Tired n' Lonely
3
I froze in shock... what the hell was he doing here?
“Just a minute!” I said, fumbling around in the semi-darkness of the room, which was only illuminated at all by the street lamps outside, until I found my keys and could let him in.
I opened the door to him and he immediately embraced me in a warm hug, as a cold gust of air followed him into the building.
“Nicky! It's been so long!”
“What on earth are you doing in Boston? And what an earth are you doing here?”
“I remembered you saying you stay here at weekends, thought I'd take a chance and see if you still did.”
“Well, nothing much has changed in my life. Not like you, eh, Mr. Rockstar?” I nodded towards the poster for his tour on the wall behind the till.
“The street team did manage to get here then... did you get my letter?”
“I did but... what are you doing here?” I was still rather shocked.
“I'm auditioning a member for a new band I'm working with, you might know him... short guy, black and red hair.... looks like a gothic Nikki Sixx.”
“That doesn't narrow it down.” I pointed at the extensive 'glam metal' section in the corner of the shop.
“Ah... well, anyway, as I was over here I thought I would drop by and see if you were still here... and if you were going to come and see me perform again?”
My heart sank.
“Joey, I would love to, I really would, it's just... my daughter has this thing and I can't let her down,”
he looked a little crestfallen himself, “believe me, I would really really have liked to see you again. And I want to see YOU again, when you come back. If you don't mind?”
“Is there really no way you can make it?” he asked, ignoring my previous statement.
“I don't know... hey, d'you want a drink?”
“Yeah that would be great.” He still sounded a little upset and I was rather confused as to why, but I ignored it in favour of shuffling back into my back room and turning on the small electric heater to combat the chill which seemed to have descended on the room with Joey's arrival. Amazing what opening that door for a few seconds did.
“Still got that whiskey from last time, I see.”
“Oh.. well, it's a new bottle of course.”
“That's a shame.”
“It is?”
“Well...” he blushed a little, fumbling in his bag for a second before pulling out the distinctive bottle with the silver ankh on it, “I kind of bought some for us... just in case.”
I blushed, mimicking him, “Oh, Joey, you shouldn't have. How did you remember after all this time?”
“It's a distinctive bottle. It wasn't anything special, don't worry.” He said, putting it down on the same upturned crate that had been here since I was a little girl.
I felt more than a little crushed at his casting off of the sentiment. I was silly to think he would have remembered because he liked me, of course it was because of the damned bottle.
“It is pretty awesome.” I mumbled.
“Hey.. you have my poster in here as well.” He grinned, walking over to the poster, and I went scarlet as I realised he would see that I had kept the clipping of the review from the gig 2 years ago, too.
“I do... fancy autographing it for me, Mr. Rockstar?”
“Hey, what's this?” Oh god, he saw the clipping... “Is this from out first gig here?”
“It is, yeah. I found it in the paper the next day and thought I'd keep something from before you were a big world famous stadium band, y'know?”
He laughed “Hey, we're not far off. This stop, US tour, next stop THE WORLD!” He laughed like a comic book super villain, then stopped abruptly leaving silence hanging, uncomfortably, in the air for a few seconds...time seemed to stand still... “Nicky?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I keep this?” He ran his hand across the news paper clipping. I must have looked hurt because he added “Sorry... I shouldn't have asked, it was just out first out of state gig and I don't have anything to remember it by.”
“It's fine, take it.” I said, peeling it carefully off the grey breezeblock wall and thrusting it towards him, “You'll need something to remember back when life was normal in a couple of years, eh, Mr. Rockstar... but you can only keep it on one condition.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah... when you're interviewed for Time or the Rolling Stone or whatever, and they say “Wow, Mr. Rockstar, you are so grounded, despite all your millions of dollars.” you have to tell them “Oh, well I owe it all to a little friend of mine from Boston.” OK?”
He laughed, “Ok, Nicky, you got a deal.” He folded it carefully and put it into the bag he had produced the whiskey from.
“So, how long are you staying for.”
“Actually, a few days. Though I'm staying with this guy I'm auditioning.”
“A few days for an audition?!”
