Punk and Zen

by JD Glass

  ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

  Enjoy The Silence

  Woke up in the morning underneath the sunlight glare

  You know I’d never ask you but I wonder if you care

  It’s so hard to believe—and easy to deceive

  Do you want me for me?

  “Me for Me”—Life Underwater

  ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

  Fran lay next to me on the bed, drawing lazy circles on my chest with her fingertips as I held her close and kissed her ABC Page 164head.

  “I asked Dee Dee if you could leave early,” she confessed quietly as we enjoyed our closeness.

  “Really? When? Why?”

  “Yes, really, when you were in the basement playing with the taps, and because I needed to spend some time with you,” she answered in the order that I’d asked.

  The gig was in a few days, and after that, I was taking some time off from work—I’d planned to spend that time with her. If she’d really needed something, I’d have absolutely made sure I was free and there for her. Something must be wrong then, right?

  “Kitt, love, is everything okay? I mean, why—”

  “Shh…” she said and slid her body over mine, then kissed me sensually. She touched my face, running her thumb into that spot on my chin she loved so much as my hands skimmed along the smooth muscles of her back, then caressed the span of her shoulders.

  “I have to go away…” she sighed and murmured into my throat. I lightly traced her arms as she snuggled on my shoulder. “I’m leaving Friday afternoon.”

  “That’s tomorrow,” I realized aloud. “So soon? Do you have to go for a long time?” I didn’t ask her when or where. She had never pressed me for anything, and I wouldn’t do it to her.

  She propped her head on her hand. “Long enough that I won’t be in town for your gig,” she answered, “and I really wanted to go.”

  I leaned up to kiss her head and she sat up with me. “I’ll miss you,” I said as I reached to play with her hair as it lay across her shoulder. I caressed her neck as I pushed the long strands back. I would, too.

  I might not have been ready to set up householding with anyone yet—and I absolutely hated that oft-rumored lesbian tradition, you know the one, how everyone moves in together on the second date? But I loved her and wouldn’t dream of doing anything that would harm her or us.

  Yeah, I might still flirt a bit, but that went with the job territory. I might not have liked to deal with it, but it wasn’t just my sparkling wit and conversation that made me money; it was my face, too—and I was the lead guitarist in a band. However, in light of the intensity of what Fran and I shared, I doubted I would ever sleep with anyone else. In fact, I never even thought about it.

  “I’ll miss you every day until you come back,” I told her and kissed her cheek, then put my arms around her and she nestled into them.

  “Will you, really?” she asked, whispering into my breast in a small voice, and I pressed my lips to her head again.

  “Of course I will, Kitt. You’re my golden lion,” I assured her in between kisses. “You’re the pride of my heart.”

  At those words, she gazed up at me with such a vulnerable expression that the emotions that rose in me threatened to make me cry and forced me to wrap myself around her, holding her close, protecting her innocence.

  “I didn’t know that,” she said simply and kissed my collarbone.

  I rocked her closer, loving her, her body curled within my embrace. “That’s a mistake on my part, then,” I murmured, “because you should know.”

  We sat that way for a while, skin to skin, while her breath dusted over my breasts where she laid her head above them.

  “I got you something,” she said finally into our quiet, lifting her head and tossing it to shake her hair free.

  “Yeah?” I asked lightly, loosening my hold. “For me?”

  “Yeah,” she answered, a smile in her voice and on her lips as she wiggled in my arms. She tweaked my chin. “For you.”

  She straightened and jumped up, onto the floor, then grinned. “What are you wearing for your show?”

  “I haven’t thought about it, really. Why?” I especially wasn’t thinking about it now and figured I’d wear some variation of what I usually wore, maybe pay a little more attention to—what else—my hair.

  “C’mon, get up,” she exhorted, clapping her hands together briskly, “show me what you’ve got.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What, you haven’t seen enough already?” I asked, but I complied, stretching my arms above my head and enjoying the appreciation in her eyes.

