Pop Life

by Ryan Loveless

  I shrugged, which was difficult given my position. "You're busy helping Paeder cheat on Keelin. I think your plate is full."

  He'd gotten close enough to brush my cheek with his stubble, but he pulled back. "You think I should be exclusive with the guy who's cheating on his wife, boyfriend, and me?"

  "You think Paeder is cheating on you?" The idea shocked me into forgetting that I was trying to get intimate with the door handle, and I slid back into the seat.

  "He's known me longer than he's known his wife," Jeff said. He looked at me as if I should agree with him. I stared at him, pretty sure that he could see how flabbergasted I was.

  "All right. How about a kiss? Just one, just to see, and then I'll leave you alone."

  "Just to see what?" I inched towards the door again. I glanced at the cabbie, who was talking on his phone, ignoring us.

  "Why, to see if you're my true love, of course." Jeff grinned. "Like in the movies." He scooted closer to me. "Please, just one kiss? It's just that you're so pretty." His eyelashes brushed my cheek. I had my head against the window as I tried to figure out where to push in order to back him off me. "Has anyone told you that? I bet someone has."

  Only Jamie. Before that, no one.

  Jeff pulled back and hovered, watching. His eyes darted over my face, searching for something, and returned to my eyes. "Say yes," he said softly.

  I held onto his gaze for another minute. He didn't move, didn't try to touch. There was something about him that was irresistible, something I wanted to have. It seemed dangerous and not like safety-first me. Maybe this was why Jamie had tried to warn me away.

  But, if Jamie had experienced it, then maybe I should too… Jeff started to lean closer, as if he were anticipating my answer. "Yes," I said.

  I closed my eyes as Jeff's hot breath parted my lips. Jeff kissed me. I shuddered as an uncommon, but not uncomfortable, chill cascaded down my spine. Jeff's stubble scratched my chin. Two years, three months, and thirteen days had passed since Jamie's drunken kiss. I had replayed the moment in my head numerous times since then. I had imagined other men kissing me. Usually these were men I already knew, boys who had chased me on the playground when I was eight or nine and who I'd grown up with. Sometimes it was Michael, sometimes Jamie, only not drunk, and therefore a different person. Sometimes it was a stranger—someone sitting across from me in a library or on a bus. I never imagined Jeff. Not once. But he was here now and he was—it was obvious why he had the reputation that he did. I found myself kissing him back and not knowing why, except that his tongue felt good as it urged its way inside my mouth. I wanted to let it in.

  Then he pushed forward, too hard, as his knee slid between my thighs right over my cock, making me gasp in pain. "Don't. Hurts." I turned my mouth away from his so I could speak.

  "Sorry," he said. I had moved my hands to his chest to try to push him off, and he squeezed my wrists and rocked against me, pushing me deeper into the seat, which adjusted us both so that he wasn't pushing so much on my cock. It wasn't quite hard, but that was definitely in its immediate future. I was starting to feel uncomfortable. The idea of kissing Jeff had been uncomfortable before, but now I couldn't ignore that it was wrong as well. What the hell kind of person was I, doing this? It didn't make me feel any better to have a touch of insight into what Paeder saw in him. I couldn't exactly go tell Keelin that. And as for the relationship Jeff had with Jamie… I didn't even want to think about what that might entail. Although I'd agreed to the kiss partly to find out more Jamie's attraction to him, now I wished that I didn't know. There was no way I could compete with Jeff. Between him and Jamie, I imagined that the combined powers of their kissing prowess could topple kingdoms.

  Jeff was still holding my wrists, so I pulled my elbows between our chests and pushed. He pulled away, thankfully getting the hint.

  The cabbie banged on the glass. "You're here," he said.

  Jeff crawled off me. "Sorry, Andrew. I guess I got a little carried away. You don't blame me do you?"

  I didn't understand what he meant. Did he think I thought I was a great kisser? He needed that long to figure out whether we were "meant to be?" He had been full of shit about that and was enjoying his little game and thought I was too? I paid the driver with shaking hands and stumbled out of the cab. Jeff appeared beside me, looking unfazed. If I had any faith in my strength, I would have punched the grin off his face. Kissing someone like that might have been an everyday occurrence for him, but it wasn't for me.

