dissonance. (a Böhme novel) (3 page)

“Why am I laughing? Well, because I used to babysit a kid with the same age difference between us,” she said as she pointed back and forth between us.

“That was another kid. It wasn’t me. Besides, you’re not old enough to be my mom, so why does it matter?” I asked as I pulled my lip in. I noticed my new friend tensed at the mom mention and I thought I might’ve pushed too much. I lifted two fingers at the bartender with a nod and she brought over two beers.

“So babysitter, will I ever get your name?” I asked coyly.

She finally gave me her full attention and rested her left elbow on the bar as I handed her a beer. She took the bottle from me with a nod and smiled as she took a drink. “My name’s Brecken.” She turned and walked backwards toward the stage as she kept her eyes trained on me. “Thanks for the beer, Sparky.”

Brecken jumped onto the stage, handed her beer to the guitar player and lifted her chin to the singer before taking her seat behind the drums. She fidgeted in the seat, grabbed her drumsticks and began to let them dance in her hands as if she were testing their weight. With a roll of her shoulders she leaned forward and tapped on the side of the snare drum to count in the song.

She’s a musician. She’s a hot as fuck musician.

I shook my head as she began to play and I returned to the guys.

“Who’s that?” Gabe asked when I leaned back against the bar.

“That my friend—is Brecken,” I said on a smile.

“Brecken?” Gabe asked with a shrug. “What kind of name is Brecken?”

“I have no fucking clue, but she wants nothing to do with me which makes her more interesting,” I said as I turned my eyes directly on her.

“Dude, check your four,” Karl said as he returned to the bar near us. He nodded in the direction he was referring. “Abby’s on her way here.”

I felt more than saw her approach. She walked right up to me and put her hand on my shoulder as she gave my bicep a squeeze.

“My, Blake, I don’t think I could ever get tired of you. That job of yours sure pays off,” she said as she rubbed the muscle in my arm. She looked up at me with the seductive look she always tried and then turned to the others. “Boys,” she said as she nodded toward Gabe and Karl. I pulled my arm from her and tried to step around her, but she pushed herself against me, ultimately locking me between her and the bar.

“Abby, what brings you over in our direction?” Gabe asked, not hiding his annoyance.

“I just came to say hello, no worries Gabe,” she said as she turned her shoulder to him and faced me. “Blake, will you get me a drink? I was hoping to pick up where we left off last week. You didn’t seem to mind my attentions when we were here last night,” she said with a wink and I got flashes of her trying to follow me into the bathroom last night. I saw her eyes were glassy, and I knew she had been drinking before she got here and I didn’t want to recreate the events of last night.

“Are you for real Abby?” I asked as I crossed my arms.

“Yes Blake, I’m serious. It’s the least you can do after how you’ve treated me so crappily. I don’t understand why you’re acting this way. I don’t appreciate this viscous circle we’re stuck in. Don’t you think I deserve at least an apple-tini?” she asked with a pouty face and fell into me as she stumbled in her heels. Man I hated it when she tried to use what she thought were big words only to get them wrong.
Viscous?
I don’t think she realized how appropriate that word actually was for what we were involved in together.

“Abby, I’m not getting you a drink,” I said as I removed her hand from my arm again. I looked over her shoulder to watch Brecken. “Look, I broke up with you months ago. You need to realize it's officially over—no more. And I did give you an explanation. Don’t take me wrong.” I sighed before continuing, “Please take this for how I intend for you to take it—you are a demanding, inconsiderate bitch. First, how you acted toward Hannah that night—claiming I was flirting with her. Then to go and get pissed because I needed to be there with my friend when his father in law died,” I said, running my hand across my hair in frustration. “Man, I can’t be with someone who expects me to put them first and above everyone else. Frankly Abby, no one will ever be better and more important than yourself in your eyes. I don’t need or want that shit.” I had to be a bastard with her to get her to back off me. I didn’t owe her a softer version of the truth. She had to take it as it was.

Even though it was the truth, it was still hard for me to say and I was trying to convince myself that what I said was needed. I saw her try to hide her embarrassment at my words, then she changed her expression to her usual pride filled one, and what I just said had no effect on her. She was going to play it as if she were the one ending it. I didn’t care, just as long as it ended.

She turned her shoulder to me and with a scoff pranced away as if she were the queen of the place. “Have a nice night asshole,” she said as she left.

“Did she just say viscous?” Gabe asked.

“Yes, she said viscous. She gets her words wrong most of the time. I thought it cute at first, but now it’s fucking annoying. Ironically I think she was more correct in her mess up,” I said as I finished my second beer.

I turned to Gabe. “Punch me in the throat if I drink enough to want to go home with her. If I went there again, there’d be hell to pay for it,” I said with a shake of my shoulders.

“Oh believe me, I won’t let it happen,” Karl piped up from the other side of Gabe.

“Thanks,” I said as the song turned over into a new one. I looked at Brecken one more time and saw she was watching me. I smiled at the absent stare in her eyes. Her thoughts were lost to the beat of the song as she watched me and I knew she was interested. As much as she tried to claim she wasn’t—she was definitely interested.

The street was dark and the writer walked without looking suspicious—they were supposed to be here. The writer learned if you acted suspicious, people will find you as so. The best move was to walk with intention and the writer did.

The need to get the questions answered was consuming. The writer knew the questions were creating a response from people and hoped one person in particular would read them.

The writer created the painting in the background before posing the question. The painting was of a man with his back turned on the world, escaping into the chaotic pain in front of him.

Why did you do it?

Damn it Brecken, keep your head in the game
.

