Page 23 of White Room Virgin

For a stoner, he had really sharp eyes. But he hadn’t been accepted to art school for no reason. The guy had an eye for detail like no other. After I’d shaved and washed my face, he looked over at me from the couch and nodded with satisfaction. So I got dressed and prepared myself.

“I hope there are some girls there too,” Steven said worriedly. “The last time I was at a party in the rehearsal room, it was all men. That really sucks.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t care whether he’s top or bottom. That’s what they say, isn’t it?”

Hearing that from Steven’s mouth made me smile. The good guy sometimes didn’t even realize how funny he was. “I’d be happy if there was something to nibble on,” I said and accepted the can of beer Steven had brought me.

“Do you want to stop by the gas station to be on the safe side?”

“No, I’ll take my chances,” I replied, pushing down the tab to release a fizz before taking a big swig.

I wasn’t particularly stingy, but with money tight, I avoided splurging on an expensive sandwich from the gas station, especially since it had been sitting there all day. If I had to, I’d rather get a kebab from Langstrasse on the way home. “Where is this rehearsal room?”

“It's a ten-minute walk from Tiefenbrunnen.”

***

When we arrived, the concert was already in full swing. As expected, the rehearsal room was a dingy basement in some office building, but at least it had a stage and several seating areas. And to Steven’s delight, there were women there too. They had gathered in front of the stage like groupies and idolized the singer.

He wore a black tank top and resembled a rock star with his long brown hair and fully tattooed arms. I had to admit that he also had a beautiful face and an impressive voice. “What happened to the old singer?” I asked Steven as we grabbed a beer at the makeshift bar.

“I think they unceremoniously kicked him out after he showed up.” Steven swayed to the rhythm of the music, even though I was aware that the sound was a bit too acid for his taste. “Noé, that’s his name. He’s got a great voice!”

“Hm…”

“Oh… no. Lu, I know that look. Stay away from that guy. They say he’s a slut and will do anything for money. His reputation is a thousand times worse than yours.”

“I don’t know what you … Uh, what? My reputation?” I hadn’t realized I even had one. “What do you mean by that? What’s being said about me?”

Steven swallowed. “Well … yeah, uh … I don’t know exactly,” he mumbled, taking a drink from his beer.

“Now spit it out already!”

“Well, that you’re a player and don’t think much of love … and all that.”

“That’s true,” I admitted unabashedly. But then I frowned. “And all that? What do you mean by all that?”

Steven was beating around the bush. “Well, you hear a lot of things. Some say you’re a real dominant, and others say you let yourself be treated worse than a dog. It’s all that S/M stuff.”

I grimaced in irritation. Then I burst out laughing and could hardly contain myself. “That’s doing the rounds? Where did you get that from?”

“It doesn’t matter. Anyway, the girls are really insecure because they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into with you.”

I sighed. “You know I’m open to everything, but I’ve never done anything my partner didn’t want me to do.”

Steven squinted over at me. “Where do you always find people like that?”

“They’re everywhere.” I let my gaze wander around the room. The conversation awakened my hunting instinct, and I could feel how my body had been under far too much tension for the last few days. I grinned at Steven. “Come on, let’s have some fun.”

We ended up in a group gathered around some couches where a bong was being passed around—people were accordingly stoned. Somehow I felt comfortable here, hanging out, smoking a cigarette, drinking beer … just like when I met Phil.

It had been a gig by Marco’s band and Steven had gotten high on weed. My beer was empty, and as I was walking to the bar, I’d bumped into this handsome guy. His clear eyes and genuine smile immediately captured my attention, prompting me to spontaneously invite him for a beer. When he said he wouldn’t drink alcohol or take any other drugs at all, I was hooked. That was the last beer I drank for a long time.

Reveling in this nostalgic feeling, I left Steven with his stoner friends and strolled around the rehearsal room for a while. I bumped into familiar faces here and there, chatted with them about God and the world, and was introduced to new people.

As soon as the band finished their session, music started playing from the speakers. I was engaged in conversation with a couple of women I knew from art school when Jessica sauntered into my line of sight. She hadn’t seen me yet but was heading straight for me.

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