“haha... Well, I am very thorough.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Well, that is good to hear. I hope you will have time to come and visit me though!”
“Of course I will.”
“So, what are we doing his fine evening?”
“Well.. if you don't mind.. I thought; pizza, whiskey and horror flicks.”
“Now that sounds divine.” It sounded like my average Friday night, but pizza, whiskey and the same films I watched week in week out really would be divine with someone to talk to, “so... you want to order in or go an pick it up ourselves?”
“It's a little cold outside.” He said, shyly.
“Order in it is.” I said, going over to the phone on the wall next to the slipknot poster.
I rang through and placed my order before passing the phone to him so he could place his order.
“Now... what do we do until the pizza arrives?” I asked as he hung up.
“What films do you have nowadays?”
“The Exorcist, Halloween and...”
“... Plan 9 for Outer Space?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I never met another Ed Wood fan before I met you, it kinds stuck with me.”
“So.... Plan 9 it is then?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I stuck the over played VHS in the machine and joined him on the couch.
“Hey... we have a bottle each.” He grinned, with one of the bottles of whiskey in his hand. This night was gonna get messy real quick.
I unscrewed the cap from my bottle and took a long sip.
We had not been sat there for long when the pizza arrived. I jumped up to pay but he insisted he was going to. I felt a chill as he opened the door, which lingered even after he had brought the pizzas into the room and lay them in front of the couch.
“So, do you ever go out at the weekends?” He asked me, with a slice of pizza in his hand
“Me? No.... Not really felt up to it since my husband died.”
“Even now?”
“Yeah. Everywhere round here reminds me of him. The places we used to go, the things we used to do.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“It's fine... My own fault for being so sentimental.”
“So you really don't ever go out.”
“Nope... Pizza and movies is the weekend standard for me.”
“You should have said, I would have suggested something else.”
“It's fine. It's nice to have company for once.”
“Are you sure you wouldn't like to do something different? I can phone this guy I'm auditioning, even movies and pizza at a different place would be a change, right?”
“No, it's fine... thanks for the offer though.”
As much as I hated the routine of my life, I had settled into it. I wished I could be a little more spontaneous, like him. Just dropping in to a friend in a whole other state.
“Well then, we better make tonight super fun!” He said, thrusting his bottle of whiskey towards me. I obligingly took it from him. Plan 9 was just about the best movie ever made when intoxicated with a friend, I discovered. We spoke about a lot of things. Anything which had nothing to do with my boring routine life.
I wished more than anything that just for one night I could be like him. That I could go to his gig, enjoy myself, not feel guilty about my kids. I was fed up of being 'mommy' and Ms. V Moore. I liked being Nicky, and with him I was always going to be Nicky.
He was a great friend to me, so easy to get along with. Things were a little different then though, it would be so hard to keep in touch, especially with him being on the road. He could write to me, but I had no way of writing back. I sighed... it was so typical of my life that I would meet a great new friend and have no way of keeping in touch with them. I missed my best friend more than anything. I could visit him in prison, but I couldn't do this sort of thing with him any more, and I missed adult human contact that wasn't someone asking my opinion on a new album.
OK, so we talked about new albums, that was beside the point. I enjoyed it when it was with him.
It wasn't long before we were both completely wasted, and entranced by Plan 9, which was nearly over. I didn't stand a chance of putting in another VHS in this state, but I could just about figure out the sound system. I had forgotten that Slipknot was in it.
“Hey, you really are a fan of mine, you weren't bullshitting.”
“Of course not. You guys are awesome. Especially you.” I was able to say this now as I was more than a little drunk.
“I am?” He leaned a little closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder.
“Oh yeah, you're like... Well, I don't know any real good drummers... someone in a black metal band I guess, as you drum super fast.”
“Aw... thanks... someday I'll be like Tommy Lee.”
“Tommy Lee? You're gonna get VD?”
“Noooo... I'm gonna play in the air and stuff, you know, like he does.”
“You're crazy, Mr. Rockstar.”
“In a good way?”