  “Shame to have to cover that.”

  “Really?” I asked cheekily, then caressed her waist and leaned in to kiss her neck. “I think you cover me quite well.”

  “Mmm,” she responded as my lips caressed the column of her neck, “I agree…but I meant with clothes.” She touched my arm and I raised my eyes to hers.

  “Does that mean you have something in mind?”

  Her eyes widened. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you’re always taking my clothes off. Well, that and,” I paused a moment for effect, “the fact that you never bring anything up without a reason.”

  “I do that?” she asked, laughing.

  “Yeah, sometimes.”

  “Well, you happen to be right.” She smiled. “I do have something in mind.”

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with my present, now would it?” I grinned slyly.

  “It might, it might,” she affirmed, nodding. Walking over to her closet, she pulled out her bag, then opened it to remove a plastic shopping bag that had been folded over.

  She came back to me, took my hands, and held them gently between us. “Close your eyes.”

  “Closed,” I told her as I did so.

  Her hands left mine cold as she rummaged through her bag. Then I felt her warmth near again.

  “Okay, lift,” she ordered, patting my right leg.

  I did, and she slid something part of the way up. I could feel it puddle around my foot—a texture, a scent I recognized, that made my nostrils flare.

  “Other one,” she asked, and I helped. When both legs were on, she slid them up me and rested her hands on my waist.

  “You did not,” I said, stunned by what I felt as I ran my hands down my thighs.

  “Did not what?” she asked innocently. “Oh, you can open your eyes now, by the way.”

  I did. And couldn’t breathe a moment as I looked down, confirming what my senses had told me. “Holy shit!” I exclaimed softly when my breath returned.

  Soft black leather pants with a light sheen—and a lace-up front. They fit me exactly like what they were—a second skin. “Man oh man!” I said as I adjusted the laces. “And,” I took a step and grabbed my boots, slipping them on, “straight cut! I love straight-cut pants!” I exclaimed as I examined the fit and the perfect drape over my boots. I did and do love a straight cut—makes my legs look even longer. Hey, just because I don’t think I’m good-looking doesn’t mean I’m not aware that I’ve got nice ABC legs.

  I looked up to see her watching me with the strangest expression.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to keep you…” she said softly as she approached. “Christ, Nina, you look like a Razor.”

  “Thank you, thankyouthankyou!” I enthused, grabbing her in my arms and whirling her around until we were at the foot of the bed where we fell onto it.

  “You look so fuckin’ hot!” she told me as she twined her arms around my neck.

  “You shouldn’t have, you know,” I said as I brought my lips to hers.

  “What, and miss this? Not on your life.” She cupped my face the way she always did, running her thumb over my chin. Her eyes glowed at me, that melted caramel color that I could drown in. “This way, I’ll be with you during your show,” she said softly, “before you go off and become the star you’re gonna be.”

  “Baby, that’s not—” I began, but stopped as he
r eyes filled with tears. “Oh, baby, no, don’t cry,” I said, kissing her eyes, kissing the tears. I scooped her up in my arms.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I promised. “I’m gonna be wondering when you’re getting back so I can pick you up at the airport, and I’m going to take a few days off so we can go and do something.”

  She laughed softly through her tears. “Baby, don’t write checks your reality can’t cash,” she said quietly, and kissed my chin.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “This is my reality, I’m not going anywhere.” In many ways, I thought that was true. I didn’t have that piece of paper so many of my peers had that proved I knew how to at least read, didn’t have a “real” job; I didn’t have much except for the untouchables—the love I felt for her and the music in my body.

  She smiled at me and wiped her eyes. “Nina, you’re too big for this place, and everybody knows it, everybody knows it but you,” she said, and kissed me again.

  I kicked my boots off and Fran wrapped her legs around mine. We simply rested there together, my head under her chin as I lay on top of her.

  I don’t know how long we’d been there like that when the phone rang. Since it did that so rarely, I answered it.

  “’Lo.”

