Tags: jessica is made of awesome, waste of an entry, fangirling means srs bsns

Chapter 11

I know the language of your laugh
Tripping over circumstance

“Jack, do I have to give them my bra in order to get a drink here?” Kathy asked, glancing around the crowded, dark bar. It was packed with people and she had a feeling she was the only person not wearing black, certainly the only one in a fuzzy pink sweater.
Jack laughed, shifting his guitar case from one hand to the other so that he could grab onto hers, lacing their fingers together. She liked the way he lazily ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Relax, I got it,” he said.
“You’re going to give them your bra?” she asked dryly, eyeing the array of lacy lingerie tacked up behind the bar.
He looked down at her, a mixture of amusement and confusion on his face and it was beat or two before he grinned. “Yeah, that’s the plan.” He squeezed her hand and leaned down. “So what’ll it be?”
“A Cosmo?”
“Kath, if I order a Cosmo, they will definitely ask for my bra.”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling very out of place. “I have no idea. I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Place like this, it’s whiskey or beer. Or maybe tequila, but we should start you off slow. Don’t wanna to go too crazy.”
“Crazy for me is a regular instead of diet.” She did her share of drinking her freshman year, enjoying her freedom and testing her limits. It didn’t take her long to realize her limits didn’t reach much further than a couple glasses of wine or a fruity margarita that took two hours to finish. Jack, on the other hand, started drinking in high school like all the other cool kids, partying it up while she stayed behind to do her homework and watch the Disney channel.
Jack tugged gently on her hand, pulling her toward the bar. The bartender barked something over the loud din of people talking and the band playing and Jack barked something back, but she couldn’t make it out. Money exchanged hands and he turned around with two shot glasses filled to the brim with an amber liquid that was dark and thick and probably whiskey.
“We’ll start slightly crazy and then ease back into boring,” he said, his grin lopsided as he carefully handed the glass over to her.
She gave the glass a dubious look and took a sip, wincing slightly as the alcohol burned her throat. He groaned and she looked up. “What?”
“You aren’t gonna stand here and sip that,” he stated simply, downing his in one quick gulp, reaching back to place the empty glass on the bar.
“Trying to get me drunk?” she asked as they found a clearing in the sea of people to stand without being stepped on.
“Maybe.” He was leaning against the wall in the corner they crammed themselves into, his shoulders slouched slightly, like he was trying not to be so tall. His hair was flattened a bit from the snow and his clothes were all rumbled and damp, first from the tea she dumped on him and then from the … whatever you would call what happened on the roof. Part of her was still convinced she had imagined the whole thing. He looked tired and slightly worn out and kind of a mess and she thought she’d never seen anyone more loveable in her life.
“Trust me,” she sighed, “drunk Kathy is just as dull as sober Kathy.”
He narrowed his eyes, a flash of anger hardening his gaze for a second. “Who said sober Kathy was dull?”
“You want a list?”
Jack started to answer, but he didn’t get a chance. A guy came out of nowhere and pushed into his shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance. He winced as he caught himself, probably straining his already swollen knee.
“Jack, I can’t believe you actually showed up,” the guy laughed as Jack glared at him. “Seriously, man, you're becoming a hermit in your old age.”
“Hey, Steve,” Jack mumbled as he shifted his weight to his good leg and stuffed his hands in his jean pockets.
“It’s so awesome you came.”
Kathy grinned. Steve may look different – he was taller, thinner and much better looking than she remembered, but she could see that not much had really changed. Still a bit nerdy looking, but in a more eccentric way than when they were growing up. He had a plaid shirt unbuttoned over a vintage Pac-Man t-shirt that was probably authentic and not manufactured by some trendy teen store. His jeans were pressed and his hair was neat, but not too neat. He looked like he’d be equally at home at a club or behind a computer. It somehow made her have faith in the world that he and Jack were still friends.
“So you pulled yourself away from your latest ‘not what you’re thinking, Steve’,” he said, using air quotes, “to come out and have a good time?” Steve nudged Jack’s shoulder and winked at him. “I told you that the coffee house gig was going to be worth it. You can’t leave New York without getting laid at least --”
Jack cleared his throat loudly, stopping Steve in mid-sentence. He nodded, indicating Kathy, who was standing silently next to him, apparently undetected by the newest addition to their group. Steve looked over at her and gulped. “Oh, hey,” he said awkwardly.
“Hi,” she said, still holding the full glass of whiskey and pretty sure her cheeks were the same color as her sweater; they felt like they were on fire.
Steve looked away from her but then did a quick double take that was so exaggerated that it should have been accompanied by a cartoon sound effect. “Kathy?” he asked, his mouth hanging open.
She started to nod, but was enveloped in a big hug before she knew what was happening. Her drink smashed into Steve’s chest, spilling down the front of his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice. He smelled like Twizzlers and Doritos and Kathy added that to her list of things that would never change.
Wow, Kathy. It’s great to see you,” Steve said as he pulled back from the hug.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she figured that out,” Jack observed dryly. He reached out and took Kathy’s hand, pulling her next to him.
“Jealous?” Steve asked, snorting a laugh, but he stopped when his gaze zeroed in on their joined hands. “Wait a sec …”
“Not what you’re thinking, man,” Jack said steadily. “And you owe Kathy a drink.”
Huh?”
“You’re wearin’ the one I bought her.” Steve looked down at his shirt, finally noticing the dark stain spreading across Pac-Man. “Don’t worry,” Jack continued, “that’s how she says hello.”
“Hey!” Kathy protested.
“Like I’m lying?”
She opened and closed her mouth, fishing for a comeback. She gave up. “Fine,” she grumbled and he laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.
“That’s my girl.”
Steve just kept looking back and forth between them. “Sure. Not what I’m thinking. Right.”