“Of course. I wish I could be crazy, sometimes.” My head was swimming and right now I didn't care about responsibility or recitals, I just wanted to be a normal 22 year old.
“So, do it. Do something crazy, then I can be Mr. Rockstar and you can be Crazy Nicky. Or something more catchy. I'll think of it when I'm sober.”
“Fuck it.” I grabbed his T-shirt at the chest and pulled him close to me so his face was inches from mine. I stared, drunkenly, into his intense blue eyes, “you really wanna see me do something crazy?”
He was silent, but nodded, and his lips parted slightly as he began to breathe a little heavier.
I continued to stare deep into his eyes for a second as my heart raced... then, as if I hadn't even done it myself at all, my lips were pressed fleetingly against his. I pulled back, surprised at what I had just done, but his arms were wrapped around me and he pulled me close to him again, and his lips were pressed gently against my own. My head was spinning. It felt like I was on some fairground carousel. My first kiss in three years and I was drunk. My eyes were closed... my head was spinning... when he puled away from me I realised we were lying down on the couch. He was ontop of me, his hands pinning me to the couch.
He smiled, suggestively, though I was a hell of a lot more sober now and I think he must have been as well.
“You know, I like Crazy Nicky.”
I closed my eyes for a second, and pushed him gently off me.
“I'm sorry, Joey, I didn't mean to do that... I've... we've both had a lot to drink.”
“It's OK. Still friends?” He held out his hand, and I shook it.
“Yeah, still friends. But no more Crazy Nicky. My daughter would kill me if she knew what I just did.”
“Hey... I think Crazy Nicky should come to my gig.”
“I told you I can't... my daughter is in a play that night.”
“You really can't make it?”
“Afraid not.”
“You can meet me afterwards though, right”
“I don't know... I have to take the kids to school in the morning...”
“Please, Nicky. I really like you. As a friend.”
“I can't I'm not like you. I can't just drop everything for one night.” I said, more than a little annoyed at his persistence, not least because it was reminding me of all the stuff I had to give up when my husband died.
“OK. I'm sorry.” He picked the whiskey up again, but this time it felt like we were drinking to drown our sorrows.
“Just a minute!” I said, fumbling around in the semi-darkness of the room, which was only illuminated at all by the street lamps outside, until I found my keys and could let him in.
I opened the door to him and he immediately embraced me in a warm hug, as a cold gust of air followed him into the building.
“Nicky! It's been so long!”
“What on earth are you doing in Boston? And what an earth are you doing here?”
“I remembered you saying you stay here at weekends, thought I'd take a chance and see if you still did.”
“Well, nothing much has changed in my life. Not like you, eh, Mr. Rockstar?” I nodded towards the poster for his tour on the wall behind the till.
“The street team did manage to get here then... did you get my letter?”
“I did but... what are you doing here?” I was still rather shocked.
“I'm auditioning a member for a new band I'm working with, you might know him... short guy, black and red hair.... looks like a gothic Nikki Sixx.”
“That doesn't narrow it down.” I pointed at the extensive 'glam metal' section in the corner of the shop.
“Ah... well, anyway, as I was over here I thought I would drop by and see if you were still here... and if you were going to come and see me perform again?”
My heart sank.
“Joey, I would love to, I really would, it's just... my daughter has this thing and I can't let her down,”
he looked a little crestfallen himself, “believe me, I would really really have liked to see you again. And I want to see YOU again, when you come back. If you don't mind?”
“Is there really no way you can make it?” he asked, ignoring my previous statement.
“I don't know... hey, d'you want a drink?”
“Yeah that would be great.” He still sounded a little upset and I was rather confused as to why, but I ignored it in favour of shuffling back into my back room and turning on the small electric heater to combat the chill which seemed to have descended on the room with Joey's arrival. Amazing what opening that door for a few seconds did.
“Still got that whiskey from last time, I see.”
“Oh.. well, it's a new bottle of course.”
“That's a shame.”
“It is?”
“Well...” he blushed a little, fumbling in his bag for a second before pulling out the distinctive bottle with the silver ankh on it, “I kind of bought some for us... just in case.”
