by Staci Hart
Dean threw his hands up again and took another step back. "It's not worth the fight, man."
"Maybe not to you," Elliot growled.
The room grew bright as the warehouse door opened, then slipped back into darkness as it closed with a heavy bang. Two pairs of eyes turned to Dean.
Roe moved to sit down on the ratty couch. “What the fuck, man?” He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his blond hair.
Dean shrugged.
“You do realize that we were supposed to start recording next week? We just got signed, and you have to go do some dumbfuck thing like screwing Jenny? Do you have any idea how far this is going to set us back?” Roe machine-gunned his questions, and Dean waited in silence, not sure whether or not Roe expected an answer.
Kevin shifted, his eyes narrow. “I just quit Taco Town, and if I have to go back to asking people if they want mild or hot sauce and wearing a paper hat, I will make you pay somehow. I don't know how yet, but so help me God, I will do something so disturbing that you'll have nightmares about it for years." Kevin looked back and forth between Roe and Dean. "What are we gonna do now?"
“Now I guess we find a new drummer,” Dean said.
Roe rubbed a hand over his mouth as he looked at Dean, his face haggard. “We? You mean you guess I find a new drummer. You’ve done enough damage. Just go home.”
Dean took a long look at Roe, frustrated and fuming on the couch, then at Kevin, whose arms were folded across his scrawny chest, his cheeks blotchy and red from exertion. Dean turned in silence and slid his sunglasses back on as he walked to the door, not sure what else to do but leave.
The winter sun beat down on Dean’s black leather jacket as he stepped off the curb and into the street, not really feeling much of anything as he walked to the subway. He didn't get it. Sure, he felt bad that he'd caused problems and for upsetting Roe, but Jenny, Elliot … everyone knew. He never hid what or who he was, and the fact that anyone expected differently from him annoyed and frustrated him.
He wished that things in his life were simple and straightforward. That people said what they wanted and didn't put expectations on him that weren't realistic. He'd only had two relationships like that in his life: Roe and Audrey.
The first time Dean ever spoke to Audrey, he was at the record store where he and Roe worked in high school. He was behind the counter with his guitar, playing along with “Trampled Under Foot” as Robert Plant wailed from the speakers. Roe was stocking a box of CDs, but the music was up so loud that they didn’t hear the bell on the door chime as she walked in. Dean looked up all the same.
Her hair was black as ink, her bangs short like Bettie Page, her lips just as red. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
She made her way to the vinyl, and Dean turned his attention back to his strings. She was gorgeous, the girl that all the guys in school wanted to get with, but she was out of their league. She didn’t seem to have any interest in high school guys, or even high school in general. She could usually be found smoking behind the building during lunch, looking bored with her friends in the hallway, or occasionally in class, when she wasn’t ditching.
Audrey had caught his eye more than a few times, and he’d caught her looking, too. He knew the signals … he got them from most of the girls he knew. But with Audrey, something was different. She lacked the desperation that the other girls had, that same desperation that he saw in his mother. Girls fawned over him, though he had no idea why. He never played the game, never gave them any attention, but it never stopped them.
Rand, the owner, came out of the back room with another box full of CDs and dropped it on the counter with a thunk next to Dean’s Converse.
“Hey, Dean-o. Why don’t you help your buddy out and get to stacking.”
“Sure.” Dean set his guitar down and propped the box on his hip as he made his way to the rows of CDs. He set the box down on the ground and started filing.
Audrey moved to the section next to him and picked up a Jessica Simpson CD. “Hey,” she said as she turned to him, “you work here, right?”
“Last I checked.”
“Have you heard this?”
“I have.”
She looked impressed. “And is it any good?”
“No, it’s garbage.”
She laughed, and he reached past her and pulled out Stereolab’s Dots and Loops. “This is what you want.”
Her black eyebrow climbed, and her red lips lifted into a sexy smile. “Oh, is it?”
“It is.”
She glanced down at the case as she took it from him. “Thanks. Dean, right?”
“Yeah. Audrey?”
“That’s me. I’ve seen you around, always with your buddy … no girlfriend?”
“No. No girlfriend.”
“You’re not … gay, are you?”
“No. Why do you ask?” He couldn’t keep himself from smiling, knowing she was uncomfortable, and knowing exactly why she’d asked.
“You realize that just about every girl in school wants in your pants, right?”
He shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
He turned and leaned against the shelf. “Are you one of these interested girls? Just curious.”
“Maybe.” Her eyes twinkled at him.
“I thought you had a boyfriend.”
“It’s different with college guys. They ‘date,’ which means they fuck whoever they want when they’re at school. Why shouldn’t I?”
He laughed. “Straight to the point, huh?”
“I don’t care for games, and you don’t seem like the type to play them.” She tilted her head and inspected him. “You’re not even nervous, are you?”
“Why should I be nervous?”
