Page 55 of The Fire Walker
Jessie came backtwenty minutes later with a plastic bag of food in onehand.
“I saw a bar back there a bit,” she said, dumping the takeout on the table. “There was a cover band playing. It looked like a rock thing if you’reinterested.”
I thought about what Zoe said on the phone. Had Jessie really run out on me because she was scared? If she had, then wasn’t it a big deal she had the guts to come back and faceme?
“Sure.”
She looked at me like she didn’t expect me to agree without an argument and quickly changed her expression. “Okay.Later.”
We ate in silence, neither of us knowing what to say to one another, and I found myself wanting a drink to take the edgeoff.
“Well,” she said a moment later. “If we’re going out, I’m going to have a quick shower and get changed.” She dusted off her hands and collected her rubbish, dumping it in the plastic bag. Rifling through her bag, she pulled out some clean clothes and disappeared into thebathroom.
Once the door was closed, my mind instantly went to the conversation I’d had with Zoe. I thought about that first tour we’d been on with The Stabs. Zoe had been so hell-bent against letting Will get under her skin that she needed a talking to. I’d paired up with him to try to convince her to take achance.
Zoe was my best friend, but fuck, she could be stubborn. We’d been standing together in the elevator one day after breakfast, and I’d said the most profound thing I would probably ever say in my entire life.Sometimes, you’ve gotta take a chance, no matter how broken you’ve been in the past. Did I really say that to her? What kind of person was I if I couldn’t take my ownadvice?
This time, Zoe was the one who was dishing out the home truths.Get to know her. I think I’d used that one on her at some point, too. With a sigh, I cleaned up the remains of dinner and changed my shirt, pulling on my denim jacket. When girls say they’re going to take a quick shower, it usually meant forty-five minutes at a minimum. I flicked on the television and found a rerun ofThe Simpsonsto bide mytime.
I could hear the water running in the adjoining bathroom and the splashes as she moved around. All I could think about was the fact she was naked in the next room. It was a typical guy thing to do, but I sat on the end of the bed, my hands jammed underneath my legs, my focus totallyshot.
When she finally emerged in a waft of steam, I looked up, and my heart stopped. Black skinny jeans hugged her ass, a loose-fitting blue singlet hung around her breasts just so, and she had her beat-up biker boots on. One hundred percent of the things about her that turned me on were on show. Why the hell did she have to look so fucking gorgeous? I mean, she could wear a garbage bag, and I would still behard.
“Did you want the shower?” she asked, and my gaze snapped back up to herface.
Unable to remember how to speak, I shook myhead.
“Did you want to go, then? I can drive if you want to have a drink. I remember where the placewas.”
Nodding, I grabbed the car keys from my pocket and held them out. I didn’t want to be attracted to her, I couldn’t handle it, but the image still flashed through my mind of us just staying in and peeling off those tight jeans. When her fingers brushed against mine, it would’ve been so easy to pull her on top of me and pull that singlet over her head and… But I couldn’t trust her. Not yet or maybe notever.
Jessie drove us the ten or so minutes to the bar she’d seen and pulled into the car park, which was already crammed. Seemed like it was a popular place, but maybe that was because it seemed to be the only place. Utes, beat-up trucks, and other assorted bombs were parked haphazardly on the gravel, which was a glaring indicator of the clientele, so I would probably fit rightin.
The bar itself was a small, dark hole-in-the-wall. At one end was a stage, set about half a meter above the floor and packed tight with the house band’s gear. They had a half decent drum kit, and their amps—being Marshall with Orange heads—weren’t bad, either. The music nerd in me wanted to go up and have a closer look, but my eyes settled on the bar, and it was probably a good idea to go therefirst.
The music that was blaring out of the sound system was pretty good, too. Rock mixed with some indie and punk. When a NOFX song came on, Jessie started to nod her head next to me, her eyes scanning thecrowd.
“You’re into punk?” I asked, surprised. I took her for an indie girl, not this hardcorestuff.
She shrugged, looking up at me. “Yeah. The American stuff, though.” When it came to punk, there was a distinct difference between the British and American bands. “But I like lots of different things,” she continued. “Indie. Rock.Electro.”
“I would never have pickedit.”
“I was a rebellious punk rocker once upon atime.”
“I was the classclown.”
She smiled. “I believethat.”
The bartender came along then, breaking our conversation, and took our order. A moment later, when I felt the slow burn of scotch down the back of my throat, my nerves began to settle along with my libido. I downed the rest in one go and slammed the glass back down onto the bar. I didn’t know what else to say to her, so I just walked off across the bar, weaving through the crowd that had started to thicken even more, and found myself beside thestage.
Curious, I began looking over the band’s gear, seeing what stuff they had rigged. There was a lot more to music than just playing. I mean, there were so many things you could do with sound that just made the thing you were playing so much richer. The effects, reverb,distortion.
“Hey,” a voice said besideme.
Looking up, I saw a guy watching me. “’Sup, mate. This yourstuff?”
“Yeah, I’m the guitarist.” I wondered with the kind of people that were filling up the bar if he was worried I was going to swipesomething.
