Ache

by P. J. Post

  I look up.

  Shit, this is good.

  I stop what I’m doing and take my index finger and place it on the toe of her shoe and wait for her to move, but she doesn’t. I slowly draw a line up the shoe, over her sock and then around and up the back of her leg as I stand up. She never flinches. I brush past her hem, across her hip and slide my hand across her ass and then around her waist. We are very close now. I can feel her breathing against me. I see the sweat on her face from dancing. I smell her perfume. She’s intoxicating.

  I look down into her eyes. She has a drink that isn’t beer. She purses those red lips, wrapping them around her straw and looks up at me as she takes a sip.

  Jesus Christ on a stick.

  “You ok?” she asks with concern.

  My nose is still bleeding some and I wipe it clean. “I think I’ll live.”

  “Need any help?” she asks.

  “No, I got this, but thanks.”

  “You sure?” She bends down to my guitar cables.

  The stage is clear of the crowd now and Todd is grinning at me.

  I reach down and take the cables from her and pull her back up by her hand.

  “You could get me a beer,” I say, pulling a beer coupon from my back pocket and handing it to her.

  “Ick, it’s wet,” she says.

  “You talking about the ticket, the beer or something else I should know about?”

  She blushes slightly. “What kind of beer do you want, smartbutt?” She smiles and takes another sip.

  “Tap, whatever is fine.”

  “You said you want to tap something?” she asks.

  “Yeah, something blond,” I respond matter-of-factly, looking into he eyes.

  Her eyes widen slightly and then she grins as she returns her attention to her straw, taking a sip while she looks back up at me and twists from side to side like she is reminding me she has a goddamn secret. Do girls go to some special school to learn this shit or is it instinct?

  She holds my hand and pulls me over to the side of the stage and I help her down like a proper gentleman, but I’m not thinking anything gentlemanly at the moment.

  I watch her walk through the crowd and across the dance floor, her skirt swishing back and forth. She turns back and I can see her smiling under the bar lights.

  “So, that’s her?” Tonya asks disapprovingly.

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s not from around these parts is she?” Tonya asks.

  “What was your first clue?” I ask.

  “The wrinkle-free clothes. You going to sleep with her?” Tonya asks.

  “Only if I can,” I say through a shit-eating grin.

  “Don’t be a pig.”

  “I’m joking,” I say defensively.

  “No you’re not,” she responds without mirth. “Be careful, okay? I’m not sure about this one.”

  “She’s friends with Carla and Carla’s pretty cool.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not trying to date Carla, this is different.”

  “Todd, dude?”

  Todd laughs. “Don’t look at me. You were right though, she is hot. Maybe you can get a pity-fuck?”

  “Kiss my ass,” I say.

  “It’s what I’m here for; encouragement, dude. But you are going to do her right?” Todd asks.

  “Do her? Like painting a fence? No, man. I really like her, I don’t want to mess this up. I think I need to go slow.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Tonya says.

  “Don’t go too slow. Remember what Carla said, she’s dating around. There’s always someone else waiting in the wings,” Todd says.

  “You’re a dick,” I say.

  “I’m for real, dude.”

  Tonya glances at up at me. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  I lay my forehead against hers. “I’m always hurting.”

  An odd expression passes over her eyes and then she nods and lets it go.

  I turn to Todd. “Watch my stuff, okay?”

  Todd grins. “Yeah, but get your ass back here for load out, or we’re keeping your share of the cash.”

  “No problem, thanks,” I say and then turn back to Tonya. “You were amazing tonight.”

  She offers up a shy smile. “Thanks.”

  “I like the new look,” I say.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s weird though.”

  “What’s that suppose to mean?” she asks, tilting her head.

  “You look hot, but I miss the flannel shirts and baggy chinos,” I say.

  She looks down for a second and then away with a slight frown.

  “No, don’t get me wrong, you look great, maybe sexy even. I just never thought about you, um, you know?” I’ve never been at a loss for words around Tonya, but I suddenly feel awkward talking about how she looks.

  “No, I don’t know. Never mind.” She looks down again and then she’s a little colder when she looks back up. “Your new girlfriend reminds me of Debbie, don’t let her near my van,” she says flatly.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to piss you off, you do look, um,” I say.

  “Too late,” Tonya says and then turns to see Shauna walking back. She softens and says, “Take care of yourself here, okay? Please?”

  I give her a hug, but as I start to release her, she squeezes me tighter, not letting go.

  I lay my face against her hair. “Thanks, I will. Carla’s probably around here somewhere, you be careful too. She has trouble written all over her.”

  Tonya seems to force a laugh as she pulls away. “She did this,” she says motioning to her outfit. “She’s not too much trouble, but, I’m sure she’ll find me if she is.”

  “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

  “Okay,” she says and stares at me for moment, but I can’t read her thoughts. She shakes her head and then turns away.

  I grab my guitars, amp and equipment and stack it up off to the side of the stage behind the drum cases and other gear while I try to figure out what Tonya’s gig is. I’m sure it has something to do with the Laundromat last night or maybe how extra-fucked up I’m being tonight. She must be worried about me getting hurt, but I think I got this one under control, at least for now.

