Car Stereo Diva
Track One.
Fall Out Boy
Ryan and Spencer were driving. There was no destination. Ryan liked to drive and every so often Spencer would get dragged along on one of his pointless “road trips” around Vegas. Currently, Ryan was flipping through the songs one of the of the most recent CDs he had burned.
Disney. LFO. Saving Jane. Fall Out Boy. Ashlee Simpson. One of their songs. Jeffree Star. A song that could have been theme music for a Lifetime movie.
”Once upon a dream . . . every other time . . . just the girl next door . . . sugar we’re going down . . . when I was invisible . . . snap your fingers for me . . . we want cunt . . . is all the weakness in me?”
“Ryan,” Spencer said, “you listen to the gayest music ever.”
Ryan gave him an odd look, continuing to hit the ‘forward’ button on the CD player.
Enya. Celine Dion. Vanessa Carlton. More Fall Out Boy. More Disney. Jessica Simpson. The Killers. Pink. A song from Moulin Rouge. A song from Chicago. Click Five.
Sail away, sail away, sail away . . . a new day has come . . . he was looking toward the sky . . . dance, dance . . . so this is love . . . a public affair . . . read my mind . . . just you and your hand tonight . . . I will love you until my dying day . . . could you tell me that I was wrong . . . just the girl I’m looking for.”
“Dude . . . I am so gay.” Ryan said, laughing as he looked at Spencer.
“I told you.”
Ryan ejected the CD and put in a different one. “Let’s listen to Fall Out Boy. That’s gay.”
Rockstar
Ryan had a rental car waiting at every venue. Ryan had to drive around whatever city they were playing in for at least thirty minutes. Ryan was a bit of a car stereo diva. He usually convinced the band, and always Spencer, to go with him using promises of Starbucks and driving by swimming pools. Ryan always drove. And the driver always controls the radio. The Universal Rule of the Road.
Ryan had been playing Rockstar by Nickelback on his iPod nonstop for about two weeks. He had shoved one of his earphones into Spencer’s ear more than once. ’Listen to this.’ ‘I have.’ ‘Listen to it again.’
Ryan sang loudly to the car radio, which was always turned up to the point of pedestrians glaring at it. Jon and Brendon were in the backseat, both playing on handheld video consoles. Spencer was in the front seat, getting hit in the arm every so often by Ryan for not singing.
Car stereo diva.
”The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap.
We’ll all stay skinny ‘cause we just won’t eat.”
“Check.” Brendon said, without looking up.
“What?” Jon asked.
“Ryan doesn’t eat anything.”
“Shut up! Yes, I do.”
The two boys in the back seat snickered.
”Every good gold digger’s gonna wind up there.
Every Playboy bunny with her bleach blonde hair.”
“Dude,” Brendon said, “we’ve been going to the wrong clubs.”
Ryan looked at him in the rearview mirror, face splitting into a smile as he laughed. “What?”
“Seriously, we’ve been going to the wrong clubs. What the hell clubs are they talking about?”
“. . . strip clubs?” Ryan suggested.
“We need to go to a strip club.” Brendon decided. “Let’s go to a strip club.”
“Now?” Ryan asked. “Only stupid pathetic guys without lives go to strip clubs during the day.” The four of them exchanged looks. “Well . . . we’re not stupid.” Ryan said.
“Well, we can’t go tonight because we have a show.”
“Well, we’re not going now because the hot strippers are at night.” Ryan said.
“How would you know?”
“Common knowledge, dumbass.”
“You’re both dumb.” Jon said from the backseat.
”Gonna date a centerfold that loves to blow my money for me.”
“Do you think I could get a Playboy centerfold?” Brendon asked.
“Yeah, they’re like five bucks at the gas station.” Spencer said.
Ryan’s laughter was nearly hysterical. “Do you want us to stop, Brendon?”
“You both suck.”
“At least I’m getting some then.” Ryan said.
“From a guy?”
“A fuck is a fuck, man.”
“You’re fucked up.”
“Up, down, diagonal, whatever.”
”Hey, hey. I wanna be a rockstar.”
Cute is What We Aim For
Ryan had on the huge sunglasses that Spencer hated. He had on one of those Americanized beret hats that were hitting the fashion scene. He had on white fingerless gloves, a black scarf, a black shirt, and dark blue jeans. Ryan was driving down the highway, going exactly sixty miles an hour.