  “Hullo!” cheered out at me. “Francesca?”

  “It’s for you,” I told her. She took it from me, and I carefully moved so I wouldn’t crush her. I lay at her side and got comfortable.

  “This is Fran.” From the way her voice bounced back from the phone, I could tell this would be one of those calls where everyone could hear everything. I put a pillow over my head in an attempt to muffle the sound.

  “Hullo, Francesca!” the phone sang. I knew that voice, knew that cheery accent.

  “Good morning, Candace,” Fran answered formally. Her body stiffened as she sat up. I pulled the pillow from my head and read the rigid lines of her back. I pushed the pillow behind me and sat up too, wrapping my legs around her and pulling her into me, making a cage of my body for her to sink into, to take warmth from. I pulled the blanket up and tucked it around her waist and mine, then leaned back, Fran in my arms. She twisted onto her side and laid her head against my shoulder. I kissed her head.

  I had no idea what the call was about, but I knew everything was about to change—it wasn’t just the call, but her trip and my gig. I suddenly got this sense that maybe, just maybe, this gig might be a bigger deal than I thought it would be, than any of us, meaning Jerkster and Stephie and I, thought it would be. Maybe not, though. Could be that sense was just because it was a first with a date, a time, and an exclamation point, and that alone made it important.

  Still, and more important, we wouldn’t be together for it, and I wanted to be as close to her for as long as possible before everything went wherever it was going to go.

  She glanced up at me with a grateful smile, and I kissed her forehead. She sighed and snuggled back into me.

  “To what do I owe this wake-up pleasure?” she asked with wry politeness.

  I could hear Candace’s little laugh that I remembered so well.

  “You know,” she began drolly, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was my lovely lady Nina who answered your phone, Francesca,” Candace teased, “but you know, I never could actually get her to stay.”

  Heat radiated from her body as she sat up, and when she glanced at me again before turning away, I could see (and I admit, this kinda thrilled me) the fire snap in her eyes.

  “Perhaps because she wasn’t yours to begin with?” she answered.

  I gave her a hug and a kiss to remind her I was there, and she looked over her shoulder at me and threw me another brilliant smile, then settled more comfortably against me.

  “Well, perhaps you’re right,” Candace laughed, “but then again, who could tame that? Hold on…are you saying that’s her?”

  Fran said nothing, she visibly stiffened and angled forward.

  I straightened with a sigh. It seemed like the moment we’d been so carefully avoiding was upon us, like a bucket of water perched on a door frame. It hadn’t fallen yet, but we were about to get soaked.

  I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my cigarettes.

  “Oh, Annie, come here, this is just too rich,” I could hear Candace call in the background. “Francesca has bagged my bird.”

  Fuck it. I lit her a butt too, as she raised eyes filled with anger and pain to me.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered and tried to give her a smile. Hers was small and tight in return as she took the cigarette I gave her. We both knew I lied.

  And then, I heard it, through the miles, through the static and that ridiculous tiny speaker. There was no mistaking that sound, the sound I thought I’d never hear again—

  Samantha’s laugh as she picked up the phone on her end.

  “Hey, Fran,” I heard her greet, still laughing, “Candace has convinced me to go back to the States for a visit, and since I have some things to take care of, it’ll be New York specifically. Can I use the keys?”

  She looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction, and I shook my head, not knowing what to say, because the moment I heard that voice, a tingle had spread through my skin until it felt like the top of my head, no, my whole body, was going to dissolve into an electric spark.

  Fran took a slow, deep breath. “When were you thinking of coming?” she asked, exhaling softly.

  I decided to stare at the wall. I didn’t want to hear this conversation, but I couldn’t help it. I could at least pretend I wasn’t paying attention.

  “Why, Fran, is that a no?” Sam, I mean Annie, chuckled sarcastically.