  I turn and Shauna’s back, beer in hand.

  I take the beer and then a long drink.

  I look down to those red heels and then slowly back up to that wide, happy-birthday smile and hungry eyes.

  These are uncharted waters.

  We won’t be able to load out until after The Freaks finish their sets. That gives me a couple of hours to see what, if anything — is what.

  10

  Black Light Prelude

  I want to talk to her. I want to take her to one of the less loud corners of the room, but the moment calls for dancing, away from the pit, of course. The Freaks are insane and groovy as hell, so we dance, occasionally touching and holding each other and staring into each other’s eyes — an unspoken desire tethering us together.

  We finally take a break between sets, and I take her hand and lead her to one of those quieter dark corners. The walls are lined with a wooden bench, and I let her sit and then lean over.

  “Something to drink?”

  “Pepsi?”

  “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says.

  I walk backwards to the bar, watching her. As I’m standing at the bar, I realize yesterday’s anxiety has melted away and been replaced by an uneasy, yet comforting feeling. I think it’s nerves, but there’s something else here too. It’s not like it was earlier, like something’s changed between us.

  The black lights come on again, and I see her socks and shirt glowing in the corner and then she smiles. She crosses her legs with provocative grace. She’s the same girl I’ve been flirting with for the last month, but now it feels more like I picked up the winner of a wet t-shirt contest rather a first date. I grin at my thoughts. I guess, in the end,
there’s nothing wrong with that either.

  I return with a beer for myself and her Pepsi and hand it to her.

  She smiles and then looks down and away, like she’s gone shy.

  I sit down close enough so that our thighs are touching. It’s electric.

  She turns back and softens and looks up into my eyes again. We lean close to hear one another. I can feel her breath again, smell her — it’s like a magnet, the closer I get, the closer I need to be.

  “I’m happy you showed up,” I say.

  “Me too.”

  “To be honest, I didn’t think you would.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, the boyfriend thing for one,” I say as a matter of fact. I’m holding back my meeting with Carla earlier in the day. Although, I’m sure they had a long talk about it already.

  “Took you long enough to mention that,” she says, her eyes are almost accusing as she sips her drink.

  “For one thing, I’m not sure there is a boyfriend, to be honest. Well, there might be a boyfriend here somewhere,” I say through a grin as I look around.

  “Maybe, I haven’t decided yet.”

  “So?”

  “I’m sorry. I get hit on all the time and I’m kind of shy.”

  “Wait, you're shy?”

  She slaps my thigh and leaves her hand there.

  “Yes,” she continues, “shy, sometimes anyway. The boyfriend excuse is almost a reflex now. You wouldn’t believe the lines they throw at me, even old guys, it’s creepy. I don’t go out with just anyone. Most men are pigs.”

  “I think you’d like Tonya.”

  I feel her tense, her eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments and then she relaxes almost as quickly. “Oh, your singer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s cute.”

  “I guess she is, yeah.” I look across the room and spot her hanging out with Todd and Kevin near the stage, talking to Chad. Tonya must have sensed me looking, because she looks back, but I can’t make out her expression. I notice Carla’s wearing jeans and a band shirt as she walks over to Tonya with some preppie looking guy in tow. “I never thought about it.”

  “Never?”

  I look at her questioningly. “No, not like that. Why?”

  “Are you sure you and her aren’t an item?” she asks.

  I grimace. “Sorry, no. I don’t think she is capable of being an item right now.”

  Those aren’t just lyrics, she’s working through shit, so I don’t see her waiting by the phone for a date anytime soon.

  “So, if she were capable of being an item?” Shauna asks.

  “No, she’s my friend. She doesn’t even have girl parts as far as I’m concerned. She’s like my sister.”

  “Maybe she needs to get a boyfriend.”

  “Nah, I think that might cramp her style.”

  “She seems to be getting along with Carla pretty well. Carla said she was nice.” She sips her drink. “You two are good friends?”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “Well, if she’s not into you, I’m wondering if there’s something about you I should know? Do I need to talk to her? You got secrets, Connor Clay?” she asks with that accusatory look again.

  Yeah, I got secrets, enough to make you run for the hills, but I smile and reach down and take her hand, intertwining our fingers. She squeezes back, her hands are warm and soft.

  “You’ll find out everything you need to know about me soon enough.”

  “Everything?” she asks as she crosses her legs and leans toward me.

  “Yeah, hey, you know, I’ve wanted to ask you out since I met you but it never felt right,” I say, changing the subject. I don’t want to talk about Tonya or the band or anything else besides Shauna, especially anything resembling a secret.

  “I know,” she says.

  “You know?”

  “Well, I guessed.”

  “Guessed?”

  “Hoped?” She smiles and raises her thumb and forefinger, holding them close. “Just a little, maybe.”

  “A little, huh? I wonder what I should make of that?”

  She shrugs and takes another sip of soda, looking up at me with those blue eyes.

