Page 47 of Vespertine
So tempted to make an inappropriate jokeright now, but I won’t. See how considerate I can be?
Mind blown,Jasper typed.Can I call you?
Sure. You made it home okay?
Jasper didn’t bother replying and called instead.
“Hey, what’s up?” Nicky’s voice sounded soft and velvety,like he was keeping his voice down for his sleeping parents. “You all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m home. It’s just that I received a callfrom Blue Oasis’s supervisor. Apparently someone came around earlier thisevening, pretending to be interested in writing an article about the youthgroup, but then started asking questions about our friendship as soon as he wasinside.”
“Shit. Fuck.” There was a rustling noise, the slide of adoor, and the sounds of the night. Jasper heard dim footsteps through grass andthen the steadily louder lapping of the waves. Thinking of Nicky standing bythe water in the dark of the night gave him a pang of nostalgia so profound hebent forward a little.
“Do you have his name? I should’ve known it wouldn’t takelong for one of those fucking vultures to show up. But the fact that they’reshowing up at the school means he’s got nothing to go on but rumors. Did yoursupervisor say anything? I’m guessing not. Oh Jesus, you don’t need this craparound your kids. Fuck. Chances are he doesn’t know I’m back and he’ll justdisappear again. How would he even know we were friends? If someone from theband blabbed about you, I swear to God…uh. Maybe not to God. If I could just—”
“Nicky,” Jasper said softly. “Slow down.” Instantly Nickyfell silent and Jasper listened to the familiar sounds of the bay at night fora while. He wished he was there instead of talking over the phone, all alone inhis house. “We’ll be fine. If he shows up again, I’ll call the police. SheriffO’Neill won’t put up with any of this. I was worried about you. Do you thinkthey’ll come to your house?”
Nicky snorted softly. “Apparently my parents have becomepretty good at sending paps and crazed fans packing. But yeah, I’ll keep an eyeout and be careful. Wear baseball caps and sunglasses.”
“Because that works so well,” Jasper said.
Nicky snickered. “What’s this, Father Jazz? You have alittle bit of a thing for gossip magazines?”
“No.” Jasper laughed. “But it’s not like you can avoid themif you want to visit any kind of grocery store.”
“Hmm that’s what they all say but I bet you know all aboutKim K’s latest scandal.”
“I do not!” Jasper grinned and settled a little deeper inhis couch. “But now that we’re on the topic, who did you meet and what can youtell me about what they’re really like?”
“Knock me over with a feather. I never would have seen thiscoming. You want to use me for my ties with the celebrity world.”
“Well,” Jasper said primly, “I’m sure they could all use agood confession.”
Nicky laughed and the sound of it was like music underscoredwith the lapping of the water. Jasper forgot about his evening yoga, or that heneeded to be up early, and they talked for almost an hour. When he finally wentto bed he had no trouble falling asleep.
After disconnecting the call with Jazz, Nicky headedback into the house and up two flights of stairs.
The attic room was virtually untouched. His old Liver Pills,Evil’s Tool, and Nine Inch Nails posters all hung just where he’d left themyears ago. They were a little dusty, but they weren’t even all that faded,protected from sunlight by the narrow north-facing windows and the blinds thatwere always kept drawn now that he didn’t live there anymore. He sat on thenarrow, extra-long twin that he and Jazz had hauled up the steep stairs when atthirteen he’d abandoned his old “baby bedroom” for the moreteenage-appropriate, angstier attic abode.
The faces of his former heroes stared down at him—all ofthem transgressive, all of them angry. He’d thought they were kindred spirits,men that knew all about the internal cage. He’d thought they could teach himhow to cope with the hurt from all the useless people who couldn’t figure outhow to get inside, or pull him out. All but Jasper.
God, what a piece of shit kid he’d been. He stood up andtore the posters down. They weren’t his heroes anymore. He’d even met the guysin Liver Pills. They were just as fucked up in their own ways as he was.
Slithering snake, glittering eyes
Demon whispers, pretty lies
Heart of carbon in its cage
Beating, screaming, kicking rage
Lyrics he’d written after touring as an opening act forLiver Pills years before. He hated that song. He didn’t want to live the kindof life where he wrote lyrics like that anymore. He knelt and rolled up thetorn posters and threw them into the dusty trash can. They stuck out awkwardlyand he irritably pulled them out again and tossed the paper down the stairs. He’dtake it out to the trash later.
The bean bag was in the corner and he crashed down on it,gazing up at the exposed wooden beams angling up to the peak in the roof. Therewere some cobwebs at the apex and he remembered his mother sitting on his bedwhile he stood on a chair with a long extension attached to a dust-cloth,resentfully cleaning the webs away. Then his gaze fell to his bed.
“That old bean bag you loved so much is still up there.Remember that bean bag, Jazz?”
The view of his bed was a pretty good one. He usually slepton his left side. Jazz would have had a view of his face.