  The cab sped off, leaving us on the sidewalk outside the Hammerstein.

  "You're not my prince. Sorry to disappoint you," I said. My wrists hurt where he had grabbed them.

  "At least tell me I'm a good kisser," Jeff said.

  "You know you are," I tried to ignore the feeling that I'd just become another notch on his bedpost, albeit a half-notch. "You owe me seven dollars." I walked past him into the building. He slapped my back as I went by.

  "I knew it," he said. "You're dying for another one, aren't you?"

  I headed for the box office.

  "Don't worry, I promise I'll keep my hands to myself for the rest of the night." He followed me into the building's foyer, laughing. I got our tickets and handed one to him, trying not to notice how I felt it in my cock when his fingers brushed my hand.

  As soon as we entered the darkened auditorium, the smell hit me. Spilled beer, discount perfume and hairspray, and here and there a whiff of body odor. We were late. Jamie was onstage dancing, arms flailing, feet bouncing, through the instrumental section of his latest single. Jeff clutched my wrist and dragged me around the side, flashing a card at security until we were at the front. A guard opened the barricade for us just left of center. I rubbed my aching wrist. We must have been close enough for Jamie to spot us with the lights in his face because he waved. I waved back. I hoped that would be the end of any acknowledgement he made towards us. If I wanted to be the focus of two thousand people's attention, I wouldn't sell my songs to other people. I would sing them myself. Jamie looked like he was going to speak when the entire tightly packed crowd, one section after another, tilted like a set of dominoes. I was pushed onto a teenage girl. In an instant, the shift came back and everyone was upright again. When I could see the stage again, Jamie was on the opposite side. I turned to apologize to the girl I fell on and she mouthed an acknowledgment.

  Jeff and I were separated in the shift. I was caught in the flow of bodies pressed against me, pushing me up and down, forcing me to jump with them. The girl I'd fallen on was wedged under my right arm. She smelled like expensively subtle perfume, and I breathed her in with each movement. Sometimes she'd turn, laughing, and I'd smile at her as she sang along with Jamie. Jamie never spoke to me, but when he sang one of the songs Michael and I had written, he'd point or wink. I saw Jeff surrounded by girls, his arms around the ones on either side of him, and two other girls in front and behind him.

  Jamie segued into "Man Aflame", a sexually ambiguous song about a guy who discovers his girlfriend's unmentionables are quite comfortable. He finished the song with flair, leaping from the platform where Rhona's drum kit was sitting and causing it to shake while the band vamped on and on, and he ran from one end of the stage to the other, riling up the crowd, arms extended, and egging them on with a cocky grin. I screamed along with the other fans. Jamie smiled right at me when he took his bow. I grinned at him, and the revelation hit me—here was something I had not seen all week: Jamie… happy. I wanted to jump onstage with him, never mind about my fear of attention, and hug him.

  He came back out a minute later in a new shirt and signaled the band. The opening strings of "Forgetful" started. My song. Our song. He sang the first line and the second. Then he stopped. The band kept playing. Jamie raised both hands, palms up, and suddenly the song flooded from the balconies and the back of the auditorium, from the fans to the left and right of me. When the crowd had taken over the singing, Jamie lowered his arms and watched me. He smiled, the most honest
smile I had ever seen. We were the only two people in the room. Amidst the thundering harmony of two thousand voices, his was the only face I could see. I stood there, tears rolling down my cheeks, because nothing in the world could ever compare to this. Jamie sang with them on the final verse. He touched the outstretched hands lining the edge of the stage.

  "Are you okay?" The girl beside me handed me a tissue.

  "Yes," I said. "Yes." To reassure myself, I said it a third time. "Yes."

  Jamie bowed again. He and his band left the stage. I thanked the girl for her tissue.

  "It's all right. I've cried over that song a few times myself," she said.

  "Actually, it's—" I was about to tell her that the sing-a-long had been for me, but Jeff came up and grabbed me. "Let's go," he said. I thanked the girl again and followed him.

  We found Jamie in his dressing room pulling his shirt over his head.

  "Thanks for coming. I'm sorry I made you cry," Jamie said.