  “What made you think I was even interested?” I ask, deciding to act aloof.

  “Well, there was all the flirting and then you always jumped around in line and let the other customers go in front of you so you could come to my window.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think you noticed.”

  “I noticed.” She leans over staring into my eyes, grinning and shakes her head. “Everyone noticed. It was cute, sometimes it was almost embarrassing. You should have heard what the girls at the bank had to say, but it was still cute, maybe even a little romantic.”

  “Romantic, huh? So when you were all talking, did they say that or did you say that?”

  “The romantic thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I said you were persistent.”

  “And?”

  “My boss said that meant you’d be good in bed.” She lets go of my hand and covers her face and although it’s dark, I’m sure she’s blushing. “I can’t believe I said that.”

  “Mrs. Farmington?” I ask in surprise.

  “No, the other one.”

  “That would be creepy, she was my elementary school teacher.”

  “Ew, that would be creepy.”

  I reach up and pull her hand back down and gently brush my lips across her fingers.

  “So I’m not just anyone?” I ask.

  I feel her shiver slightly when I kiss her hand. We lace our fingers together and she rests them on my thigh again.

  “No, you are not just — anyone. I have a checklist, you made the cut.”

  “A checklist? Sounds serious.”

  “No, not like that, it’s just, you know.”

  “So, how do I measure up?”

  “I’m here,” she says as she tilts her head sideways and smiles like she’s in a Pageant.

  “So you are, so you are, but I thought Carla made you come.”

  “No, I was always going to be here. I love her like family, but she can’t keep secrets. Don’t trust her. She meddles,” she says laughing.

  “Well, whatever made you come, I’m glad you did. I guess Carla told you we met today.”

  “Yeah, she told me about that.”

  There’s that secret thing again, she doesn’t elaborate at all.

  “Is the outfit her work?” I ask.

  “No, she wanted me to wear jeans.”

  “That would have fit in better. You’re a little over-dressed for this bar.”

  “I didn’t wear it for the bar, I wore it for you. I wanted to make sure you noticed me.”

  “I’d notice you anywhere, no matter what you were wearing.”

  She smiles. “Maybe. You know what? I knew you were in a band,” she says averting her eyes.

  “I never said anything about that before yesterday. How did you know?’

  “I saw you at Gullies, the donut shop over on Main. You were putting up flyers on the streetlight poles out front. After you left, I went over and checked it out. I’d talked to Carla some about you, so she thought we should go.”

  “Little Miss Shy is a stalker?”

  “Am not!” she says, letting go of my hand and slapping my leg again. She squeezes my thigh slightly, and I can feel it in my goddamn toes. I rest my hand on her legs right at the edge of her hem, she’s warm everywhere. It’s almost imperceptible, but her breath catches.

  “Well?”

  She pauses for a moment and then says, “I wanted to see what you were about.”

  “And?”

  “And, I think you rock, really, you’re amazing.”

  “Thanks, but I’m a hack.”

  “You know better than that.”

  “What happened to shy girl? Now you’re acting like Carla, pretty direct.”

  “You mean when I’m not blushing after I embarrass the heck
out of myself?”

  I grin, “Yeah.”

  “We’ve been friends for a long time. So, maybe I picked up a few things from her. I guess I can be direct sometimes. Well.” She looks up at me with a sideways grin. “If it’s something I really want.”

  She lets one heel drop to the floor and begins rubbing my leg with her toes.

  “You seem to be used to getting what you want,” I say.

  “I usually do.”

  I want to kiss her right then so badly, but I know it’s not the right time. It has to be as perfect as the whole night’s been. Besides, I’m enjoying talking to her way too much, there will be time later. She leans back, setting her drink down and gives me an odd look as she lays both hands on my thigh, sliding one through the rips in my jeans. Feeling her hand on my skin makes me tremble. I know she feels it, because she slides her hand inside a little more. It’s hard to concentrate on the conversation; I want to take her in my arms right now, right here.

  “So, what is this list exactly?” I ask instead.

  She looks up at me again. “You talk too much.”

  I smile. “The list?”

  She leans back and sighs. “Fine. It came from staying up all night, you know — sleepovers, bad relationships, terrible dates, eating lots of ice cream together with Carla. I mean, it’s not a list list. It’s just stuff that turns me on,” she says doing that looking up thing with her eyes again.

  “I’ll bite, what turns you on?”

  “Not too hard I hope.” She gives me an evil leer.

  “We’ll see, back to the list.”

  “Well.” She pulls her hand away and covers her mouth as she laughs. “Some of it is turn-offs too. The biggest thing is no horse-hockey, I don’t have any tolerance for it anymore. I’ve had way too much of that over the last year, so no more.”

  “Did you just say horse-hockey? You mean, horse-shit?”

  She grins and nods.

  I think about last night at the Laundromat, horse-hockey is my middle name.

  She continues, “And part two of that is the guy has to be genuine, you know, he can’t be trying to impress me with how cool he is, or with his money or any of that macho stuff. He has to be honest.”