“Most high school guys practically shit their pants when I talk to them, but if I’m being honest, I’m actually a little intimidated by you, Dean Monroe.” She looked amused and mildly confused.
He looked her over, impressed by her honesty. “You’re different from the other girls.”
“I don’t think you’d still be talking to me if I wasn’t.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“So, can you check me out?” She held up the CD.
“Too late,” he said as he pushed off the shelves and made his way behind the register.
He rang her up and handed her the bag, but before she walked away, she pulled out the receipt and jotted her number on it.
“Call me, okay? Sooner than later,” she said as she handed it to him.
“Count on it.”
She turned and walked away, and Dean watched her hips swing all the way out the door. Roe turned when she passed him, slack-jawed.
“Did Audrey Fucking Winston just give you her number?”
Dean held up the receipt.
Roe rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. How the fuck?”
Dean shrugged. “She just gave it to me.”
“Tell me you’re going to call her.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“What do you think she wants?”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
“You think?” Roe asked.
“What else could she want? You think she wants a boyfriend?”
“No, probably not. What are you gonna do? I mean, you’re a virgin, and she’s … she’s Audrey Winston.”
“I’m pretty sure I can figure it out.”
“Well, no shit. But you’re not going to impress her, since your skills in the bedroom are a grand total of zero. How are you not freaking out?”
Roe was giving him that look again, the one that reminded him that he didn’t feel what other people did, that he was somehow not normal.
“I don’t know. I’m just not worried about it.”
Roe shook his head. “You’re superhuman,” he said as he made his way back to his box of inventory.
He looked down at Audrey’s number again and sm
iled, curious about her, and felt a little flutter of excitement in his chest at the prospect of having her.
Dean called her the next night after he got off work and agreed to meet her at her place after her mom left to work the night shift.
She opened the door with a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Come on in.”
He followed her into the living room, and she motioned to the couch.
“Want a drink?”
“Sure.”
“Whiskey okay?”
“All right.”
She poured him a whiskey and Coke and sat down next to him. He took a sip and tried not to cough as it burned its way through his chest.
Audrey watched him with curious eyes. “Can I ask you something, Dean?”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
He shook his head. “I’m not exactly boyfriend material.”
She rested her elbow on the back of the couch. “No? Is there anything I should know?”
Dean shifted in his seat. “I just can’t be what they want. I can’t give them what they need from me.”
“Well, I’m going to make this easy for you. I don’t require very much from you, partly because I need you to not require much from me. Let’s keep this simple. I won’t ask anything of you past whatever we have, whenever we have it. Fuck who you want, and I’ll do the same. We won’t owe each other, no obligation, no strings. The minute you put strings on me, I’m out.”
Dean nodded, relieved. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the only guy I know who I think can handle me, and I think I might be the only one who can handle you.” She took the drink from his hand and set it on the coffee table, then slipped a hand inside his jacket. Her lips were inches from his neck, and his nerves fired with anticipation. “No girlfriends, so I’m assuming you’ve never …”
He turned and looked in her eyes as he gave a slight shake of his head. She smiled, and his heart raced.
“Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” he whispered and slipped a hand into her hair to pull her to him. Their lips met in a way that was natural and easy as they gave each other what they wanted, what they needed. The comfort of touch.
It went on that way for months, until she left for college. They went on a few dates to a couple of shows, and she’d visit him at the record store every once in a while, but they kept their promise to each other, which wasn’t hard. They were both broken, unable to give their hearts away, but they needed each other.
Dean realized pretty soon after he started seeing Audrey that sex healed him, somehow. He could keep everything else he felt, all of his emotions packed down inside, but that release was a small joy, something that made him feel alive. The contact, the touch, was a drug after a life without affection.
He supposed it was as close as he ever came to a girlfriend, even though they were never exclusive. She encouraged him to find other girls, he assumed to keep him at arm’s length, to try to stop him from falling for her. There was no danger of that, though. He was too damaged to care about anyone, not even himself.
The challenge, she told him, would be that the girls would always want more. He should always be honest with them, just as she’d been with him, so that they knew. They wouldn’t listen, she said, but he should tell them all the same, and he always did. She was right. None of them ever believed him, but he released himself of responsibility because they always knew, even though they thought they would be different, that they could change him.
But he was fucked up beyond repair. There was no changing that.
Roe’s hands clenched in his jacket pockets as he stomped up the stairs to Dean’s apartment, ready for a fight.
Fucking Dean.
It was always the same shit. Dean couldn’t say no, not even when it was important, which was part of the reason that Roe hadn’t had many girlfriends. Dean possessed some strange magic that made girls lose their minds, and Roe didn’t know if any of them were immune to his charms. He didn’t want to test the theory, not with someone he cared about.
Roe didn’t know why he expected Dean to keep his shit together. Their career was on the line, and Dean was as unapologetic as ever. Roe’s temper flared at the thought that Dean wasn’t affected by what happened, especially after he and Kevin spent the afternoon in a scramble to figure out how to fix Dean’s mess.
