Page 36 of Uriah's Orbit
“Why do you always eat like you’re starving, dude?”
“If there’s food, I’m eating,” he said after enjoying the pastry thoroughly. “It’s from being on the streets as a kid. Mama always told us to eat if we could. I never got over that. But, dude, this is actually really good.”
“It’s not going anywhere,” I said, patting him on the back.
“When you were once homeless, you don’t assume that,” he said quietly. “You should try this. It’s got a delicious filling.” He looked around. “But you’d know about delicious filling, wouldn’t you?”
“Luis,” I snapped. “Jesus Jiminy Cricket, man.”
“What? You look a lot less tense,” he said. “Did you guys do it?”
“No,” I hissed. “I don’t want my first time in a stolen office. Damn, man.”
The phyllo puff with brie and bacon stopped halfway to his mouth and he stopped. “Wait. Could you say that again?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Aht. You said first time.” He glanced around and popped the hors d’oeuvre into his mouth and spoke around it, “You’ve never done it. Holy crap, man. That’s how you fly under the gaydar.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Luis. Shut up,” I snapped quietly.
“Please tell me you got something out of that visit upstairs.”
“Hedid,” I mumbled.
I looked up when Luis started choke-laughing on his puff pastry. He grabbed the beer he had put down and took a sip of it, clearing whatever blockage he was experiencing. He nodded after a minute. “That’s why you look more relaxed.”
“You’re not helping,” I said.
“Whatever,” he said. “Good for you, dude. Good for you. It’s about time you started getting some action. No one should have to go through life without a little fun.”
“Can we please talk about the music and the reception to it?
He finally took the hint. “The music is a total hit. No one will shut up about it. Already the DJ is planning on just playing it back through the rest of the night.” He nodded at the Times music critic standing in the corner with someone else who looked vaguely important. “That man hasn’t stopped asking all of us questions about the lyrics inBound.”
I started laughing. “Are you serious. Of all the songs on the album he wants to know about that one?”
“Apparently he can’t figure out that the phrasegood hemp leaves good marks when the rope is bound too tight, just rightis an allusion to BDSM,” Luis said. “Tay said he wrote it after he watched the movie, and the guy still didn’t seem to understand.”
“Are people this dense?” I asked. “I mean,For the Benefit of Mr. Kitewas written because The Beatles saw an advertisement in the local paper. It’s not some deep meaning allegory.Boundis just a song about people being kinky.”
“He does not get that. He thinks that there has to be a deeper meaning. You know, instead of talking to Taylor about his song on this album.”
I sighed. “I have the feeling we are going to be dealing with a lot of that for next few weeks. Until all of these people figure out that we aren’t a corporate entity anymore. That we’re a real band with real people who write real music about real things.”
Luis grimaced. “What do you think they are going to do when they find out we played those instruments and you really can sing?”
“They’ll probably shit their shorts.” I plucked a phyllo pastry off the plate and popped it in my mouth while Luis stared at me, not sure if he wanted to laugh or be mad. I leaned in close. “And yes, the blow job I just got was spectacular.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” He held up his hand for a high five.
I shook my head, but didn’t leave him hanging.
“Who all else is here?” Grant asked walking up. “I mean, holy crap Robot Servant? Times, Rolling Stone, TMZ, MTV… I’m still not used to all this. Eight years, and…”
“This time is different,” I said. “This time, it’s all us. The real us. The stuff we’ve been dying to do for six albums.”
“Nelson Powers is in the corner,” Grant gasped. “Don’t turn around. Oh, God, don’t turn around. He’s seriously standing in the corner.”