  "Sure you are," I said.

  "You were crying?" Jeff asked. "You're precious, Andrew."

  "It was exciting is all." I already knew how precious he thought I was.

  "Am I done?" Jamie asked his row of outfits. "I'm beat." I thought it was odd that Jamie was speaking to a clothing rack, but odder still when the rack answered him.

  "All done," it said in a familiar feminine voice. Then, it shifted and Audrey emerged from the hanging clothes to hand him a gray sweatshirt. "You've got a free day tomorrow until you leave. Are you taking the car back?"

  Jamie tugged the sweatshirt over his head. His name was stenciled across the chest. "Yeah."

  "Bob has the rear exit cleared for you," Audrey said. I helped her free herself from the wardrobe. "Cheers, Andrew. Did you enjoy the show?"

  "Yes, very much," I said.

  "I'm glad you got to come," Jamie said. He put his arm around me and started towards the door. It took all the effort I had not to grab his hand. I was eager to get back to the hotel with him. We could have the night in my room. I'd order in, and he could fall asleep in my bed after an hour or so. Neither of us would say anything about it. We would just know that it was all right to skip the part where he had a nightmare and move directly to the part where we were sleeping together.

  Two of Jeff's girls were hanging around outside. They came over and swooned at Jamie. He kept his arm around me. I wanted to gloat at them. See girls? He's with me. The car came. Bob opened the door and Jeff ushered the girls into the backseat. Wait. How did that happen?

  Do you even know their names? I wanted to ask. Jamie got into the car before me, and one of the girls hopped onto his lap. He shrugged at me as if to say that he couldn't do anything about it. He had an image to maintain. The other sat on Jeff. I huddled quietly against the door, feeling like I'd been smacked. Jamie was going to have a rock star orgy while I spent another night alone. I tried to tell myself it was inevitable because I was, after all, me, but mostly I just hated Jeff for letting the girls into the car. Jeff tickled his girl's ribs. She giggled. I watched Jamie's reflection in the window. The girl on Jamie's lap rubbed his chest and purred, but he moved so she couldn't touch his face. She turned her attention to Jeff. I caught Jamie staring at me and ducked my head.

  When I looked back to the reflection, Jamie was still watching me.

  We reached the hotel and entered through the kitchen. In the hour since the end of the concert, the number of girls milling around the hotel had increased by twenty percent.

  "Did you take out an ad or something?" Bob asked. He ushered us into the service elevator. I crushed into the far corner of the wrought iron box while Jamie lounged against a sidewall with a girl draped against his chest. I couldn't feel like anymore of a third wheel if I tried.

  Jeff winked at me and flicked his tongue against his teeth. He arched his neck as his girl nibbled on his earlobe. "Lower, baby."

  The elevator lurched to a halt. I edged in front of Jamie. "Jamie, can I talk to you?"

  "Sure." Jamie sent his girl ahead with Jeff. We stepped off the elevator. "Are you upset that Jeff didn't get a girl for you?" He patted my shoulder and seemed honestly concerned.

  "Jamie, I really wish you wouldn't go with him. Stay with me," I said. I wanted to remind him that he was the reason I was still there, but it didn't seem fair to bring that up.

  "C'mon, Jamie!" one of the girls hung out of Jeff's doorway, only her head and a pink knee visible.

  "C'mon, Jamie," Jeff echoed in the same soft, flirtatious tone.

  "Jamie, please," I said.

  With some effort, Jamie tore himself away from the sight of the girl and turned to me. "I'm feeling a bit of adrenaline just now. I'm looking for a rush."

  "I know I'm not the first person you think of when you want excitement, but I could be." I maneuvered Jamie to the side and kept my voice low.

  "Drew," he said. "Come on, now. What are you doing? Jeff's waiting for me." He seemed confused. Maybe no one had tried to stop him from messing up his life before.

  I had nothing left to lose, so I pulled out my last reserve, the truth. "I don't want you with Jeff. Something about him isn't right. You told me so yourself."

  "I didn't say he wasn't right. I said he was going to want you. If that's how you interpreted it, then you're the one with the issue." He leaned back and squeezed my arms with a tired smile. "Ah, fuck, mate. Something's not right about me, either."

