by G S Oldman
~ ~ ~
Hours, miles, detours down unlit streets later, the infantry march ended-a blank coma of sleep walk, setting a pace and not faltering through the unheard impacts of explosions all around her, ahead of her. On the front porch of base camp she saw the van sitting darkly in the driveway. June stood before the door and listened to the silence of the neighborhood, the betrayals of crickets, then she turned the doorknob. Unlocked. Inside, all was quiet. Dropping onto the couch, a voice from the back of the house said, "Hello?"
"Mmhmm."
"June? Is that you?"
"Mmhmm."
Stirring from the hallway, Doug appeared, barefoot and fatigued. "The band brought the gear back and grabbed a cab; they're out getting drunk somewhere. I know they'll be glad to see you. You OK?"
"I guess."
"Looks like you guys'll have a helluva story to tell when you get home."
"Who knows." June stood up and, arms folded, walked past her host to the bathroom. Returning to the couch she said, "We lost our showcase."
"So I heard. Trust me, you'll get over it. I know that Loomis character. He's gonna hear from me." He sat at the opposite end of the couch. "Y'know, Dedra got a black eye tonight."
"Huh?"
"Yep, you touched off a bit of a melee there."
"Omigod! Is she OK?"
"I'd say so." He laughed, shaking his head. "She's rather proud of herself, actually."
"What happened?"
"Well, it would be better to let them tell you. But-this is so great-she came back with a big Maglite." He laughed again. "A 'Texas souvenir' is what she called it."
"Noooooooo?you're kidding."
"Nope. And that's all I'm gonna say."
"Wow. That girl amazes me sometimes."
"Yep." He watched her bask in the glow for a minute, then rose. "Listen, June, I've hardly slept the past coupla days. Thanks to you guys. Guess I'm kinda wound up about some things. Gonna try to read myself to sleep. But if you're in the mood?or feel the need to talk about things, come on back and disturb me. OK?"
"Sure. Thanks."
Leaning back, staring at the dim ceiling, she was at a loss to make sense of the night. It would take her bandmates for that. There was nothing to do other than admit she wanted to take him up on his offer. Five minutes later, she rapped lightly on the bedroom door.
"I really don't know what to think about tonight," she said, sitting on the floor. By the end of the tale she was reclining next to him on the bed; he was under the covers, she atop them. They had veered into a conversation about life, non-life, the usual, the unusual. At a lull, he matter-of-factly said, "I think Angela and I are breaking up."
"Awwwww, really?"
"Think we've been breaking up since we first got together."
"Ouch."
"How about you?"
"Oh, geeezzz." She gave a deep breath. "I really got nothing going on these days. A guy I was seeing just before hitting the road but it's really nothing."
"You were married, right?"
"Yeah, but let's not talk about that. Not tonight, anyway."
"Sorry. Just curious."
"And you?"
"Naaah. Almost. Once. But it ain't happened yet."
"Mmmm."
At the plateau, the nervous mezzanine of discourse-"Oh boy." They both said it. In unison. Then an acknowledging eye contact.
"Stop it. Yer scaring me," she said.
"Hey, that's my line." He excused himself to the bathroom.
Alone in his room, she fondled his pillow. "What the hell am I doing here?"
He returned, sat at the foot of the bed, scratched his head and measured his words. "Uh. Look, June?I gotta level with you. I know we're really just ships passing in the proverbial night but?I've taken quite a liking to you. There, I said it."
"Ooooh, shit. I want you too?I mean, I?I?think I feel the same way. Oooh, holy fucking crap."
"Uh, June?" He hid his face in his hands and laughed. "You had to say that, didn't you."
"No, I guess I did." She felt sick, certain that her face was red, and that crawling under the bed to hide was not an option.
"All right, I guess we can't take any of this back."
"No, I guess not."
"But?you're on my bed and I wanna get some goddam sleep and I don't wanna sleep in my clothes like I did last night. You can do whatever you want; you're more than welcome to stay, but I at least wanna take off my pants and be comfortable."
"Sshhhhould I leave?"
"No! Of course not! Oh, hell." He fell back onto the mattress and held his head. "Dammit, June, it's all your damn fault that Angela wouldn't get off my back last night. You made some kinda impression on her that set her off in a bad way and, goddamit?I'm grateful to you for it. I thought about you the rest of the night." A long ass pause. "There, I said that too."
"If. I. Stay?" A longer ass pause. "Would it be OK if I?took my pants off too?"
"What's wrong? Ya can't give a fella an even break?" When they recovered from laughing, he stood up, she stood up; he unfastened and dropped his pants to the floor; she pulled off her sweatshirt, unlaced sneakers and shed socks, unfastened and dropped her pants to the floor; together, they climbed under the covers. He turned off the lamplight. Without touching, before things got stupid, he said, "Whoa. I gotta put the brakes on for a minute."
"Brakes. Yeah, OK."
"June, I'm not trying to just get in your pants. I really do like you but, gee whiz, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself? Look, I try to be honest with everyone and I'm still in a relationship with Angela. We haven't actually broken up yet. I don't cheat on people and I don't wanna pull you into that kinda mess, y'know?"
"Uh, yeah, maybe you're right."
"I am right, goddamit. But?"
"What?"
"I'd rather not kick you outta bed on her account."
"Is she a violent, vengeful bitch?"
"Nnnnnggggggghhh?That's really not her M.O. No, uh uh."
"The front door's still unlocked, y'know."
"Naaahh, she doesn't care enough to come hunting me down. She ain't an NRA member or anything like that."
"Well, the rest of the band needs a way in."
"They've got a key."