He never went over the speed limit. Ryan took turns too quickly, flipped off drivers, and occasionally hit animals, but he never went over the speed limit. Spencer had been in the car with Ryan and his mother when they drove by a car wreck. Both of them were getting ready to start Driver’s Ed. “That,” Ryan’s mother had said, pointing to the wreck, “is what happens when you drive too fast.”
Ryan never sped.
“What the hell are we listening to?” Jon asked from the backseat.
“Cute is What We Aim For.” Ryan and Brendon said at the same time. “He told me.” Brendon said defensively.
“They’re good.” Ryan said, bringing a hand up and pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m going to ask the singer to marry me.”
“You would.” Jon said, rolling his eyes.
“I’m going to fucking kill this guy.” Ryan said, gesturing at the car in front of him. “Seriously. Does anyone have a crowbar or something?”
“Yeah, Ryan.” Spencer said sarcastically. “I carry one in my back pocket. Let me get it for you.” He rolled his eyes.
”Apply that lip gloss like it’s your job.”
“I’m passing him on the right.” Ryan said. “Spencer, take the wheel when we’re passing him.”
“Ryan, you’re not—“
“Ryan’s flirting with drivers again!” Brendon called from the backseat, laughing.
The boy aggressively, without going over the speed limit, moved into the right lane. Spencer grabbed the wheel as Ryan rolled down his window, batting his eyelashes at the other driver and blowing kisses. He gave a giggle and a wave, laughing at the look he received. “I love you too, sweetie.” he called, blowing a final kiss before rolling his window back up and taking the wheel from Spencer.
“He’s going to kill you.” Brendon said.
“I’m—“
“No, seriously, he’s going to kill you. It looks like he’s going to run you off the road.” Spencer said, pointing.
“Motherfucker!” Ryan yelled, giving the guy the finger and speeding up, pulling into the lane in front of the other driver with barely two inches to spare between their fenders. Spencer grabbed the wheel when Ryan turned around, holding up both his hands, middle fingers up. “Fucker.” He turned back around and took the wheel once more.
“This is not road rage music.” Jon said.
“Helpful.” Brendon said, nodding.
“You both suck.”
Ryan and Spencer were driving. There was no destination. Ryan liked to drive and every so often Spencer would get dragged along on one of his pointless “road trips” around Vegas. Currently, Ryan was flipping through the songs one of the of the most recent CDs he had burned.
Disney. LFO. Saving Jane. Fall Out Boy. Ashlee Simpson. One of their songs. Jeffree Star. A song that could have been theme music for a Lifetime movie.
”Once upon a dream . . . every other time . . . just the girl next door . . . sugar we’re going down . . . when I was invisible . . . snap your fingers for me . . . we want cunt . . . is all the weakness in me?”
“Ryan,” Spencer said, “you listen to the gayest music ever.”
Ryan gave him an odd look, continuing to hit the ‘forward’ button on the CD player.
Enya. Celine Dion. Vanessa Carlton. More Fall Out Boy. More Disney. Jessica Simpson. The Killers. Pink. A song from Moulin Rouge. A song from Chicago. Click Five.
Sail away, sail away, sail away . . . a new day has come . . . he was looking toward the sky . . . dance, dance . . . so this is love . . . a public affair . . . read my mind . . . just you and your hand tonight . . . I will love you until my dying day . . . could you tell me that I was wrong . . . just the girl I’m looking for.”
“Dude . . . I am so gay.” Ryan said, laughing as he looked at Spencer.
“I told you.”
Ryan ejected the CD and put in a different one. “Let’s listen to Fall Out Boy. That’s gay.”
Rockstar
Ryan had a rental car waiting at every venue. Ryan had to drive around whatever city they were playing in for at least thirty minutes. Ryan was a bit of a car stereo diva. He usually convinced the band, and always Spencer, to go with him using promises of Starbucks and driving by swimming pools. Ryan always drove. And the driver always controls the radio. The Universal Rule of the Road.
Ryan had been playing Rockstar by Nickelback on his iPod nonstop for about two weeks. He had shoved one of his earphones into Spencer’s ear more than once. ’Listen to this.’ ‘I have.’ ‘Listen to it again.’
