Flipping Coins

Maybe I had spoken too soon. No, I had spoken too soon.

The next day, a Friday, Brendon quite unexpectedly barged into my office at a record time of a minute until 7 P.M.

“Are you aware that the elevator that leads up to your office smells like hot ass?”

Now there's a conversation starter.

I peered up from behind my computer’s illuminated shut down screen and responded nonchalantly, “Natives. They don’t understand the meaning of a ‘shower’ here.”

Brendon puckered his lips into a shape of an O while he simultaneously nodded his head. Then, he quite rudely leap-frogged over one of my guest chairs before slamming his hands onto my now spacious desk’s top. Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed, boring into mine as he muttered, “I, Brendon ‘Bad Ass’ Urie, command you, Emie ‘Lame-o’ Brooks, to go out to dinner with me tonight or else….” His eyebrows leapt up in a creepy suggestive way, and a corrupt expression crossed his face.

I leaned forward and finished steadily, “Or else you’ll send an army of fan girls to flood my inbox with threat mail?”

Brendon smirked. “Worse. Let’s just say, you’re going to be dead, but still alive. You’ll be the bad guy, but, at the same time, want to be the good guy. You’ll be heartless, but can still feel.”

Gasping, I cried out, “Please tell me you’re didn’t land me a cast spot on Twilight! Say it isn’t so!”

With a heinous grin that should have been illegal to have on such a beautiful face, Brendon answered coolly, “Yes, Emie, yes. You will play a huge part in the destruction of true goths, and the upbringing of vamp-lovers.”

“And just when the goths had finally moved from ‘Possibly Extinct’ to ‘Threatened’ on the Endangered Species list. Damn.” I snapped my fingers dramatically for emphasize.

Brendon giggled like a girl and grabbed my hand, lifting me to my feet. Ignoring the electric currents sparking from Brendon’s warm touch, I asked, “Where are we going to eat?”

To me, Brendon’s fingers seemed to be locked on mine for a couple of seconds longer than necessary, but that could just be the hormones talking. When Brendon finally let go, he motioned his arm to the door, basically telling me to go ahead of him like he was some sort of gentleman that made up the rules.

In response, Brendon mischievously answered, “You will find out soon enough, m’dear.”

I didn’t ask any further questions, but shot Brendon an agitated glance, snatched up my sweater and purse, before I led the way out of my office, into the smelly elevator.

While waiting for the elevator’s directory pad to switch from 4 to 1, an odd sort of silence penetrated the atmosphere between me and Brendon, causing me to fidget uncomfortably. It wasn’t awkward, just weird. It’s nearly impossible to explain the feeling.

Out of nowhere, Brendon whispered quietly, “I like your outfit tonight.”

I couldn’t help but to turn my head and study his soft expression. He wasn’t looking at me, but staring straight forward, slightly pink in the cheeks. What was this about? Since when did my outfits start deserving compliments? And from Brendon, of all people?

I tried to keep the confusion out of my voice as I responded, “Thanks. It was Casual Friday, so I didn’t have to be so formal, you know.”

Brendon nibbled on the edge of his prominent lips, but made no motion that confirmed that he had heard my words. Even more perplexed, I turned my head back forward and studied my outfit.

It was honestly nothing special: A blue Hard Rock Café t-shirt coupled with light blue jeans that were held to my waist by a colorful Superman belt. My shoes were just some flimsy Indie flats I had bought from a local flea market. Did you see anything unique about my mellow choice of clothing? I sure as hell didn’t.

In order to extinguish the now intensely uncomfortable silence, I cleared my throat and said, “Where’s Evelia?”

Brendon shifted, keeping his gaze locked on the elevator’s doors. “She--um--needed some alone time. She thinks she’s failed her social studies final exam, and she’s very upset. I couldn’t handle it, and neither could she.”

Great, so I was a last resort to escape tension? That put the cherry on top of this visit.

As if he had read my mind, Brendon quickly explained, “But it’s not like I’m using you to get away from her. I said I wanted to hang out with you this weekend, and I meant it. We won’t be able to do this for a while, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” I mumbled with a slight groan, knowing he had heard it even though it had been almost inaudible.

I could see Brendon smile at me from my peripheral vision, but chose to ignore it. The number 1 ignited a sudden bright shade of digital green, and the silver doors surged open. We walked out of the building with a much more comfortable feeling in our surroundings rather than the weird or awkward one that had haunted us in the elevator. I smiled in spite of myself, knowing this was going to be a good night to replace the previously depressing one from yesterday.

Brendon decided for me that we were going to go in his car when he shot me a stern, disapproving glimpse as I strayed instinctively towards my own car. So, with a smile, I trotted back his way and hopped into his less-than-modern, 69’ Mustang.

