Art Is Dead

"Bullshit!" Joanna said, just a little too loudly. Someone nearby shushed us, but I ignored them.

"Shut up, Jo! I don't want the whole room to be looking at us, okay?"

"You're telling me," her voice dropped, "that Bo Burnham has your number?"

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you. But he probably won't call, because he doesn't live here or anything. It would be pointless. Now can we just watch him do his routine?"

Joanna pouted. "I hate you. I am so jealous right now."

"Don't be. This is stupid."

She faced the stage and wouldn't look at me. I sighed in agitation, knowing that this was going to cause an issue between us that would be brought up time and time again. Jo wasn't the type to let things go easily. Even though this particular instance was not my fault.

Despite the seething girl next to me, I thoroughly enjoyed the show. Bo proved to be absolutely hilarious, and I was glad that Joanna had asked me to come. He brought a sort of intelligence and art to his comedy. It was nice to know that I wasn't the only person that knew my way around literature. I still couldn't take my eyes off of him, though. When the curtains closed and the lights came back down, I looked over at Jo. She still had a hint of a smile on her pretty face, but when she looked at me it was wiped clean.

"He probably has a girlfriend," she said.

"They just broke up," I replied. "Seriously, Jo? Are you going to get pissy at me because I gave a guy my phone number? How the hell was I supposed to know that he was somebody important? He asked me to find him something to wear to work. He didn't mention that he was a comedian."

She finished the drink in front of her. "Fine, Nat. I'm not mad. I just wish that it had been me."

"Maybe if you got a job in the mall, it would be you."

"Maybe I-"

She was cut off by the vibrant ringing that eminated from my pocket. I retrieved my phone and stared at a number that I didn't recognize. I could feel my fingers shaking. I looked at Joanna for some advice.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, answer it. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't. I'll never forgive you if you don't."

I flashed her a grateful smile, then accepted the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, Nat, it's Bo. I mean, the guy who was so pathetic that he needed a personal shopper all day."

I chuckled. "Pathetic probably isn't the word that I would use."

"I need you to do two things for me. Number one: save my number in your phone. Number two: come backstage."

"But I-"

"Bring your roommate," he directed. "I'll meet you at the door so that security will let you guys in."

"Okay," I agreed. I hung up and looked at Joanna with a grin. "Come with me. I just got us backstage passes."

Jo followed me as I headed toward the only door that was blocked by burly security guards. Bo appeared behind them, and directed them to let the two of us through. Once we were safely backstage, I folded my arms and set my jaw.

"Why didn't you just tell me who you are?"

He laughed. "Because your face was priceless when I came on stage. I wish that you could have seen it."

Jo cleared her throat loudly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Jo, this is Bo. Bo, this is my roommate Joanna."

Bo shook her hand, chuckling to himself. "Jo and Bo; that's funny."

"Sure is," Joanna agreed, though I could see the disbelief in her eyes. Maybe she was rethinking her envy. If he was this immature all the time, she would never be able to put up with him.

"So," Bo turned to me, appearing almost giddy. "Now that you know my secret identitiy, what are you guys up to tonight?"

"Well," I paused and checked the time on my cell phone. "It's a Saturday, so I wasn't really planning on doing my homework. I'm pretty much up for anything. What about you, Joanna?"

"It's opening weekend at that new bar on Whyte Avenue. I was kind of hoping that we could check that out."

"Sure," Bo turned and admired his reflection in the dressing room mirror. "Just give me a minute to take off this makeup and I'll be ready."

Jo gave me a pointed look. I pretended that I didn't see it. Everyone wore makeup on stage. I had done a lot of theatre in high school, and I remembered applying generous amounts of foundation to all of the male actors. Imperfections were illuminated under those bright lights. Bo splashed water onto his face and wiped off the makeup, then looked at us as if we had to accept his current look.

"Great. Let's go," I said.

Bo had a towncar come by and pick us up shortly after. I had never lived any sort of fancy lifestyle before, and the treatment was a big step up from city buses and cabs. The lineup outside of the bar, however, was so long that I was able to forget that we were in the company of a celebrity. None of the other patrons seemed to notice him, though. Maybe I wasn't the only person who didn't know who the hell he was before tonight.

I began shaking from the cold. Joanna had been smart and wore a heavy jacket, but when I had gone to work earlier it had been fairly pleasant outside and I had opted out of the protective outer layer. Bo noticed my discomfort and peeled off the hoodie that I had convinced him to buy.

"Here," he said, holding it out to me.

I shook my head. "No, you'll get cold. That would be counterproductive. We'll be inside soon."

"Don't be proud," Bo persisted. "Just take it."

"And who says chivalry is dead?" Joanna muttered as she watched us.

Bo looked confused by her dark demeanour, but I distracted him by accepting his offer and slipping into the sweater. "Thank you," I said in gratitude.