I blushed, mimicking him, “Oh, Joey, you shouldn't have. How did you remember after all this time?”
“It's a distinctive bottle. It wasn't anything special, don't worry.” He said, putting it down on the same upturned crate that had been here since I was a little girl.
I felt more than a little crushed at his casting off of the sentiment. I was silly to think he would have remembered because he liked me, of course it was because of the damned bottle.
“It is pretty awesome.” I mumbled.
“Hey.. you have my poster in here as well.” He grinned, walking over to the poster, and I went scarlet as I realised he would see that I had kept the clipping of the review from the gig 2 years ago, too.
“I do... fancy autographing it for me, Mr. Rockstar?”
“Hey, what's this?” Oh god, he saw the clipping... “Is this from out first gig here?”
“It is, yeah. I found it in the paper the next day and thought I'd keep something from before you were a big world famous stadium band, y'know?”
He laughed “Hey, we're not far off. This stop, US tour, next stop THE WORLD!” He laughed like a comic book super villain, then stopped abruptly leaving silence hanging, uncomfortably, in the air for a few seconds...time seemed to stand still... “Nicky?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I keep this?” He ran his hand across the news paper clipping. I must have looked hurt because he added “Sorry... I shouldn't have asked, it was just out first out of state gig and I don't have anything to remember it by.”
“It's fine, take it.” I said, peeling it carefully off the grey breezeblock wall and thrusting it towards him, “You'll need something to remember back when life was normal in a couple of years, eh, Mr. Rockstar... but you can only keep it on one condition.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah... when you're interviewed for Time or the Rolling Stone or whatever, and they say “Wow, Mr. Rockstar, you are so grounded, despite all your millions of dollars.” you have to tell them “Oh, well I owe it all to a little friend of mine from Boston.” OK?”
He laughed, “Ok, Nicky, you got a deal.” He folded it carefully and put it into the bag he had produced the whiskey from.
“So, how long are you staying for.”
“Actually, a few days. Though I'm staying with this guy I'm auditioning.”
“A few days for an audition?!”
“haha... Well, I am very thorough.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Well, that is good to hear. I hope you will have time to come and visit me though!”
“Of course I will.”
“So, what are we doing his fine evening?”
“Well.. if you don't mind.. I thought; pizza, whiskey and horror flicks.”
“Now that sounds divine.” It sounded like my average Friday night, but pizza, whiskey and the same films I watched week in week out really would be divine with someone to talk to, “so... you want to order in or go an pick it up ourselves?”
“It's a little cold outside.” He said, shyly.
“Order in it is.” I said, going over to the phone on the wall next to the slipknot poster.
I rang through and placed my order before passing the phone to him so he could place his order.
“Now... what do we do until the pizza arrives?” I asked as he hung up.
“What films do you have nowadays?”
“The Exorcist, Halloween and...”
“... Plan 9 for Outer Space?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I never met another Ed Wood fan before I met you, it kinds stuck with me.”
“So.... Plan 9 it is then?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I stuck the over played VHS in the machine and joined him on the couch.
“Hey... we have a bottle each.” He grinned, with one of the bottles of whiskey in his hand. This night was gonna get messy real quick.
I unscrewed the cap from my bottle and took a long sip.
We had not been sat there for long when the pizza arrived. I jumped up to pay but he insisted he was going to. I felt a chill as he opened the door, which lingered even after he had brought the pizzas into the room and lay them in front of the couch.
“So, do you ever go out at the weekends?” He asked me, with a slice of pizza in his hand
“Me? No.... Not really felt up to it since my husband died.”
“Even now?”
“Yeah. Everywhere round here reminds me of him. The places we used to go, the things we used to do.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“It's fine... My own fault for being so sentimental.”
“So you really don't ever go out.”
“Nope... Pizza and movies is the weekend standard for me.”
“You should have said, I would have suggested something else.”
“It's fine. It's nice to have company for once.”
“Are you sure you wouldn't like to do something different? I can phone this guy I'm auditioning, even movies and pizza at a different place would be a change, right?”
“No, it's fine... thanks for the offer though.”