XxXxXxXxXx

Kathy excused herself to use the restroom and judging by the line snaking out the door, she was going to be gone for a while. Steve kept grinning at him and he’d finally had enough. “What?” he practically shouted.
Steve shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Well, if it’s nothing, then stop staring at me; you’re creeping me out.” Jack sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He glanced back at the line Kathy was standing in and he watched with amusement as she talked to the chick in front of her who had her purple hair spiked out in an old school mohawk, with a chain running from her nose to her ear that shook as she nodded along to whatever it was Kathy was rambling on about.
“I can’t believe it. You and Kathy. Dude, it’s so perfect, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” Steve said.
“There is no me and Kathy.” He didn’t know it was a lie until he said it.
“Then stop looking at her.”
“I’m not looking at …” Jack’s voice trailed off. Kathy had just swung her arm out, gesturing while talking, and she knocked the arm of a guy passing by, spilling some of his draft beer onto his leather jacket. Jack grinned as she perfectly mimed being sorry and the guy left with half a beer and a dripping arm.
“As I was saying,” Steve said.
Jack turned and looked at his friend, who was rocking back and forth to the awful Springsteen cover band currently playing on stage. “Whatever, man,” he mumbled, taking a swig from his beer bottle. “There’s nothing between us and besides, I’m going home in a few hours.”
“You’re very convincing.”
“And you’re an asshole.”
The band was on their encore when Kathy finally made it back from the bathroom. “Did I miss anything?” she asked and Steve coughed.
“No. Steve here was just about to tell us why he dragged us out here in the snow to listen to some guy murder Thunder Road. Right, Steve?” Jack clamped his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed none too gently.
“Um …” Steve started, looking suspiciously guilty. Before he had a chance to respond, the house lights dimmed, signaling that the next band was about to start. Jack’s head already ached in anticipation of the crap they were going to be subjected to next, if the opening act was any indication.
If he’d been paying closer attention he might have realized it sooner. Someone was on stage announcing the surprise guest with the hit song and it still didn’t click. It wasn’t until those first few opening notes and those familiar lyrics that he’d written and rewritten countless times that it hit him. His grip tightened on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re dead.”
“Dude …” Steve started as he shoved Jack’s hand away.
Kathy looked back and forth between the two of them, a perplexed look on her face. “What’s going on?” she asked, turning her attention to the stage, standing on her tiptoes to see over the heads of the people crowding in front of them.
“The Spares,” Jack said flatly.
“You have to stop avoiding them,” Steve argued.
“Like hell I do.” Jack paused, taking a deep breath. “And I’m not avoiding them.”
“Yes you are,” Steve countered, looking over at Kathy like she could somehow back him up on it even though she clearly had no idea what was going on.
She did that concerned head tilt thing that Jack dreaded because he knew that whatever was going to follow was going to be heartfelt and concerned and if he said anything remotely negative he was going to sound like the world’s biggest jackass. “Jack?”
Chicks had a way of doing that – packing a punch with one simple word. He sighed, peeling the label off his beer. Shrugging, he said, “Nothing’s going on.”
“He’s been in New York for a month and hasn’t seen the guys once.” Steve looked at Jack.
“Whatever, man. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Wait,” Kathy interrupted, pointing at Steve. “If they’re on stage, how come you’re out here? Aren’t you the lead singer?”
Jack laughed. “Was the lead singer.”
“They replaced me senior year,” Steve explained, ignoring Jack’s laugh. “They didn’t need the garage any more. It all worked out - I’m their manager now.”
“Until they find a better one, which they will.” Jack shook his head, feeling a mixture of guilt and annoyance. He’d been the one pushing to replace Steve back when they were almost out of high school and moving to New York seemed like more than just a pipe dream concocted over a few too many beers and a joint or two.
Steve had been pissed at first and Jack was positive he’d lost his best friend, but at the time he didn’t care. Shit, he’d pretty much lost himself by that point in his life, a fact he wasn’t particularly proud of.
Despite the lousy way the situation was handled, the truth was Steve made a far better band manager than a lead singer anyway, so the decision wasn’t a bad one. But now that he’d been kicked out of the band in favor of a chick in a short skirt, Jack knew just how raw that feeling of rejection was. It was shitty and it was a hard one to put behind you. Fuck being an adult, he liked holding a grudge.
“It wouldn’t matter if you would just let me manage your career,” Steve pointed out for the hundredth time. It was his new goal in life – making Jack into some sort of indie rock singer/songwriter superstar. Jack tried to tell him that he was fine where he was, that he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his career and no amount of pushing or repeating the same damn plan over and over again was going to change that.
“Man, just go to school and get your nerdy degree in computer graphics or some shit like that and go make those damn video games you’re always talking about.” Jack pushed away from the wall he was leaning on and loped over to the bar. “Stop pinning your hopes on me, I’m not worth it.”
Kathy stepped up next to him, her arm brushing his. She was leaning against the bar, like she was going to order something. “Snow angels,” she said cryptically and for a second Jack thought he misheard her over the noise coming from the stage. Trevor fucked with the arrangement and even embroiled in yet another conversation over his career, Jack couldn’t help noticing just how bad the song sounded.
“What?” he said, leaning closer so he could hear her.
“Snow angels. You said I was afraid to make them – well, I think you are, too.”
“You think I’m afraid to make snow angels?”
“Well, metaphorical snow angels.” She winked at him and he fought a grin.
“Uh …” Steve said from behind them, looking more confused than Jack had ever seen him look in his life, which was really saying something. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”