  “Of course not,” she answered, obviously flustered. She jumped off the bed and began to pace. “It’s just that I’m leaving for California in a few days and…”

  My head snapped back around. “California?” I mouthed at her, shocked. I don’t know why I was so surprised—I mean, that’s where she’d done her ABC internship, and where she wanted to go after she was done with her studies, and I knew that. But it was so far.

  She nodded at me and continued her conversation. “…and I was just wondering if we’d get a chance to meet on your trip.” Fran breathed hard, her entire body was flushed, and as she paced the floor again, she bit her lip nervously.

  “Oh,” Annie answered, “I thought perhaps you were trying to keep your new girl a secret.”

  Her lips tightened. “Annie, I just thought that—”

  “I’ve an idea!” Annie interrupted. “Let’s go to the Red Spot and see if we can find Candace’s favorite attempt!”

  “Ann, don’t go there,” she warned. “That’s a hell of way to talk about an old friend—and someone you haven’t even—”

  Annie blithely ignored her and spoke over her.

  “Sounds like she’s enough to take us all on. Maybe it’ll take all of us to keep her, what do you say?” She laughed.

  “Watch your fucking mouth, Blade.” She spoke sharply, fire cracking through her voice.

  It hurt to hear those words come through the phone, to know that Candace had considered me more casual than I had thought. I’d considered us, at the very least, anyway, friends. But it hurt even more to know that after all these months, Samantha, I mean, Ann, Annie, whatever, had not only not tried to get in touch with me, but that I was probably the source of foreplay conversation between her and Candace.

  The concept made me nauseous, crumbled something inside me. I looked up from my introspection to see Fran’s eyes focused on me, fiercely concerned, hurt for me. She gestured to ask if I’d take the phone.

  There was absolutely no fucking way, and I shook my head violently. “Candace knew how to get in touch with me. She could have called me months ago,” I said in an angry stage whisper.

  For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t worked at the same place for months, and it wasn’t as if Mickey and everyone at the Red Spot didn’t get in touch with me from time to time. If someone
had tried to find me there, Mickey would have passed the information on to me. I knew that for certain because he had. Fucked up, this was fucked up.

  I jumped out of bed and stretched, then crushed the cigarette I hadn’t been smoking in the ashtray.

  “Blade? Blade? You haven’t called me that since…” The phone went silent ABC a moment, and as I focused on crushing the remaining embers, I glanced over at Fran long enough to see the spark flaring in her eyes.

  “Since?” she prompted, her lips twisted in an angry curve.

  “C’mon, Kitt,” Annie drawled sarcastically, “don’t fuck around. You know how I—”

  “How you feel about her, Sam?” she interrupted. “Yeah, in fact, I do, every day. So watch your fucking mouth.”

  I couldn’t listen to any more of this—not that voice, not that tone, and not Fran’s responses. There was silence on the other end as I stalked to the closet, grabbed the closest T-shirt I could find, and yanked it over my head. I looked at it as I strode to the door. Love and Rockets, Vida Loca, or “crazy life” in English. How appropriate, I thought.

  “Where you going?” Fran asked me in a worried undertone.

  I gave her the best smile I could manage. “Just getting us some water.” With the way my legs shook and threatened to buckle under me while waves rose in my gut and punched my throat, I figured I needed a bottle—and Fran looked like she could use some, too.

  I opened the door just in time to hear Sam’s voice cut across the planet. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  Fran closed her eyes and swallowed before she answered. “You know what? I wish I was.”

  I closed the door quietly behind me as I padded to the kitchen. Fuck. I’d forgotten my smokes. Back to the bedroom for me, then. I entered to see Fran had sat down again on the edge of the bed, smoking one of my cigarettes while she gripped the phone in her other hand.

  “Hey, don’t blame me, this isn’t my fuckin’ fault,” she fumed into the mouthpiece. “Candace should have told you about Nina months ago,” she said as I quickly grabbed my pack and left again.

  I could barely hear the reply squawk to that—for which I was grateful. My heartbeat hadn’t returned to normal yet.