“That’s more like it,” Brendon muttered with another mischievous grin. He started the rowdy, purring engine, turned the already uproarious rock music on even louder, and then shot out of the nearly deserted parking lot at lightening speed.

When we arrived a few minutes later, I was fairly sure that there were cartoon stars revolving around my head as I stumbled out of the car. Brendon, however, leapt out cheerily like everything was as dandy as ever, even whistling a benign tune while tossing his keys into the air and catching them.

I gave him a disbelieving look and remained planted to where I was standing. Brendon looked at me and broke into a blinding grin, laughing. “Oh come on! You’re so overreacting! I didn’t even hit 120.”

My mouth and eyebrows dropped lower, and Brendon laughed even louder at my expression. He scurried to my side and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, dragging me into the restaurant I’d failed to take notice of due to an abrupt shot of adrenaline that, to this very day, still has an unknown motive. [/sarcasm]

“Brendon, where exactly are we again?” I asked, flicking his arm off my shoulder and studying the barely occupied vicinity.

The place was a mediocre-sized, dimly lit building with small tables set up along the walls. Waiters and waitresses that were working wore casual, everyday clothes; the only thing that distinguished them apart from the customers was the fact that they wore tiny, plaid green caps on their heads. But the huge factor that absorbed my attention was the tremendous stage set up in the middle of the room. There, a karaoke machine was set up, along with a fancy display of dancing, multi-colored lights with tiny wisps of smoke spurring from here and there.

Brendon ignored my bothersome taps and said with humor planted in his tone, “Where are we? Can’t you read, Ems?”

I could, indeed, read. It was only then that I had noticed the huge banner pinned to the ceiling that read in rainbow-colored, bubble letters: THE HUMBLE HUT. Well, if you ask me, this joint wasn’t all-too humble.

Catching my expression, Brendon leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Irony.”

Before I could react, a clean-cut waiter appeared in front of us and asked politely over the jazzy tunes, “Would you two like to be seated now?”

Brendon, arm still draped over my shoulder, nodded and pulled me along after the waiter that led us to a table near the corner. Once we both chose our seats on either side and were handed menus, the waiter left us with our drink orders in mind, leaving Brendon to watch me.

“So what do you think? Bad ass, right?” Brendon leaned back in his chair so far that only two legs of the metallic chair kept him balanced.

I shrugged. “As long as you’re paying, any place is bad ass in my opinion.”

Brendon laughed, but was cut short by an energetic, loud voice that boomed, “Hi everybody! My name is Letty!” Everyone’s attention turned toward the huge stage where a tiny Asian waitress stood, beaming at her audience. “I’m a waitress here at the internationally famous Humble Hut, and I’m going to start the first song of the night. So, enjoy!”

The beginning guitar notes of Michelle Branch’s 'Breathe' began, and then came Letty’s smooth, perfect voice singing in sync with the barely audible, guiding background voice….

So just give me one good reason.
Tell me why I should stay
Cause I don’t want to waste another moment
Saying things we never meant to say….

The song passed by fast, and even when our food was placed before us, I could only focus on her soaring voice. The next second, Letty was bowing in conclusion to the applauding audience. She smiled and shouted, “Thank you, everyone! You’re all too kind, really. Now, do I have any takers? Does someone here wish to put my singing to shame?”

Brendon looked at me pointedly, and I shook my head worriedly. “Brendon,” I scolded. “You know that I am not a singer. You, on the other hand….”

Brendon grinned. “Is that a bet? Ok, deal then. I’ll go, and then you have to go.”

I tried to snap back my rejection, but Letty called out again over me, “Anybody? Come on! Somebody must have guts here!”

Brendon shot me another smirk before he jumped to his feet and embarrassingly shouted, “This sounds like a job for The Brave Brendon!” How original.

Letty gave Brendon a grateful smile as he pranced up the steps to the stage. She said, “Ok, well give it up for a Mister Brave Brendon---“

“The Brave Brendon,” corrected Brendon reproachfully.

Letty smiled. “Excuse me, The Brave Brendon is going to sing for us, so be kind and have fun!” With that, she handed the mic to my A.D.D diagnosed friend and scurried off the stage, clueless to how she had just sealed the deal to a compromise that I didn’t even agree to.

Brendon smiled to the applauding crowd, loudly greeting, “Good evening! I am The Brave Brendon, and I will be singing you a personal favorite song of mine. I think you’ll like it if you get passed my amateur singing, of course. So, yeah. Here it goes.”

Despite my anger, I cat-whistled and screamed, “Go Brendon!” a few times before the music actually began.

As soon as the first note boomed, I could have almost died laughing.