XxXxXxXxXx

“Psst,” Jack whispered at her, but she ignored him. It was bad enough they were stuck in in-school suspension, but she didn’t want to make it worse. They were supposed to be working quietly – no talking, no nothing for seven long hours. Her backside was numb from sitting still for so long, and the day wasn’t even close to being over.
She couldn’t believe it when the principal told them – one whole week for getting into a fight. Because of the school’s policy, everyone involved suffered the same fate, which meant that she and Steve were stuck staring at the clock right alongside Jack and Matt. Her nemesis was in the back corner, far away from the rest of them, but she could hear him breathing through his busted nose. Wheeze. Wheeze. Wheeze. It was like a metronome, ticking out the beat of their boredom.
Mr. Rebar stood up at his desk and stretched. “I’ll be right back. You kids behave. No talking,” he said, pointing right at Steve who gulped loudly and blanched a bit. He was taking the whole suspension thing even worse than Kathy was.
As soon as the door closed, Jack was out of his desk and kneeling next to hers. “Jack,” she started, glancing nervously at the door. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“Relax, Rebar’s smoke breaks take approximately fifteen minutes and I’m convinced the guy also makes a pit stop at the teachers’ lounge to catch up on All My Children.”
Kathy narrowed her eyes. “Just how many times have you been suspended?”
Jack shrugged and picked up her pencil and started doodling on the rough draft of the essay she was working on. A guitar quickly took shape and it wasn’t half bad. “Just this year or my whole lifetime?” he asked. “If it’s lifetime, I might have to average it out and … well, you know how good I am at math.”
He started tapping the pencil on the desk. “Anyway. I just … um … wanted to say I was sorry for getting you in trouble.”
His voice was soft and he was looking down, his shoulders slumped like a world of guilt was pressing down on them. She ducked her head next to his so that the other guys in the room couldn’t hear her. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “And it’s not your fault - Matt started it.”
“Yeah, but I could have stopped it. I just really wanted to punch the guy.” He looked up, pushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes.
Kathy grinned. “So did I.”

