Radiant Eclipse

A week after the get together at the studios I got a phone call from Brad saying that we were going to leave next Saturday, only five days away. He expected me at the studios once more, as we were going to go over some of the main courses of action for the whole tour, like stops and things we can do or shouldn't do. After he hung up on me, I slammed the home phone on the receiving dock and swore so loud that I could see my neighbor look towards my house curiously. Instead of going with the wrong way of getting out of going, like drinking myself into oblivion and saying that I was just getting over a virus, I actually decided I'd better go and make the band look responsible and honest. Why not? Maybe I'd get a longer vacation next time around if I just went with the game for a few months.

I jumped in the shower where I almost slipped and fell on my ass, only I grabbed onto a rail and steadied myself, thinking, One of these days, I'm going to kill myself from sheer clumsiness. Only this time there's no coming back to life.

Wearing a black strapless dress with a fitted waist, and a four-tiered skirt, I walked about my bedroom thinking of what to do with my hair. It was feeling dull, too normal, so I went to my bathroom where I grabbed a bottle of left over red hair dye, and, amazingly, had enough to do my entire head. Pleased with the length and flattering messy style, I slipped my slender feet into a neat pair of black patent heels with an adjustable strap and peep toe. They added almost six inches to my normally shorter than average height of five feet, and as I applied smokey black eye make-up and a pink lip gloss I said, "Damn, girly. I'd tap you."

Then I realized that I'd never been tapped before, so I wouldn't know.

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I took a seat beside Brad and James when I arrived at the board meeting room of Ocean Ways Studios, Brad eying me with a look much like worry. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked me, as I crossed my legs and slapped my purse onto the large wooden table meant for thirty or so people.

"Yeah," I replied stiffly, facing down at my lap as I crossed my arms, the rest of the main bands arriving shortly. "Why? Shouldn't I be? I didn't know I wasn't allowed to be content. My bad."

"I didn't say that," he whispered defensively as James watched from the corner of his eye.

"Fuck off, Brad," I said jokingly as he shook his head with a sigh and pretended like we hadn't been talking to one another. When I eventually brought my gaze up from my legs I found Johnny seated directly across from me, his hair done in a short Mohawk as the rest of his head was pretty much bald. He smiled at me for a second before I nodded and looked away towards our managers at the front of the room.

Man I could go for a drink, I thought to myself, unaware that I was fumbling with a chain on my purse with a slightly loud distracting noise to it. No one seemed to be bothered by it, though, so I continued until I decided I'd had enough and went to the bathroom, my skirt letting a breeze get caught up in it as I waltzed around the table, past Johnny, and out through the double doors.

Not actually having to go pee, I leaned myself up against a wall in the hallway where I sighed and held my head in my hands, the ache of depression starting its tole once again. I got it monthly, maybe even weekly, this feeling that nothing around me was real, and if it was, there was no way I was going to be able to keep living. I'd made the mistake of telling Brad this once, and no whenever I even so much as looked tired he thought I was going to commit suicide again. He didn't seem to get that I was over that. At least, I was over the one time I attempted to.

I looked up when I heard the door open, and found Johnny closing it behind him quietly. He smiled and asked faintly, "Do you want company? 'Cause, I'm bored as hell in there,"

"Free country," I replied, nodding towards the wall I was up against. He took a spot beside me as I eyed him wonderingly. "I don't need to go over this crap every single time i go on tour. I've heard for the past eight years. I know; no sexual gestures on stage, no making out with the fans if they're female and you're being watched by viewers at home. I know all that bullshit."

"Maybe they feel you're a little kid," he stated. "Kids need repetition."

"I'm not a kid," I said harshly, offended by the idea that they thought I was even slightly childish.

He fell silent and apologized. "I didn't mean I thought you were. I was just trying to be funny. I'm sorry if I offended you, Vickie."

Shrugging, I said, "Whatever. You're new to my stupid game of socializing, so I'll cut you some slack. Fuck...Can we just leave? Or do I honestly have to be here?"

"I don't know," he answered with about the same wonder as me.

Looking at him from head to toe and back up once more, I said," Well I'm leaving. If you want to follow you can. But I really don't feel like spending one of my last vacation days in a hot board room."

He chuckled as I headed towards the emergency exit at the end of hallway, his footsteps audible on the wood flooring as I pushed sunglasses onto the bridge of my nose. I strutted sincerely, whistling to myself with as much enjoyment as the moments before were unbelievably unbearable. Eventually Johnny wondered, "Where are we going?"

I turned to face him as I walked backwards in the direction of downtown, and replied, "Where do you want to go? Keep in mind I am in high heels."

He smiled as he caught up with me, and answered, "There's a coffee shop there on the corner. How about there?"

Without verbally agreeing with him, I turned back around and walked normally, purse slung on my left shoulder as I whistled a Guns 'N' Roses song loudly, a couple eying me oddly as they strolled past me hand in hand. Just out of curiosity, I politely asked him, "So are you married? Or anything as traumatic as that?"

We stopped at a crosswalk as he replied, "If I was, would I be taking you to coffee dressed in that?"

I glared at him.

"It was a compliment," he said quickly. "I just meant you look...You're dressed....Nice."

"Well you're swell with words, aren't you Porky the Pig?" I joked with a slight laugh as we walked hurriedly across the street. He blushed as I told him, "I knew what you meant. I was just kidding. And thanks. But you're also not taking me to coffee. We're just two people going to the same place. That's all."

"Is that what you say every time you go on a date?" he wisecracked.

I glared at him as I stated, "I don't date."

"Why not?" he asked, holding the door open for me as I headed into the aroma of sweet tea and coffee. "Everyone does to some extent."

Standing in line, I replied, "Not me. I think guys are all sexual predators at heart, and I honestly don't have the stomach for fish, so being a lesbian is out of the very screwed up picture that has become my life."

"That's messed up," he chuckled loudly, the people ahead of us glaring rudely before I stared them down and made a twirling gesture with my index finger for them to turn around. "Not all men are pigs, though," he explained. "Sure, we naturally want one thing, but it's because we want to make you happy, and we feel like it's the only thing we have to give you. Sorry if it's also how babies are created."

"Wow," I laughed sarcastically. "How long did it take you to come up with that? Do you usually tell girls that when you're on a date with them? Because that is class A work, right there."

"We're not on a date, remember?" he mocked.

"Shut up and get your coffee," I snapped, as he understood my humor and laughed to himself.

After we received our order of coffee from a young and cute brunette girl and were back at the studios twelve minutes later, Johnny said, "To reiterate my answer to one of your earlier questions, I'm not taken. Never been married, and never thought about it yet. Just thought I should make that clear."

I cocked my brow and wondered, "Why's that?"

He shrugged, and before walking away and into the meeting room once more, said, "Because I'm not every other guy. That's why."

Shocked, I stood in my place, straw from my cold drink stuck in between my lips as I blinked a few times over with a strange floating sensation in the pit of my stomach. Did he just say it to be honest, or was he trying to tell me something? The only idea that came to mind was that Johnny found me attractive. Truly attractive. He had to like something about me other than my big breasts and thin body if he was willing to stand around and talk to me during those moments where fate placed us near one another.

"You coming back in?" he asked, poking his head out of the door.

I nodded dumbly, and breathed for the first time since he'd left.