"Oh, yeah. So maybe I should lock it?"
"Forget it. She doesn't wanna have anything to do with me tonight. She'd call first if she wanted to come over."
"Well?"
"Hey, June? It ain't officially over between us, all right? But tonight? I think it's probably as over as it'll ever be. There."
"If you say so. But I'll lock the door anyway."
"Why bother? I mean, c'mon. What's the excitement of jumping into the shark pool if there's no chance you could be eaten?"
"Whoa!"
"But, seriously. No sex tonight, OK? Don't think I'm ready for that yet."
"Uh, OK." What else could she say?
They moved together under the covers and any thoughts of restraint seemed entertaining, and only so. Most forest fires are ignited by accident and great resources are expended in putting them out. Fuel doesn't burn for discussion when it's burning; fuel just burns. It only takes one spark. She was not shy about kissing him or doing anything else but they quickly broke apart when the front door stumbled open. The sound of tipsy Faux Toppans. Hearing the deadbolt latch, they laid giggling for a moment then pulled themselves into an embrace.
Fingertips lightly tapped on the door and a voice slurred, "Doug?"
"Hmmm?"
"Have you seen or heard from June?"
"I'm here, De."
"Oooh. Excuse me!" Feet padded rapidly down the hallway.
He held her for a while, then sat up and wrestled his T-shirt off and over his head, saying, "I gotta get comfortable. Hope you don't mind." She responded by doing the same with her shirt. "Remember, no sex."
The garments sailed across the dark room and they dove back under t
he covers. The windows were open, cool night breezes spilling in. He stroked her back, shoulders and neck for a long time; a kiss here, a kiss there, and gradually fell motionless. Relaxed, June anticipated waking unaccountably naked at some point. She shuddered and whispered, "I absolutely love the way you say goddamit."
No response.
His breath deepened to a light snoring.
She drifted off to the sound.
XXII
"Anyone can have a bad century."
-Jack Brickhouse
When life deals lemons one can only hope the next day's menu will feature lemonade. Emerging from the house and facing them on the front porch, June was greeted by a rousing ovation from her hungover bandmates. Blushing, she plopped into an empty chair. "You guys are such dorks. Somebody get me a goddam cup o joe."
The coffeemaker had been dragged outside, set up on a crate and was happily completing a brew cycle. Bryan put a mug in her hand and poured, Dedra had a stunning black eye, Prez was wearing his old gang bandana, the three of them were passing around a fatty. The sun shone hazily and birds chirped in the warm air. At any moment Mister Rogers and Louis Armstrong were likely to join them and sing a duet of "Wonderful World."
June learned she had taken a swing at Loomis only to snatch his baseball cap and send it sailing. Startled, he lost balance and fell backward as if struck. It was only Bryan's and Prez's interference that saved him from her continuing advance. In a poorly timed assault, one of Loomis's cronies attempted to seize June and he was roughly blocked and sent sprawling by Bryan. Dedra's timing was perfect, however. When Maglite aimed his weapon at Bryan's head it was too late; he missed as the screaming little blonde knocked into him, grabbed the flashlight and applied it squarely to his shinbone. A fleshy hardness smacked her in the face when she turned to run. Tumbling, spinning on her heel, la bateadora swung blindly in the fist's direction and connected. As she fell to the ground, Prez caught her, calling, "?Ol?, la reina de la pi?ata!" and the three desperados fled into the night. The laughing consensus was that the alerted bystanders, witnessing a young woman being punched in the face by an oversized attacker, had impeded any further hostilities, and that Prez's street sensibilities smartly got them out of enemy territory.
CrabAbble guys oozed forth after a while; they had partied as hard as any self-respecting band. Hearing about the incident, they worried over what to expect at their official showcase later that night. Dedra ducked into the house, returned with the Maglite and triumphantly posed it next to her bruised countenance for photos-the New Yellow Rose; no Chicken, no Shit. Gus and Bryan elected to whip up a huge breakfast for everyone and the succulent aroma of kitchen voodoo was probably what roused Doug from his sleep.
In the early afternoon sanity of digestion, the band decided to hit the road back to Seattle that evening. There was no reason to stay any longer, despite the giddy turnabout of last night's debacle. None of them were enthusiastic about another night on the town, or more drinking, or more day shows, or explaining events or misdeeds to anyone. Beyond their showcase, CrabAbble would be trekking eastward to start a legitimate month-long tour. The caravan was done and Faux Toppa's adventure was over.
The only thing June wanted was to stay and have one more night with Doug. It could be the adventure she'd spent her life waiting for, even if he'd have matters to deal with before they could comfortably be together. Like a contentious child, her heart ached to disregard caution and again take the great leap of chance. Adulthood seemed more and more precisely the human condition that deserved to be soundly spanked, and to whose paddle should she hand her ass? The snafu'd adults spent a last intimate bedroom hour, then exchanged phone numbers and addresses and words of ardor and promises to stay in touch. He proposed soon visiting her city, but she would mentally prepare to track the Cubs' progress in the upcoming season.
A couple of phone calls revealed that Friday night's rumble cast the SXSW organization in a bad light, and the elephant was now standing in their offices. Loomis had retained enough sense to wave off the fire marshal and the Song & Dance Syndicate show went off without a hitch. Faux Toppa became the odd band out. CrabAbble and all the others who had "violated the terms" would have no worries the rest of the weekend. Doug was convinced that Loomis would either voluntarily step down from his post or be asked to resign. As always, saving face is a bitch. June hoped her band would change plans and leave the next day but?no. She remained a team player and, just before sundown, she willed herself into the van and departed.