Brendon smiled as he sang the words:

Give it to me baby, uh huh, uh huh
Give it to me baby, uh huh, uh huh
Give it to me baby, uh huh, uh huh
And all the girlies say I'm pretty fly for a white guy
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, cinco, seis
You know it’s kinda hard just to get along today
Our subject isn't cool, but he thinks it anyway….

Offspring’s ‘Pretty Fly for a White Guy’ filled the air, and soon everyone was joining in with my howling laughter as they realized what song it was. Brendon just took the fire the crowd was sending his way and used it to his own advantage. He wasn’t even looking at the lyrics anymore, but trotting all over the grand stage, flailing his arms and doing little dances every time there was a pause in the song. He met my eyes several times, and only smiled bigger when our lines of visions connected.

The song ended with Brendon smacking his applebottom butt, and the applause was deafening. Someone even threw a bra at him! (I advise you to not ask.)

When the claps and whistles died down, Brendon said, “Thanks for that, guys. It really means a lot.” Someone shouted ‘Encore!’, and I silently blessed them for saying it. “You bet your sorry ass I will give you one hell of an encore, but this time, I will not act alone.”

Oh no.

Sure enough, Brendon met my eyes and grinned, motioning for me to come up. “Please welcome my partner in crime, Emie Brooks!”

Everyone looked up at me and began to cheer my name. I was not, in any way possible, a singer, but I was one to be persuaded easily. It was another flaw of mine. Number Two-Thousand and Three, in fact….

So, being that it may that I was easily taken advantaged of, I smiled and got up, walking unsurely to the stage where Brendon was cheering along with everyone else.

When I stepped into the spotlight, Brendon handed me another mic, still grinning. “We’re going to sing a Paul Oakenfold favorite of mine, ‘Starry Eyed Surprise’. Hope you guys like it! Oh, and go easy on the gal!”

I shot him an incredulous look but shifted my shoulders, ready to take on the song even though I knew I would get booed. Brendon picked the song off the karaoke machine before he whispered in my ear, “You take the chorus, and I’ll tackle verses.”

“Screw you,” I whispered back with an evil smirk. “I take the verses, and you can sing the chorus with me, if you can keep up.”

Brendon smiled warmly, giving me a look that I couldn’t read at all, but had seen before. But before I could try and sort out the emotion in his dark eyes, the music started. I turned back to the screen swimming with green letters waiting to be lit yellow, and began.

The song went well, surprisingly enough. I did mess up a few times, though. But it was a rap song, for goodness sakes! It was bound to happen. I don’t think anyone even noticed besides Brendon, who gave me encouraging grins nonetheless.

By the last chorus, Brendon and I were swaying our arms in the air and bouncing on our knees in sync, the crowd following our example. When the end came, Brendon wrapped an arm around my shoulder and smiled at the whistling audience. “Thanks guys! I think our legacy must live on through your memories from this point on, though. We have to get home.”

The crowd groaned in response, and I shouted into my own microphone, “But spread the word around that The Brave Brendon and The Enduring Emie are hardcore! Maybe then our prayers will be answered, and we’ll be famous one day!”

Brendon chuckled beside me and steered me off stage, out of the door, and outside into the thrilling, refreshing night air. I did catch Brendon handing our waiter a 50 dollar bill on our way out, and decided to sneak him 25 dollars later on when he wasn’t looking, otherwise I’d just get it back through and through.

I turned to Brendon and screamed, “Bren! That was so indescribably insane!”

Brendon laughed. “I know! I’ve been going there for about four years now, but this was the best time by far.”

“How could you have hid this place from me for so long?” I accused, crossing my arms.

Brendon only smiled. “Well, I honestly forgot about it. I used to come here all the time when I was 17 to practice my singing, but over the years it faded from my memory, I guess. Today was the first time I’ve been here and actually performed since…two years?”

“Well, we should make this our regular joint,” I stated, giving a confident nod.

Brendon grinned and pointed to his car. “We should probably get you home. You look so tired.”

“I do?” I asked, sighing when I knew he was right. I didn’t sleep at all last night.

Casting me a sympathetic smile, Brendon opened the door for me before walking to his own side.

This time, the music was soft and slow, just like his driving was. I could feel Brendon shooting me looks every now and then, but I tried to ignore them. I could feel this connection, and my brain instantly confirmed it as wrong. It shouldn’t be there, but I didn’t exactly wish for it to go away. It felt kind of…nice.

We finally arrived at my apartment building, and Brendon shut off the humming car, cutting ‘God of Wine’ short.

After a tiny silent moment, I realized something. “Shit! My car! It’s still at work!”

