Page 30 of Love is Strange
“Is his name Slash? Please tell me his name is Slash,” he says, finally coming around the beam to stand in front of me. I take an involuntary step back because I don’t think I was prepared for just how tall he really is. My new acquaintance here has spent most of our conversation leaning down over me against the beam that I damn near forgot that people tend to grow when they stand up to their regular heights. I roll my eyes at him and chuckle at the excitement on his face that maybe, just maybe, my brother was named after one of the greatest guitar players on the planet Earth.
“What about you? What’s your name?” I ask, giving the subject a change.
His face drops a little, but he recovers quickly. I can tell the mystery of my brother’s name will come back up again later, and that’s okay with me as long as the stranger in front of me gives me a name to call him.
“Silas,” he says, extending a hand. I smile and take his hand in mine, giving it a gentle shake before letting go. I can’t help but think of how proud my friends would probably be of me right now if I had any—and that’s when I glance at the bartender. She’s the one that dared me to come over and strike up a conversation with him anyway, so at the very least, I’m hoping she’s paying attention.
“You drinking tonight, Hair Metal?” Silas asks, noticing my eyes scanning the bar. But I’m not looking for booze; I’m looking for the chick that laid out the dare and has now seemingly vanished into thin air. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand loosely in his. “I’ll get your next one.”
I follow behind him closely as he weaves through the crowd. Once we get to the bar, he puts his hand on a guy’s shoulder, leans down, and says something to him with a menace in his eyes that I’m almost sure is what moved the man and his friends so quickly from their chairs.
“Did you … did you just call me ‘Hair Metal’?” I ask, settling into the chair. He laughs and sticks the tip of his tongue out at me before reaching into his back pocket and tossing a thick, black leather wallet onto the bar top.
“I did indeed,” he confirms with a nod as he tilts his head at me. “I think it suits you.”
“It would if I had a canister of Aqua Net holding up my bangs a foot over my head, but I don’t. Besides, I usually go by Axelle or Rose; not both,” I say with a shrug.
“A pick your poison kind of thing,” he confirms, grinning. “Well, I pick Hair Metal, so I guess you’re gonna have to be okay with that until the night is over and we part company, eh?”
Before I have a chance to decline his request of addressing me by what he obviously feels is a cute nickname, his face suddenly lights up and he pulls my stool closer to his. “Speaking of Poison. Is his name Bret Michaels? Your brother, I mean.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, using my foot to push my stool back away from his and give him a playful pat on the arm. “No.”
“I tried,” he says with a shrug, turning his attention the bottles behind the bar. “What do you feel like?”
“She wants something that will knock her out.”
We both turn around quickly and find the disappearing bartender standing behind us, a grin on her face. Silas cuts his eyes toward me, then back to her again, a knowing look clouding his eyes.
“Of course. I don’t know why I thought—whatever. Here,” he says, digging deep into his left side pocket and pulling out a small bag of multicolored pills. He opens it carefully and slips one into my hand before closing the bag and putting it away.
“You won’t even remember your name after that. See you around, Hair Metal,” he says evenly as he gets to his feet, retrieves his wallet, and walks off into the crowd.
“You won’t find a better product in the entire state,” she says, hopping into his now empty chair. “He’s the best when it comes to those.”
I quickly toss the pill into my purse understanding that I’m now holding an illegal narcotic of some kind and sigh. I thought she sent me over to make a friend, instead it seems that she took my need for wanting to forget certain aspects of my life a little too seriously.
“I’m Vanessa,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling. “And I wouldn’t take that until you’re in a safe place. Too many creeps around here.”
I nod, pulling my purse closer to my body and get to my feet. With a smile and a mumbled thanks, I quickly head for the front door, bobbing and weaving my way through kissing couples, drunk men that can barely stand and the women that love them, until I reach the door and step out into the night air.
I guess tonight is as good as any to get fucked up. It’ll only add to the shit storm that my life has mutated into anyway.
Chapter Three
It’sa quarter past twelve when I walk into the door of my apartment and I’m still clutching my purse tightly against myself. Almost as if some invisible force is waiting in the darkness to steal the little pill of joy that Silas gave to me.
With a sigh, I kick my shoes off and gently nudge them toward the small closet that sits just inside on the left. I smile when I hear the small scamper on the hardwood floors because I know it’s just my Miko coming to see who’s in her home. I lean down and scratch behind her ears when she comes over, then stand back up and head into the kitchen.
I decide not to turn the light on as I reach into the cabinet over the sink and retrieve a large glass. I pull my purse off my shoulder and toss it onto the counter before I fill the glass with water. Only half full because such is life.
I’m a bit hesitant about taking the pill at first, because I don’t know what it is; however, knowing that it will allegedly erase any memory I don’t want to hold onto anymore is enough to make me fish it out of my purse, pop it into my mouth, and take a healthy swig of water.
I spill the rest of the water into the sink and rinse out the glass, setting it in the dish drainer when I’m done. I decide that until this takes effect, the best place for me will more than likely be my couch where I can freak out Miko who probably made her way back to my bed at this point.
The only real friend I have in the world, and she doesn’t even know how to talk,I think with a chuckle as I lay down and drape an arm across my forehead.
I close my eyes and focus on the ticking of the grandfather clock I managed to find at a second-hand store for one hell of a bargain. It’s a little trick I like to do on the nights where I’m so exhausted from the lack of sleep but can’t drift off no matter how hard I try.
