Vegas Boys

"I--you--you weren't answering your phone," Brendon explained lamely to Ryan. He glanced at me nervously again. "Am I--interrrupting--something...?"

"No," said Ryan and I at the same time, so quickly that we must have sounded suspicious.

Ryan got up, gesturing awkwardly to me on the couch. "Maybe you should talk to her, Bren," he said softly.

Brendon looked at me as if he was asking permission, and I tried to smile; he swallowed hard and nodded. Ryan clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly as he walked past him.

Brendon sat down on the couch next to me, hesitantly, and we both waited to speak until Ryan's footsteps on the staircase could no longer be heard. Then he said, "So...did I ever mention that I'm sorry?"

I replayed every conversation we'd had since Friday morning in my head--I had them all perfectly memorized, down to every last tone inflection. "No, actually," I half-laughed. "I don't think you did."

"Well, I am." He smiled at me, and I found myself smiling shyly back; we were both hurt and embarrassed and hopeful, and it showed.

"I'm sorry, too. I kind of overreacted, I guess," I admitted.

"I didn't mean to keep secrets from you," he went on. "I just...I just thought we'd have more time... I was afraid you'd be upset, and I wanted to put it off."

"I know," I said sincerely. "I know you didn't mean it."

"And I wasn't using you for sex. I never thought it'd come to that, to be honest."

We both looked at our feet then, and a side glance snuck out of the corner of my eye told me that his face was heating up as much as mine was. I was too embarrassed and ashamed of my behavior to tell him that I knew he never meant that, either--that sex had been my idea all along, and I was just lashing out at him because I was hurt. But we both knew it anyway. I didn't have to say it.

"I'm sorry I blamed everything on you," I said softly. I reached over to take his hand, and he looked up at me. Tears stung my eyes and I did my best to blink them away as I said, "It's just that...everyone leaves..."

My voice cracked, and the tears escaped, and I couldn't have gone on even if he had let me; but Brendon said, "Oh, Kels," and pulled me into him and rocked me back and forth for a while as I cried. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair, murmuring, "Shhh...don't cry," but I did cry, and I knew he didn't really mind.

I don't know how long I sat there crying like that, but eventually it was too long, and I pulled away enough to wipe my eyes.

"I've been thinking about it, though..." I said, trying to smile, trying to be brave, trying to reassure him and and myself, even as my shaking voice betrayed me, "and I can just come with you. I'll drop out of school, and I'll come with you--"

"No," said Brendon firmly, his face hardening. "You're not dropping out of school."

I could see that he wasn't going to budge on this point, so I said, "Okay, I'll finish high school in Maryland, then--"

"We won't be in Maryland that long, Kels," he said, his eyes sad, because he knew he was crushing all my well thought-out hopes. "We'll be done recording by September, at the latest--"

"I'll be home-schooled!" I begged desperately. "I'll take online courses! I'll get my GED!"

But he was still shaking his head. "No, Kels. You need to stay here--"

"No! No! I'm coming with you!"

"No, you're not--"

"Please, Brendon--"

"Kelsey, you can't--"

"Why not?!" I screamed hysterically. I was bawling again, but I stopped immediately as a horrible thought entered my head, and I breathed, terrified, "...Don't you want me anymore?"

"No, no, no.... Of course I want you!" he insisted. He leaned forward, pushing my hair back out of my eyes, wiping my tears away and cupping my face in his hands tenderly. "Of course I want you...I told you yesterday, I love you, Kels. And I love you so much that I want you to be happy--I want you to be so happy--I want you to have everything, everything you could ever want."

He paused for a moment, swallowed hard, and went on. "Look, I don't know how this band thing's gonna play out. Not going to college is a big risk for me to take, and I don't want you to risk it, too. I want you to have everything."

I bit my lip and closed my eyes and let one lone tear roll down my cheek. He wiped it away with a single fluid movement of his thumb, and then he leaned in to kiss me softly on the lips.

I opened my eyes, and my vision was all blurry. "Don't leave me, Brendon," I whispered. "Please don't leave me."

The look on Brendon's face was of desperate helplessness. "It's just for a little while," he tried to reassure me, his fingers brushing the side of my face softly. "I'll be back soon."

I closed my eyes and cried silently again, because it was no use. I couldn't make him understand that he wasn't coming back for me. I don't know how I knew, but I knew that he wasn't coming back--I had always known.

Right from the start, I had known. I had known that he didn't need me, but I tried to make him anyway. I had known that he was more than I deserved, but I let him convince me otherwise anyway. I had known that he would hurt me, but I let him anyway.

This was what I had feared all along: that he would grow out of me, and leave me, and forget me. He didn't understand. He was young and carefree and happy-go-lucky, getting the break of his life. He couldn't see how this was going to play out.

He thought he was telling the truth when he pulled me into his arms and held me and kissed me and told me about all the things we'd do together when he came back for me. But I knew it was all a lie. Everyone left, in the end.

-----

The next Friday night, I went back to the Pink Flamingo without Brendon. It was awkward, sitting in that crowded room at a table all by myself, without Brendon's bright smile or loud laugh to keep me company, but I got through it, and the alone time was good for me. I had some thoughts to sort out on my own anyway.

The crowd started to dwindle by ten o'clock, and by midnight it was just me and a few other couples in the whole restaurant. By one o'clock, all but one of the couples had left, and the waitresses were gathering in doorways gossiping as they waited for their final three customers to pay their checks. I paid for my food and then wandered over to the far end of the room, where the familiar blonde musician was putting away her equipment on top of the makeshift stage.

"Um--excuse me," I said awkwardly as I hovered at the edge of the stage.

She turned around, saw me standing there, looking at her expectantly, and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi." I tried to smile back. "Uh, I just wondered if I could...ask you a few things?"

I knew it was odd, coming to an absolute stranger for advice--but I was desperate and I had no one else to turn to, it felt like.

Her face (which was pretty, for all its blandness) screwed up with confusion momentarily, but then she said, "Sure," and stuck out a thin, pale hand to help me up onto the stage with her. Once I'd hauled myself up there, we both sat on the edge of the stage together, legs dangling side-by-side.

"It's just that my boyfriend's a musician," I tried to explain, "and his band just got signed to a pretty major record label, and they're going to record an album in a few months...and..."

"And you're not happy about that," she guessed when I trailed off.

"Well, I am," I clarified quickly, "I mean, I'm happy for him, because he's living his dream. But he's graduating, and he's going to be in Maryland, and then God knows where else, but he won't let me come with him because I'm still in high school...and I don't want him to leave. I'm scared he'll change, and...forget me."

The musician sighed heavily and stared out over the deserted restaurant as she thought about how to put her words together. "Well...I wish I could tell you that you're just being silly, but you're not. People do change--especially when big business tells them to."

She must have seen the despair in my face, because she added quickly, "That doesn't mean your boyfriend will change. Of course, everyone changes," she corrected herself thoughtfully. "But he won't neccessarily forget you, or grow out of you." (I shivered as she used my own term.) "It just depends."

I looked out over the empty room as well. "Well...have you had any experience--I mean, with the industry?"

"Yes." She nodded gravely. "It's an ugly world, the record business. Well--the whole world's ugly, but the music industry is particularly so.The record companies' biggest problem is that they try to apply scientific formulas to an art that doesn't follow reason. It doesn't work out well. They just squash the artistic spirit."

I was starting to regret coming to her; she was just reinforcing all my worst fears. I grasped at the last straw: "But can we make it work? Even if I can't ever see him, and he has to pretend to be someone he's not all the time--can we still make it work?"

"I don't know, honey," she said, smiling softly at me. "Only you can answer that."