Roe and Dean had gone to a show the week before, and the opener for the band they wanted to see was some crappy punk band with a ratty lead singer, but their drummer was phenomenal. After some light Googling and a few phone calls, he and Kevin had gotten a hold of the guy, who happily accepted their offer. He was even better than Elliot, and Roe was thankful not only to have solved the problem, but to have upgraded their talent in the process.
That fact didn’t stop him from being supremely pissed at Dean.
He made it to Dean’s door and walked in without knocking.
Dean sat in an armchair by the window with his guitar in his lap. His black hair fell in his face when he glanced up at Roe in the doorway, then back to his guitar.
“Come on in.”
“What the hell, Dean. I thought we had a deal.” He slammed the door.
Dean put his guitar down and stood, grabbing a whiskey bottle from the shelf as he walked toward the kitchen, his bare feet padding on the hard wood. “You need one of these.” He held the bottle up in display as he reached for a glass out of the cupboard.
He thinks he’s so fucking smooth. “There was a rule in place, or did you forget? No hooking up with bandmate’s girlfriends. How many times is this now? Six? Eleven? I’ve lost count.” Roe narrowed his eyes.
“Four.”
“Your moral compass is way the fuck out of whack, do you even realize that?”
Dean’s face was blank. “Listen, I didn’t come on to her. She showed up here naked and half drunk, and if it hadn’t been me, it would have been somebody else. At least Elliot got away from her when he had the chance.”
“Can’t you say no, man?”
“Why would I say no?” Dean’s face quirked in confusion, and Roe’s fury bubbled over.
“Jesus, Dean. I don’t know, maybe for Elliot’s sake? Do you have empathy for anyone? It’s like you’re dead inside.”
“Fuck you, Roe.”
“No, really. You could have screwed us over. You need to get your shit together, dude, or we’re all in trouble.” Dean extended the glass of whiskey to Roe. “No, thanks. I think I’ve had enough.”
Roe turned to leave. “By the way, I found a drummer. Don’t fuck his girlfriend,” he said as he slammed the door behind him.
That afternoon, Lex sat curled up on the couch with a book when Travis burst through the front door. He immediately started talking a million miles a minute with his face lit up and blue eyes twinkling. She smiled at him, laughing as she laid her book down.
“Whoa there, cowboy. A little fast—slow it down and give it to me again.”
“Sorry,” he laughed. “I was saying, you know that band, Paper Fools? Remember? I played that song by them that was all, buh-nuh nuh-nuh buh-waa-waa, right?”
She was stumped. “Uh, right?”
“So, I got a call from Roe, their bass player, today. I guess their drummer left the band this morning, and they’re looking to fill his spot. Roe saw me play and wants me. Lex, this is huge. They just got signed, which means that I’m gonna play on a fucking album.”
“Oh, my god!” She hopped up and reached to wrap her arms around his neck. He spun her around in the living room, and she squealed before he set her down and pressed his lips to hers.
“I told Spike,” he said with a grin.
“How’d he take it?”
“Not well. He had some choice words about having ‘his’ drummer stolen, and I’m half expecting him to show up at a gig and try to pick a fight.”
“He would be that dumb.”
“Well, we are ta
lking about Spike.” Travis pecked her on the cheek, then winked before he strutted into their bedroom to go bang on his electronic drums.
Lex was thankful for his headphones as she made her way into the kitchen to make some tea. She pulled down her old, red teapot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. While she waited for the water to boil, she turned and leaned on the doorframe to watch Travis play. He spun his sticks in the air as he whaled on the rubberized drum pads, and she bit her lip.
He was so hot when he was in drummer mode.
Travis hated to be confined while he went beat-ninja on his set, and she smiled as her eyes roamed across his naked chest. Sweat glistened on his broad, muscular shoulders, and his tan skin gleamed from the light shining in through the window. His faced scrunched in concentration, and small strands of his honey colored hair stuck to his forehead.
On paper, he was the perfect guy. He was kind and loving. Attentive and thoughtful. He was her best friend, besides Kara. She could see being with him for a long time, maybe forever, but she could see walking away too. It was complacence, she supposed, and wondered if that was all she could hope for out of life. Was there more to love? Would her heart ever open up enough to really let someone in, to feel any more than she did with Travis? She found the whole situation extremely confusing.
Lex’s phone rang from the table, and Kara’s face was on the screen making a kissey face.
“Hey,” Lex answered.
“Yo,” Kara said. “You owe me some dirt. I’m downstairs, so you better be here.”
“Yup. Want some tea?”
“Mmm, that sounds good. It’s freezing outside. Be right up.”
Travis walked in, shirtless and sweaty, and stretched his arms over his head, hooking his fingers on the door frame. His jeans hung low on the eye-popping ‘v’ his hips made as he leaned forward.
Her cheeks flushed as she poured hot water into two mugs.
“Roe texted me. We’re going to go get my gear from the garage.”