The Now or Never Kind

After several hours of sitting around with various family members, none of whom really paid attention to the guest of honour who had just graduated high school, I managed to escape out to my car in time to pick Beth up from the airport.

“Thank you for saving me from the swarm of family at my father’s house,” I said once she showed up. “Though it’s kind of nixed by the fact that one of the guys who recognised me grabbed my ass.”

“Get used to it, sweetheart,” she laughed.

We drove back to my dad’s to find my living room nearly evacuated of family and attempting to be refilled by friends. All sitting around, they stopped talking and stared at the two of us; I glanced slowly at Beth, who was looking back with an eyebrow raised slightly. “Hey, guys,” I greeted, setting down Beth’s suitcase. “Beth, welcome to my father’s house. You’ll soon hate it as much as everyone else.”

Somewhere after pizza but before hot-tubbing, I found myself on the loveseat with Beth, surrounded by all my friends playing Rock Band, being loud, and in Mark’s case taking pictures with my camera. If not for the quiet and amusingly scathing comments by my blonde compatriot, I would be dead bored. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my friends. I had just gotten used to a life somehow more exciting, even if the people on tour did less than we were doing.

Cramming people into the hot tub enlivened things a bit, between the guys trying not to be too overt in perving on Beth in a bathing suit and everyone but me deciding it was a great idea to play “Are You Nervous?” I kick ass at the game, but I didn’t look forward to explaining to Ryan why I had a mark on my neck that he didn’t give me.

My back hurt the next morning. I knew I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the papasan chair, but Beth and I tended to get absorbed into conversation and not pay attention to the time, not to mention she found it amusing, what I said in my sleep.

After I made breakfast, we sat around watching terrible television and waiting for the guys to come over; when they did, they strolled right in and made themselves comfortable. Sean at least was courteous enough to make himself a cup of tea, as opposed to Jesse and Matt, who simply stole slurps from my mug.

Even though we didn’t do anything all morning, it was fun and it felt oddly like home. Maybe that was what had been bothering me all this time, basically since we’d come back from Warped Tour last summer; I felt eternally nomadic. We all talked and joked and generally lazed around, with the exception of Matt having a very subtle “holy shit I think my brain’s going to explode” expression upon coming back from the bathroom.

I decided not to ask.

“Well, I’m off,” I announced, getting up from the couch after an enrapturing episode of “Iron Chef.”

“You’re leaving me alone with them?” Beth asked, pushing out her lower lip.

I raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at her in Jesse’s lap. “Yeah, Ryan and I are going to go flaunt our relationship for the media.” The four of them stared at me blankly; I shrugged and picked up Matt’s discarded hoodie. “His idea. I had nothing to do with it.”

I grinned around my straw at Ryan as we strolled, fingers linked, through the mall downtown towards Bloomingdale’s. He was doing the classic celebrity I’m-incognito-and-nobody-can-see-me thing and wearing his designer sunglasses. So far we’d attracted quite a bit of attention, idly picking through expensive clothes (mostly talking about what travesties the fashion industry made of people), laughing, and making little PDAs.

“Are you sick of this yet?” I asked, swinging our hands between us. “I mean, I’m running out of lip-gloss.”

Ryan snickered, stealing my iced tea. “You’re asking if I’m sick of kissing you?”

“…Alright, point taken.” He handed back the plastic cup and I momentarily abandoned him to empty the ice into the trash and recycle the container. Ryan cocked his head at me as we continued walking. “…I’m a lefty tree-hugger who went to a cause-driven prep school. You expect me to throw away plastic?”

“Of course not,” he replied, holding the glass door open for me, “I was just wondering if those girls are going to follow us in.” I glanced around and caught site of a trio of skinny-jeaned, ballet-flatted, scene-haircutted teens, whispering excitedly and clutching digital cameras. “They’ve been trailing us since Hot Topic.”

“Maybe they’re shy,” I reasoned acerbically. “Maybe their little hearts are flutter at the mere idea of talking to someone so devastatingly gorgeous and impossibly talented.” I flung my hand against my forehead and pretended to faint.

Ryan rolled his eyes and set his sunglasses atop his head. “Or maybe they’re scared shitless of the redheaded Amazon he’s shopping with.”