XxXxXxXxXx

Kathy chewed on her bottom lip as Steve’s house came into view. The garage was open and the disjointed sounds of a vaguely familiar song came blaring out of the cramped space; that could mean only one thing – band practice. She twisted Chaucer’s leash in her hands, part of her wanting to run up that driveway and the other part of her wanting to cross the street to the other side, avoiding temptation all together.
Tears pricked at her eyes and she felt like screaming at her mother, at the world, at anyone and everyone who crossed her path. It wasn’t fair. Her mother was overreacting but no amount of pleading on her part was going to change her mind.
“I hate you,” she’d yelled at the top of her lungs after her mother had passed down her ultimatum, treating her more like a defendant she was cross-examining than like her own daughter. The words had hung between them like a gauntlet that had been thrown. Part of her wanted to take them back, surely she couldn’t mean them, but another part of her felt liberated for finally having the guts to stand up for herself. Not that it did any good.
She hurried past the end of the driveway, thankful for the first time for the persistence with which Chaucer tugged on his leash, practically dragging her down the street.
“Kathy,” Jack called after her and she knew she hadn’t escaped.
Turning slowly, she kept her head down, hoping he couldn’t tell just how close to tears she really was.
“Hey,” he said as he caught up to her, slightly out of breath. “Thought you were coming to practice today.”
She shrugged, still looking at the ground, studying the withered weeds that had pushed through the cracked sidewalk. She brushed the toe of her sneaker over them, trying to dig them up, but they held fast, their roots deep beneath the cement.
She could tell Jack was looking at her, probably confused. She finally looked up and she heard the breath hitch in his chest. Apparently, she’d failed at stopping the tears. Somehow, that thought made them swell up more and spill down her cheeks. She brushed at them with the sleeve of her jacket, her smile wobbly.
“What … what’s wrong?” Jack asked and she knew crying scared him and made him get all twitchy and nervous.
“Nothing,” she said and he laughed lightly.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Tell me about it.” She took in a shuddering gulp and figured she should just get it over with, like pulling a band-aid off a cut. “My mom.”
“I’m shocked,” he said dryly, but she could see by the set of his shoulders, by then tension running through them, that her mother upset him. She wasn’t sure exactly what happened to him growing up, but she knew that people who were supposed to care for him had hurt him terribly. She’d told him that it wasn’t like that at her house, but she always wondered if a part of him didn’t believe her.
Taking a deep breath, she continued, the words coming out slowly, painfully. “She said I can’t be friends with you anymore.”
“That’s bullshit,” Jack said angrily.
She chewed on her bottom lip, her nose stuffing up and her vision growing blurry. “I know. But … but she’ll know. She’s going to check on me and …”
“And what?”
“I don’t know. I just … she was so mad about the fighting and the suspension and I just … I don’t know what to do, Jack.”
She must have sounded miserable because she could see him struggling, like he wanted to hit something, but instead his shoulders slouched and he reached out, taking the leash from her hands. “Come on.” He nodded back toward Steve’s and the band. “Come listen to us play. Just one song.”
Kathy grabbed the leash, but he held fast, like they were in a tug-of-war. “I have to go, Jack.”
His grip tightened. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling firmly and he finally let go.
“I’ll see you at school,” she said as she watched him walk back to his friend’s house. She watched until he disappeared into the garage and it felt like a door slamming on her life. Chaucer yanked on his leash and she reluctantly walked away, leaving behind the garage and Jack, wishing that for once in her life she had the guts to do the wrong thing.

XxXxXxXxXx

“Jack, trust me, there’s nothing worse than looking back on your life and realizing you should have taken a chance, but you didn’t.” She couldn’t help thinking just how different things could have turned out had she marched up that driveway with Jack instead of listening to her mother.
Jack leaned forward, his elbow on the bar, his gaze locked with hers. “You have no regrets?”
She rolled her eyes. “Thousands.”
He laughed. “Right.”
“Okay, maybe a few dozen. My point is, you don’t want to be an old man, looking back on your life and seeing this moment right here as the one where you decided to take the easy way out.”
He nudged her shoulder with his beer bottle. “You really should reconsider that drink, I think you could use one.”
“She’s right, man,” Steve interjected and Jack sighed, looking at the ceiling for divine intervention, or an escape route. His friend hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Listen to them.”

“Your point?” Jack asked. Kathy strained to hear the band over the noise of the bar. All she could hear was a mess of screaming and instruments – just a wall of noise and not much else. They certainly didn’t sound like the band she knew growing up.
“My point is, they’re up there and you’re down here and they sound like shit. Something is missing and we both know it’s you.” Steve continued his argument and Kathy could tell it was one Jack had probably heard dozens of times. “You’re the real thing, dude. It’s been a year, you have to let it go and move on with your life. You’ve earned it, Jack. Kathy, please tell him I’m right.”
Kathy studied Jack for a minute. He was putting up a good front – anyone who didn’t know him would just see a tough, edgy guy in torn jeans and a leather jacket. But he wasn’t fooling her. He looked lost, like he needed a lifeline to hold onto, someone to believe in him. Smiling softly, she took his hand in hers and simply said, “He knows.”



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