As much as I hated the routine of my life, I had settled into it. I wished I could be a little more spontaneous, like him. Just dropping in to a friend in a whole other state.
“Well then, we better make tonight super fun!” He said, thrusting his bottle of whiskey towards me. I obligingly took it from him. Plan 9 was just about the best movie ever made when intoxicated with a friend, I discovered. We spoke about a lot of things. Anything which had nothing to do with my boring routine life.
I wished more than anything that just for one night I could be like him. That I could go to his gig, enjoy myself, not feel guilty about my kids. I was fed up of being 'mommy' and Ms. V Moore. I liked being Nicky, and with him I was always going to be Nicky.
He was a great friend to me, so easy to get along with. Things were a little different then though, it would be so hard to keep in touch, especially with him being on the road. He could write to me, but I had no way of writing back. I sighed... it was so typical of my life that I would meet a great new friend and have no way of keeping in touch with them. I missed my best friend more than anything. I could visit him in prison, but I couldn't do this sort of thing with him any more, and I missed adult human contact that wasn't someone asking my opinion on a new album.
OK, so we talked about new albums, that was beside the point. I enjoyed it when it was with him.
It wasn't long before we were both completely wasted, and entranced by Plan 9, which was nearly over. I didn't stand a chance of putting in another VHS in this state, but I could just about figure out the sound system. I had forgotten that Slipknot was in it.
“Hey, you really are a fan of mine, you weren't bullshitting.”
“Of course not. You guys are awesome. Especially you.” I was able to say this now as I was more than a little drunk.
“I am?” He leaned a little closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder.
“Oh yeah, you're like... Well, I don't know any real good drummers... someone in a black metal band I guess, as you drum super fast.”
“Aw... thanks... someday I'll be like Tommy Lee.”
“Tommy Lee? You're gonna get VD?”
“Noooo... I'm gonna play in the air and stuff, you know, like he does.”
“You're crazy, Mr. Rockstar.”
“In a good way?”
“Of course. I wish I could be crazy, sometimes.” My head was swimming and right now I didn't care about responsibility or recitals, I just wanted to be a normal 22 year old.
“So, do it. Do something crazy, then I can be Mr. Rockstar and you can be Crazy Nicky. Or something more catchy. I'll think of it when I'm sober.”
“Fuck it.” I grabbed his T-shirt at the chest and pulled him close to me so his face was inches from mine. I stared, drunkenly, into his intense blue eyes, “you really wanna see me do something crazy?”
He was silent, but nodded, and his lips parted slightly as he began to breathe a little heavier.
I continued to stare deep into his eyes for a second as my heart raced... then, as if I hadn't even done it myself at all, my lips were pressed fleetingly against his. I pulled back, surprised at what I had just done, but his arms were wrapped around me and he pulled me close to him again, and his lips were pressed gently against my own. My head was spinning. It felt like I was on some fairground carousel. My first kiss in three years and I was drunk. My eyes were closed... my head was spinning... when he puled away from me I realised we were lying down on the couch. He was ontop of me, his hands pinning me to the couch.
He smiled, suggestively, though I was a hell of a lot more sober now and I think he must have been as well.
“You know, I like Crazy Nicky.”
I closed my eyes for a second, and pushed him gently off me.
“I'm sorry, Joey, I didn't mean to do that... I've... we've both had a lot to drink.”
“It's OK. Still friends?” He held out his hand, and I shook it.
“Yeah, still friends. But no more Crazy Nicky. My daughter would kill me if she knew what I just did.”
“Hey... I think Crazy Nicky should come to my gig.”
“I told you I can't... my daughter is in a play that night.”
“You really can't make it?”
“Afraid not.”
“You can meet me afterwards though, right”
“I don't know... I have to take the kids to school in the morning...”
“Please, Nicky. I really like you. As a friend.”
“I can't I'm not like you. I can't just drop everything for one night.” I said, more than a little annoyed at his persistence, not least because it was reminding me of all the stuff I had to give up when my husband died.
“OK. I'm sorry.” He picked the whiskey up again, but this time it felt like we were drinking to drown our sorrows.