“I’ll get it for you tomorrow, before you even wake up. I swear,” Brendon quickly promised, obviously feeling as though it were his fault.

I shook my head. “No, it’s alright. Ryan can drop me off on the way back tomorrow.”

Brendon shifted a little in his seat. “You have plans with Ryan tomorrow?” he asked, his voice monotone.

Actually, I was supposed to babysit Fran’s niece so she could go out with Ryan, but Brendon wasn’t supposed to know about Fran. Brendon had a reputation for letting out secrets, you see. His middle name might as well be ‘The Little Birdie.’

So, avoiding his dark eyes, I said, “Yeah--uh--Ryan needs a breakfast partner. Can’t eat by himself or else it’s weird. Personally, I think he is just a weirdo in general.”

Brendon looked at me for a minute, a single silent and long one, before he whispered, “Emie, why are you lying to me?”

At the sound of the overwhelming hurt in his voice, I had to turn to look at Brendon. He was eyeing me, pain swimming through his dark eyes while his lips were tightly closed, waiting for my reply.

It was hard to find my voice. “I--I’m not---“

“We both know you are,” Brendon interrupted me, fishing his eyes to his lap. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

I swallowed hard. “But, there’s nothing to tell---“

“Fuck!” Brendon suddenly shouted, his eyes wild. “Just say it, Emie! Just fucking say it! You love Ryan! Don’t you? Just say it!”

I was shocked. Through my stunned state, I found the soft words, “Bren, you have it all wrong….”

Brendon ignored me. “Ryan loves you back, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he?! That asshole! You made me feel bad for not telling you about a stupid karaoke bar when you had this whole damn affair going on behind my back! Are you two taking it slow, at least? I'll bet he's fucked you alread---"

“Brendon!” I yelled, now angry. “Of course he hasn’t--wouldn’t do that! We’re not even in love in that sense! Where the hell are you getting this from?”

Brendon looked at me, disgust in his eyes. “You know damn well where I’m getting this from. You’re always doing stuff with him. He constantly talks about you like you're some damn goddess, always stuttering when he does it too like he’s nervous. Your expression when you saw him naked told me everything I needed to know. Godammit, Emie! How could you do this to me?”

Smoothing my hair back, I sighed and began quietly, “You assume things too often, Bren. Ryan and I are good friends, and he’s like my personal Doctor Phil and helps me with…my problems. Vice versa from me to him.”

I blew out a deep breath, knowing I was going to have to betray someone either way, so I said it, “Truth is, Ryan has a girlfriend named Francine that he doesn’t want much people to know about for publicity harassing reasons, you understand from Keltie’s experience. When he talks about me, he really means Fran but tries to cover it up with my name in front of you guys. That’s probably why he stutters. When I saw him naked, I knew that the whole act, well, the beginning of it, was intended for Fran. That’s why I was so reactant about it. I swear, I have no interest in Ryan, and I'm sure I can truthfully say the same from Ryan to me, too. It's just...it's just weird to even think about...well, you get the picture."

Brendon simply stared at me, trying to go through my reasons and match them up. He shook his head after while like a wet dog and softly apologized, “Emie, I’m so sorry. You’re right. Totally right. I feel like a fucking idiot right now! It’s just that, my two best mates hooking up…it’s a lot to take in, you know. That’s why I was so mad, and I’m sorry for that. I had no jurisdiction---“

“Yeah, whatever.” With a sigh, I swallowed the thick bubble of emotion clinging dryly to my esophagus and gave him a weak smile. “You sound like a moron.”

Brendon smiled back just as feebly and asked slowly, “So…does that mean you forgive me?”

“Basically.” I sniffed, feigning annoyance.

Brendon’s big lips upturned. “What do you mean by 'basically?'”

“Well,” I answered stealthily, sweeping my hair back as though I were some pop star. “I have a favor to ask you before there will be any true 'forgiving' done around here.”

He leaned in, curious. “What kind of favor?”

I looked at him dead-on, scooted closer slightly, and questioned softly, “Are you going to do it, no matter what it is? Do you promise?”

Brendon’s eyes darted all over my face. He licked his lips and bit his lip slightly before he whispered, “Yeah, I promise.”

I leaned in closer to him, too close. His eyes shifted, but he didn’t make a move to back away. Resisting the urge to smile, I waited until he came 2% closer before I breathed, “You have to go home right now, and be there for Evelia, no matter how bitchy she is, no matter how much you don’t want to.” With that, I backed away, blew a kiss at the perplexed Brendon, and got out of the car.

“Whoa, Emie! Wait---“

I slammed the door on his words, laughing despite the fact that Brendon was still staring at me, and I waved a goodbye before I skipped into my apartment’s building.