I grinned and tossed a tie at him. “I was talking about me, Mister Ego.”

Just for fun I decided to try on this black and red dress that I spotted. Although it was miraculously in my size, I knew that it was cut for someone with no chest, not to mention it was a bit short. So modelling it for whoever happened to be out waiting would be fun.

The skirt swished around my hips as I turned in the cubicle; the top barely covered my bra, but it was tight enough to push everything up. I poked my head out, immediately catching the attention of the attendant. She waved me away when I asked if I could show my boyfriend, and I sauntered out of the dressing room in my holey, beat-up Converse and a six-hundred-dollar dress.

I put my hands on my hips, smirking slightly. Ryan’s stalkers had gotten the spine to talk to him. Guess he was right then, I thought, clearing my throat. They all turned and four sets of eyes widened. I put a hand out and leaned against the wall. “I think it needs hooker-boots,” I said, trying to keep the grin from knocking my head off.

“Your corset would go nicely too,” Ryan put in, eyes roving up and down. The trio of girls were whispering again, looking at me like they wanted to ask for boy tips and then rip me apart. And that just made me grin.

“Well, if we’re going for the corset, why not go all out and get a damn riding crop? I’m sure Beth has one she’d be willing to lend.”

He just laughed while I grinned toothily and the girls looked scandalised. No, Beth would make me buy my own riding crop; she wouldn’t want it back after I was done with it. “Kinky,” Ryan commented. “So are you getting that dress?”

“Nah, I don’t need it.” I winked at the girls as I turned. “I’ll leave you to your admirers, love.”

I laughed all the way through getting dressed and kept chuckling at random intervals on the drive to his hotel. Ryan shook his head in the passenger seat of my car. “You are so evil to fans,” he said, amused. “Now people are going to think I’m dating a stripper or something.”

“Or a dominatrix,” I added lightly, shrugging. “The look on the blonde one’s face makes me think I’ll be bisexual as well. And despite what some of the guys would like to think, that one time on Warped— oh, speak of the devil.” My phone was blasting the Academy Is…; I handed it to Ryan, who flipped it open and set it to speaker. “I was just talking about you.”

“What hotel is Ryan staying at?” Beth asked promptly. I frowned slightly; there were the sounds of traffic in the background.

“The Cathedral Hill on Van Ness,” Ryan replied, glancing at me. “Room 309. Why?”

“…I’ll explain when I get there.” Click.

Ryan and I exchanged a look. “Well that’s not ominous.”

About half an hour after we got to the room, a knock came at the door. Beth, makeup smudged, stood behind it when Ryan opened the door; she swept past him, sat on the couch, and clung to me so fiercely I almost fell over. Ryan opened his mouth, and I shook my head, petting her hair and mouthing ‘coffee’.

“Men are evil,” Beth muttered into my shoulder after a few minutes.

“Can’t argue with you there,” I said softly. “What happened?”

She half-straightened, still clutching my hand, and brushed her hair out of her face. “We went to lunch, and he’d been acting kind of weird since we left—kind of jittery. Halfway through eating he asks me if there’s anything I want to tell him. And I stare at him, because you don’t ask that question unless you know someone’s hiding something. No, I say, why? And he just looks at me with those big stupid brown eyes and asks really quietly, ‘Beth, are you pregnant?’”

My mouth fell open, and I pursed my lips, about to ask. "So I just laugh and say, 'What, are you saying I'm fat?'" Beth continued, gesticulating with her hands, "And Jesse says that it's okay if I am, he's just freaked out because he's not old enough or mature or responsible enough to be a father, but he's not pressuring me to do anything I don't want to do."

Ryan was leaning against the stove with his arms crossed, listening intently. "I can't think of anything to say— I mean, really what can you say when your boyfriend accuses you of being knocked up?—so I just left. Called a cab. He follows me out of the restaurant, asks again, are you pregnant? and I tell him no, dammit, I'm not. But he keeps rambling about how we could deal: be parents together, get a place wherever I wanted, talk to our parents... So I just ran; got in the cab and told the cabbie to drive fast."