That kid wasn’t someone I needed to let into my life. And being ten years younger than me, I definitely saw him as a kid. He looked like he stepped out of a prime time television show aimed at teenagers. He’d play the part of the guy who partied often and more than likely took a different girl home every night and kept tally on his headboard.

Yes, it was a good idea to tell him to bark up another tree. I’ve been there before and am old enough to understand that men who act as little boys are just that—boys. This guy was barely a man.

I didn’t need that shit—especially now that I saw he was friends with Karl. I have memories of wiping Karl’s butt as a kid. Interest in one of his friends was out of the question.

But unfortunately Blake held a lure to him and I kept finding my eyes drifting in his direction, and questioning my own emotions. The repeating beat of the song Jonesie chose for the start of our set didn’t help matters. The constant, mellow rhythm brought me to the place of meditation I craved from music. I didn’t realize I stared at Blake until a smile formed on his face. That small motion broke me from my zone and I skipped one tap of my snare which caused a reaction from Jonesie. He glared at me with those beady eyes of his.

I got into this gig because I loved to play—even in a cover band. Plus, the pay helps. I had known Jonesie since high school—Saul our bass player as well. But the annoyance Jonesie brought with him made the band not worth my time. As I continued on with the song, I lifted my left hand during a break and flipped off Jonesie. He hated it when I did that. He told me one time that flipping people off was reminiscent of the 90s and I needed to act my age.

I told him that the flip off will never grow old. Conall and Saul both gave me a smile for my defiance. It was unavoidable. I enjoyed pushing Jonesie’s buttons.

The dull crowd swayed aimlessly to the music, and I wondered how we ended up in this place. Usually, the crowd enjoyed hearing a live jukebox. We played a good mesh of punk, rock, and folk, but for the most part this evening sucked.

I turned my eyes from the crowd and watched as Blake spoke with a bitchy looking chick. I smiled to myself as I watched her. She was obviously more his normal choice. She embodied the definition of arm candy, the girl who wanted to be pampered and treated as everything that mattered in the world.

I couldn't be that girl. I was too damn stubborn. I understood that fairy tales didn't exist. Prince Charming wasn’t going to save me and life throws more shit than roses.

_______________

An hour later I was happy to pass things over to the DJ. I began to pack up my gear and kept my eyes from the crowd of dancing bodies.

I don’t mind newer music, but I can’t dance to the stuff. I was born in the wrong decade. As I looked at the younger faces dancing, I knew I came from a different decade than those gyrating across the floor. The lust filled room suffocated me. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex as much as the next person. But sex for the sake of sex was empty. I had enough emptiness and learned years ago it can’t be filled with the physical. I need to connect on a deeper level.

I turned and picked up my kick drum as Jonesie jumped from the stage to join a group of girls on the dance floor. Only a year younger than me, Jonesie always enjoyed the attention of the girls after his set and rarely helped move our gear. It looked like that had not changed. He never recognized the work the rest of us put into shows before, and he still didn’t. He played music for the attention it brought him and not for the love of music.

I shook my head as I descended the steps and walked toward the side entrance, hoping to make a clean exit. It was dark as hell and the bodies standing in front of me blocked my view of the door. I hated parading through drunken idiots in the light and the darkness made it worse. The loud music filling the room then made it difficult to ask for passage to the door.

“Hey that was fucking hot up there, missy,” one of said idiots chose to voice as I tried to push my drum between him and his friend to get to the door. Oblivious to the large object I was carrying, the guy stood in my way and continued to try and work his charm. “Come on, why don’t you come get a drink with us?” he asked with a slur to his speech. He lifted his hand to touch my hair, and I shook my head away to avoid it.

Why the hell couldn’t these Neanderthals get with the times and not objectify women? Sure, I like to be seen as attractive, but that doesn’t mean I want some drunk asshole touching me.

“Back the fuck up, dude. I’m not interested and I want to get my gear outta here,” I said with a stare, meeting his eyes.

“Aww, come on honey. You gotta mingle with the fans, right? We just want to have a little fun with ya,” he said as he leaned toward me and I got a whiff of him. His smell reminded me of old lettuce left to sit on the counter. That smell alone showed the beer in his hand was not the first, or even fifth he had today.

As I started to set my drum on the floor and give the guy a piece of my mind, a figure standing just shy of a foot taller than me stepped between us. I couldn’t make out who it was because it was so dark on this side of the stage. “Why don’t you move out of the way? Can’t you see she’s trying to carry her shit out?” Ah yes Blake, acting as my hero, my
Prince Charming
, saving me from the drunken fools.

“Look, just because you bought me a beer doesn’t make you my savior, Bogart. I’m not a damsel in distress and I have it handled,” I said to Blake as I pushed his shoulder.

“I’m positive you do Brecken, but I don’t think
they
believe you do,” Blake said as he turned to let his eyes meet mine for just a moment before dancing them across my face. It was the first time I looked into them and his dark hazel eyes were so damned kind and sincere my breath caught for a moment.
Maybe it's not an act
.

I looked away. “What the fuck ever, I’m out of here,” I said as I picked up my drum and continued to the door. Thankfully there was a group of not so idiotic guys that pushed the door open and let me pass.

“Good set tonight,” a younger kid said as he held the door for me.

“Thanks, man.” I nodded to him before walking the alley to my car. I usually took the time to talk to people, but I wanted to get out of there.

I smiled as I took in my car. That wagon was beautiful and it was my favorite place in the world. Yes, inside a car was my favorite place. It didn’t matter where I was, that car has been with me since I was a kid.

It was my dad’s car when I was young. He had it long before I came into the picture. It’s a 1973 Dodge Wagon. Black exterior, turquoise blue interior—customized for me, as she looked different when she was his, but his spirit is still held tight within her.