The line continued at an agonizingly slow pace. I swore that I heard Bo's teeth chatter, but when I looked up at him in alarm he appeared to be perfectly comfortable. Maybe I was hearing things. We finally reached the front of the qeue, and the bouncer took our IDs and inspected them. The three of us hurried inside, trying to shake off the cold of the night as we did. Joanna led the way to the coat check, and I shrugged out of Bo's sweater and paid to have it stored. From there, we headed straight for the bar to grab a drink. Bo threw some money onto the counter before either Jo or myself could beat him to it. I opened my mouth to protest, but Bo silenced me with a look.

"Tonight is on me, ladies. I'm the jerk who didn't tell you who I was, remember? Besides, when I asked you what you were doing tonight, I was going to give you free tickets to the show. Since I couldn't do that, you have to let me spend some money on you by other means."

"Deal," Joanna smiled and took her drink from the bar.

"But I talked you into buying a shitload of new clothes," I argued.

"And then you gave me a discount," he added. I knew that he had me with that. I didn't let anyone use my discount. It was far too easy to get caught. As it was, I was going to have to make up some story about starting my Christmas shopping early. I could only hope that nobody reviewed the security tapes.

I finally nodded my head, admitting my acceptance of Bo's proposal. It's not like he was poor; what would be the harm in getting a few free drinks? I would probably never see him again, so there would be no pressure to pay him back. I felt a little sad at the thought that tonight would probably be all that I ever had with Bo. I smiled up at him and tried to forget about it in order to have a good time. I owed that to both him and Jo.

We found a table and gathered around it, setting down our drinks and trying our best to make conversation over the sound of the thundering bass. When the music shifted, Joanna grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me out of my seat.

"I love this song!" she hollered.

I didn't even have a chance to react before I was being dragged across the room toward the dance floor. I was more than a little bit confused; I knew that Joanna hated this particular song. So did I. Dancing to it amidst the barely-clothed eighteen-year-olds just felt wrong. I stopped Jo by pulling back against her grip.

"What are you doing?"

"I am informing you that you're going home with that boy," she told me.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

Jo smiled at me in a knowing way. "It's really okay that you like him. He seems like nothing but a sweetheart. You've been alone since you left that dickhead Trevor, and you need some fun. I'll leave early so that you can go with him."

"Jo," I argued. "I'm not letting you tell me whether or not I'm going to have a one night stand!"

"Who said anything about a one night stand? I didn't tell you to fuck him, Nat. I told you to go home with him. Don't fight me. I've got your best interests at heart."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is. I'll stay for another drink, then I'll catch a cab home. Just trust me. He digs you, and you clearly like him. Not that I can blame you. The boy is fine."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't go. You wanted to come to this bar so badly, and you're the one that was a fan of Bo's before. This should be your night."

"There will be other nights, and other bars. Make it up to me then. What kind of friend would I be if I denied you a chance like this?"

As if the discussion had reached a concrete ending, she strode past me quickly and headed back to our table. I followed dumbly. I sat down next to Bo, since Joanna had blocked the other side of the table with her body and her purse. He leaned down to speak in my ear so that I could hear him.

"No offense, but you guys are really terrible dancers."

I laughed aloud, realizing that Bo had been watching the entire time that we had been simply standing and talking. Jo winked at me, and I felt my cheeks colour in a blush. I leaned up to talk to Bo. "I know. Jo's getting tired, so she's going to head home after our next drink. Or so she says. She likes to change her mind."

"Every girl is entitled to change her mind," he said.

But, as she had predicted, Joanna left early. She sent me a menacing text message shortly after saying that she would stab me in my sleep if I chickened out and came home. She was terrifying, but I knew that in her twisted way she was just giving me her blessing.

Bo and I grew tired of the bar soon after, since we both really wanted to talk and it was nearly impossible over the music. We retrieved his hoodie from the coat check and waited outside for his town car to return. I once again wore his sweater, and this time I was certain that I caught him shiver.

When the car arrived, Bo opened the door for me and helped me climb inside. He slid in after me and huddled close, trying to warm up. "This is why I've never been to Canada in the wintertime," he grumbled.

I swatted his arm with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Hey, I happen to like the winter. It breeds beautiful things like hockey and snowboarding and hats with ear flaps."

Bo raised his eyebrows at me. "Those are good things?"

"I have the single greatest hat with ear flaps that you will ever lay eyes on. Besides, it's not even winter yet. Come back in January, and then we'll talk."

"No thank you," he laughed. "This is good enough for me. Although you guys have got one thing right up here."

"And what's that?"

"Being able to drink at age eighteen. I've missed out on so much by spending my life in the states. Not that it matters now, since I'm legal back home."

I let out a light laugh. "Most provinces are nineteen. But yeah, we've got it pretty sweet here. Not that the lenient drinking age was really a factor. We all partied before we were legally able to."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Bo reached out and put his chilly arms around me. "Warm me up, Nat."

I spent a fraction of a second feeling awkward, then gave in and molded my body against his. I gently ran my hands up and down his arms to generate friction and heat him up. When he felt significantly warmer, I stopped. I sat up straight and looked at him.

Despite what could have been a very nice moment, I went against my better judgment and opened my mouth.

"Did you know that blue eyes are a mutation?"