Ryan sang loudly to the car radio, which was always turned up to the point of pedestrians glaring at it. Jon and Brendon were in the backseat, both playing on handheld video consoles. Spencer was in the front seat, getting hit in the arm every so often by Ryan for not singing.
Car stereo diva.
”The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap.
We’ll all stay skinny ‘cause we just won’t eat.”
“Check.” Brendon said, without looking up.
“What?” Jon asked.
“Ryan doesn’t eat anything.”
“Shut up! Yes, I do.”
The two boys in the back seat snickered.
”Every good gold digger’s gonna wind up there.
Every Playboy bunny with her bleach blonde hair.”
“Dude,” Brendon said, “we’ve been going to the wrong clubs.”
Ryan looked at him in the rearview mirror, face splitting into a smile as he laughed. “What?”
“Seriously, we’ve been going to the wrong clubs. What the hell clubs are they talking about?”
“. . . strip clubs?” Ryan suggested.
“We need to go to a strip club.” Brendon decided. “Let’s go to a strip club.”
“Now?” Ryan asked. “Only stupid pathetic guys without lives go to strip clubs during the day.” The four of them exchanged looks. “Well . . . we’re not stupid.” Ryan said.
“Well, we can’t go tonight because we have a show.”
“Well, we’re not going now because the hot strippers are at night.” Ryan said.
“How would you know?”
“Common knowledge, dumbass.”
“You’re both dumb.” Jon said from the backseat.
”Gonna date a centerfold that loves to blow my money for me.”
“Do you think I could get a Playboy centerfold?” Brendon asked.
“Yeah, they’re like five bucks at the gas station.” Spencer said.
Ryan’s laughter was nearly hysterical. “Do you want us to stop, Brendon?”
“You both suck.”
“At least I’m getting some then.” Ryan said.
“From a guy?”
“A fuck is a fuck, man.”
“You’re fucked up.”
“Up, down, diagonal, whatever.”
”Hey, hey. I wanna be a rockstar.”
Cute is What We Aim For
Ryan had on the huge sunglasses that Spencer hated. He had on one of those Americanized beret hats that were hitting the fashion scene. He had on white fingerless gloves, a black scarf, a black shirt, and dark blue jeans. Ryan was driving down the highway, going exactly sixty miles an hour.
He never went over the speed limit. Ryan took turns too quickly, flipped off drivers, and occasionally hit animals, but he never went over the speed limit. Spencer had been in the car with Ryan and his mother when they drove by a car wreck. Both of them were getting ready to start Driver’s Ed. “That,” Ryan’s mother had said, pointing to the wreck, “is what happens when you drive too fast.”
Ryan never sped.
“What the hell are we listening to?” Jon asked from the backseat.
“Cute is What We Aim For.” Ryan and Brendon said at the same time. “He told me.” Brendon said defensively.
“They’re good.” Ryan said, bringing a hand up and pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m going to ask the singer to marry me.”
“You would.” Jon said, rolling his eyes.
“I’m going to fucking kill this guy.” Ryan said, gesturing at the car in front of him. “Seriously. Does anyone have a crowbar or something?”
“Yeah, Ryan.” Spencer said sarcastically. “I carry one in my back pocket. Let me get it for you.” He rolled his eyes.
”Apply that lip gloss like it’s your job.”
“I’m passing him on the right.” Ryan said. “Spencer, take the wheel when we’re passing him.”
“Ryan, you’re not—“
“Ryan’s flirting with drivers again!” Brendon called from the backseat, laughing.
The boy aggressively, without going over the speed limit, moved into the right lane. Spencer grabbed the wheel as Ryan rolled down his window, batting his eyelashes at the other driver and blowing kisses. He gave a giggle and a wave, laughing at the look he received. “I love you too, sweetie.” he called, blowing a final kiss before rolling his window back up and taking the wheel from Spencer.
“He’s going to kill you.” Brendon said.
“I’m—“
“No, seriously, he’s going to kill you. It looks like he’s going to run you off the road.” Spencer said, pointing.
“Motherfucker!” Ryan yelled, giving the guy the finger and speeding up, pulling into the lane in front of the other driver with barely two inches to spare between their fenders. Spencer grabbed the wheel when Ryan turned around, holding up both his hands, middle fingers up. “Fucker.” He turned back around and took the wheel once more.
“This is not road rage music.” Jon said.
“Helpful.” Brendon said, nodding.
“You both suck.”