging to breathe."
I shook my head, remembering that Jake said the girl was from San Diego.
"I saw you with Jake earlier. Are you two friends?"
Maybe it was an innocent question, but there was a gleam in her eye that I didn't like. So, I changed the subject, because screw her. "I saw you playing earlier." I shifted my gaze and nodded at the band just getting up from the sofa. "Are you in the band?"
"Yeah. Well, not officially, but yeah. I'm playing tonight," she pointed across the bar at Jake, "as you know, and he is singing."
"I'm Avery."
"Angelica," she tipped her head and I had to do a double-take when I saw the strange color of her eyes.
"Are you wearing contacts?" I asked, scooting closer. She could not possibly have purple eyes.
"No." Her forehead creased.
"But your eyes are purple."
"Oh, no, they're not. But yeah," She shook her head and pointed to the purple streaks that framed her face. "They're really light blue and catch the color I'm wearing." She shrugged. "I mostly wear black, though, so I keep the streaks in my hair."
I nodded as if this weren't some freakish anomaly.
"Nice talking to you, Avery." She took her beer, her freaky eyes, and her perfect figure into the VIP lounge, following after her soon-to-be band mates as they headed to places no one else could go.
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