  I grabbed his hand as he let go of me. "Jamie, please. Don't go in there. Stay with me. We can, you know, I mean if you want…" I couldn't quite say that he could fuck me. It was too crass for what I wanted, and I sure as hell wasn't going to use the phrase "making love" out here with everyone looking on.

  Jamie pulled his hand out of my grip. His sweat stuck to my fingers. "Don't. I know you aren't like that." I wondered what he'd say if he knew what I'd done with Jeff. "What I need right now, you can't give me, and I don't want you to. I don't want you to even think about being able to. That's not why I need you." He gave me a little shove towards my room. "Go on. Maybe I'll be by later after I've worked off some of this energy." I watched him walk towards Jeff's room. Jeff's hand reached out, lingered against the nape of Jamie's neck and guided him inside.

  Bob stood beside me. "How can you just stand by when he does stuff like this?" I asked.

  "A man has needs," he replied.

  I went into my room and slammed the door. I was useless when it came to making Jamie understand. Jamie probably was thinking the same about me, or would when he was capable of non-sexual thought again. Why did I make a habit out of failure? And why should Jamie have to wait until he wasn't thinking about sex before he thought of me? I grabbed the phone and punched the numbers so hard the base flew off the table. It rang.

  "I haven't had a chance to look at the new lyrics yet," Michael said, referring to an e-mail I'd sent. He sounded brisk. I heard the television in the background. I was interrupting his Law & Order time.

  "Jamie's having sex with Jeff and two girls."

  Detective Briscoe was silenced in mid-sentence. "Well, you've got my attention. So why aren't you in there with him?"

  "Because I'm not you?"

  "And I love you for it. Seriously, now. I don't see what you're going on about. Jamie's a big boy. But if you don't believe me, you could go check on him."

  "I'm afraid that something is going to happen, Michael."

  "Like what? Newsflash—Jamie's done this before. You know that."

  "It's different this time."

  "Because this time you think he should be with you."

  "Yes."

  "If you're concerned, get Jamie out of there. You've always wanted to play the white knight. Go do a bit of rescuing."

  "I can't just barge in on a bunch of naked people." I said.

  "You always seem to be around when I'm naked," Michael said.

  "Funny, I could say the same about you."

  "That's it, I'm not working with you anymore. From now on, I'm just phoning
in my half."

  I laughed. "Fine by me. You've made me laugh. Do you know how hard it is to stay upset when I'm talking to you?"

  "Yes, I do. So, are you going to run over there?" Michael asked.

  "Would you?"

  "I'm not in your situation, am I?"

  "But if you were?"

  "If I were, I'd have grabbed the girls for myself."

  "You're not helping."

  "All right. If I were, I'd accept that Jamie is a grown man and needs to make his own decisions. And I'd make sure he knew I was there to help him through them, assuming that's the role you want. I'm not wrong in thinking you're going that path, am I?"

  "You're probably right."

  "What do you mean 'probably'? Look, why don't you lie down for awhile? Let yourself have a break."

  "I'm not tired."

  "C'mon, I'll sing you to sleep."

  "Oh, lord, no."

  "Just kidding, dear. Close your eyes, I'll have you to sleep in a minute."

  I kicked my shoes off and closed my eyes. I held the phone up to my ear. Michael crashed something.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "I'm putting you on speaker phone on the piano. Wait a tic." Another crash as Michael situated himself, and then he said, "Here we go. It's Chopin's Nocturne in g minor, Opus thirty-seven."

  Michael always announced the piece he was playing, which was just as well since I was generally lost on such things. I pressed the phone between the pillow and my ear.

  "Michael? Do you remember after Kate left and we used to watch TV on the couch and eat pretzels all night?"

  "I remember you never let me watch the NASCAR races."

  "Let's do that when I get home, okay?"

  "Yeah."

  He started playing. I closed my eyes. I knew I wouldn't sleep. Even so, after a few minutes, my eyes drooped and the phone tumbled to the floor. Chopin was muffled by the carpet as Michael played on.

  * * * *

  Excerpted from Jamie Webster: Unmitigated Honesty

  An unauthorized biography

  By Hamish MacGregor

  Published August 1997