Beth was ranting, speech fast and varied, so I knew this was genuinely worrying her. With anyone else, they would have sounded like a complete airhead, but Beth never sounded anything less than brilliant. Only now she was trying to keep a level head on something that freaked her out.

A cup was set in front of us on the table. Ryan threw himself casually into a chair. "Did he say why he thinks he knocked you up?" he asked.

My friend glared at him as she sipped her straight black coffee; I winced just watching it go down. "Lawrie told him," she declared coldly. I covered my eyes. Matt, you idiot. "Apparently he found a pregnancy test in the trash in Angie's bathroom and informed the tall one."

My hand slipped down and I blinked, confused. "Matt found a pregnancy test in my bathroom and assumed you were pregnant." I rolled my eyes, leaning back into the couch. "Jesus, why can't they ever have a logical train of thought? Anyway, have you...?"

"No, of course not," she said dismissively. "I'm not stupid. Can you really see me with kids?"

"...Do you really want an answer to that?" Ryan asked sceptically. Beth rolled her eyes; I think she liked pretending he didn't exist better. "Well, can you really blame the guy? It's kind of a big issue if your girlfriend is pregnant."

I turned slowly to stare at him as Beth talked. "Um, hell yes I can blame him. He knows how I feel about that, and if I was pregnant, I'd be smarter than to drop the evidence where anyone can find it." She flashed a smile at me, though I scarcely noticed. "Congrats, you're going to be an auntie, but it's not my spawn."

"People lie, Beth," Ryan reminded shortly. "Plus I wouldn't put it past you to tell him you weren't pregnant and then run off so you wouldn't have to burden him with it."

"Do you," Beth queried coolly, "think so little of my character? I'm selfless, but I'm not that brave." I stood sharply and strode across the room to grab my bag. "Where are you going?"

I stopped as I flung open the door and looked over my shoulder. Both stared, but neither moved. So I shook my head, walked out, and slammed the door behind me. I paused and unclenched my jaw, just in time to hear Beth's muffled voice say, "That, by the way, was the And I'm Not Coming Back walk."

I chuckled slightly as I took off down the hallway. That little laugh didn't make up for the fact that everything I saw was coated in red. It was difficult, walking down to elevator and then to my car, but somehow I made it without screaming; I even managed to smile at the desk clerk who told me to have a nice day. But once I shut my car door...

The Damned don't scream that loud for that long.

My head was spinning, which wasn't unusual after long sets or screaming, and I was thankful for the padded cover on the steering wheel. I wanted to cry—I felt I deserved it—but I felt too angry to be miserable.

After a few long minutes of just sitting and trying to decide whether to be a girl and cry or be a tomboy and hit something, a tap sounded on the window. With a sigh I unlocked the doors. "I figured you'd be down sooner or later," I said as Beth climbed into the passenger seat. I started the car and slowly drove out of the parking structure, deciding at the booth to charge it to Ryan's room.

"Well, you know I can't stand to be alone with him for too long," she replied. "And if you don't mind me asking, what was that dramatic, albeit very well-done, statement for?"

I sighed in aggravation as I turned onto the busy street. "He hasn't learned."

Beth arched an eyebrow at me. "Far be it for me to point out that boys are harder to train than dogs—"

"He hasn't learned that I value trust more than almost anything," I explained, being overly careful in traffic. I didn't want to get either of us killed, and driving while emotional was generally a bad idea. "Fuck chemistry and compatibility and all the other stupid things people lie about and say they look for. Give me a guy who'll trust me and whom I can trust." I gave a sheepish half-smile. "And who won't bore me to death, but I said almost."

Beth smiled. "You know what we need?" she asked rhetorically.

"What do we need?" I was never good with not answering rhetorical questions, but too many things that we needed leapt to mind.

"We need a serious change of scene." I glanced over her questioningly. The glint in her pale blue eyes scared most people, but it fascinated and interested me. "And now that you're legal, we don't have to ask anyone."

I bit my lip as I merged onto the freeway, heading south towards my parents' houses. "Why do I feel like this is running away?"

Beth turned up the volume on the stereo, Cobra Starship pouring out through the battered speakers. "Consider it a strategic retreat."