Use Somebody (48 page)

“But it’s better,” I insisted, “you get to use what your grandfather taught you, to create beauty, travel wherever you want and turn houses into homes for families. I can crunch numbers but so what? How does that really help make the world better?”

He laughed quietly and shook his head. “Why couldn’t I have found you four years ago?”

“I’ve wondered the same thing,” I confessed with a rueful smile. “If only.”

We exchanged a long, thoughtful glance, ruminating on the glimpse at what might have been. That could have been us—a couple in love, blissfully ignorant to turmoil or baggage.

Then again, I couldn’t help but wonder if Vance would have ever wanted me in the beginning, had I not been so broken. Or if I would have wanted him, given my history of poor judgment. Maybe all of this—our attraction—stemmed from situations in life that made both of us vulnerable. Maybe, had we been two perfectly healthy teenagers, we never would have felt the pull.

With trepidation, I contemplated what was bound to happen to us when this novelty wore off, and if we’d still be able to salvage our friendship in the end. I hoped so. Arguably, Vance was the best thing that had happened me to in a long time. But I also had to consider the strong possibility that I might lose him once and for all. Would I look back on moments like this and believe it was all worth it?

Somehow, and I didn’t know how, I started to miss him already. It didn’t make a bit of sense. All I had to do was say the word and he would’ve been mine. Here we were, standing in his kitchen less than a foot apart after talking about future dreams, desire, and boundaries—not to mention testing them… I was the one holding back. I could’ve had more if I wanted. So I didn’t deserve to miss him.

Be that as it may, I promised myself to enjoy this for as long as it lasted.

I felt Vance’s eyes boring into me as I looked back to the photo on the fridge.

“Was this your family’s dog?”

“She was mine,” he said softly, his eyes locked on me. “Bruxie.”

“Bruxie,” I repeated. “Sweet looking old girl.”

* * *

[Journal]

Didn’t you know? This damaged heart

Had shut out the world for an independent start

I was perfectly fine behind this stone lock

Depending on no one, I am my own rock

Now you’re there to catch me, asking for trust

Your arms are wide open but I will not jump

The more you persist, the more I push back

The more we resist, the more we attach

Tiptoeing lightly along this brick wall

Can lovers stay friends when one will not fall?

Isn’t it amazing what a little eye shadow can do?

Other than Vance’s advice to wear comfortable shoes, I had no clue what we were doing tonight. I wanted to look nice for him so I took a little extra time to get ready. It would’ve been easy to call up Summer and Kiki for advice, but for the sake of discretion, I settled for the lady at the store counter.

My coloring had totally changed since the last time I’d worn makeup, so she helped me pick out a new palette that suited my lighter skin and dark hair. I never cared for lipstick but I got a tinted gloss that did the trick. And a little sultry purple around my eyes plus mascara made them pop.

I still couldn’t justify the cost of a mani-pedi, but a bottle of polish was in my budget, as was the four-sided buffing bar. I got the full treatment alright, courtesy of myself.

Tucked away in the far corner of my closet, I found a green top amongst the other colored items that had gone untouched since college. It wasn’t slutty or anything, but for the first time in a long time, you could actually tell I had a figure. Plus, the green reminded me of Vance’s eyes.

It was totally worth it when he came over to pick me up that evening. I was surprised to see he had switched up his look too, with his hair styled up in a familiar fohawk that reminded me of Smudgepot.

As he took in my appearance, he didn’t say anything for quite some time. Just marveled at the sight of a girl that had been through hell and back before his eyes. The adorable blond curls were still gone, but I could work with the dark hair to be something other than despondent. And I worked it, alright. With the right clothes and makeup, I felt downright sexy.

Particularly when he released that long, low whistle. “Still gorgeous.”

Just then, heavy footfalls indicated James was descending the stairs. Meeting the family wasn’t part of our arrangement as it was something a more committed couple would do, but with all our comings and goings, it was bound to happen eventually.

I shot Vance a look and braced myself for impact, determined not to let James run us out of the house. After all, I lived here, too.

Soon as he reached the bottom and saw us standing in the entry way, James scowled at me, then at Vance. Ignoring his rude demeanor, Vance stuck his right hand out to greet him. The cherry on top of this most heinous act was his friendly smile—he was doomed even before he opened his mouth. 

“You must be James. I’m Vance Holloway, a friend of your sister’s.”

James eyed him distastefully and busied himself with pulling a pack of Camels from his jacket pocket, followed by a silver Zippo lighter. His movements were slow and calculated, making a point to ignore Vance’s gesture.

“You parked behind my car?” he finally asked.

Nonplussed, Vance’s brows furrowed inward, his hand frozen between them. “No,” he answered.

With a nod, James shouldered past us and popped the cigarette in his mouth, lighting it as he walked out the front door, not before shooting me one last hateful glare. 

Vance stared at the door in shock for a few seconds after it closed, then turned to face me.

“That… is your brother?” he said.

I just laughed. “Welcome to the Rossi family.” That actually went fairly well, as far as interactions with my brother were concerned. Vance should have seen him a few months ago when he still had his facial piercings. And he didn’t even say the “F” word.

“He seems…”

“Like an asshole,” I nodded, but not even James could spoil my mood tonight. “Don’t take it personally.”

We didn’t drive too long, just a couple cities over, and went down a street that had bars on the windows. As per usual, he held my hand while he steered, and kept stealing peeks at me when he should have been watching the road. I scolded him about it every time, but he had me blushing and he knew it.

“Holy cow,” I whispered when we parked next to the Glass House, a local music venue. We used to come here all the time in high school, but I hadn’t been in more than a year.

Vance smiled at me. “How does a concert sound?”

“Holy cow.”
Like a five-year-old at Disneyland, I pressed my palms to the window and watched the people swarming towards the old concert venue. A line had formed and wrapped itself around the building and down the block. Everyone was already buzzing with energy, and I felt it fill my veins like a straight shot of vodka. I tried to read the marquee, but couldn’t see it clearly from this angle. “Who’s playing?” I asked, to which his smile stretched.

“The Spill Canvas.”

“Holy cow!”

Vance laughed and tugged me along, helping me out through his own door so we didn’t have to separate. Hand in hand, we ran towards the line of waiting concertgoers. Unable to suppress this sudden surge of excitement, I was practically vibrating in place. I loved concerts and The Spill Canvas was one of my all-time favorite bands. It didn’t get any better than this! He produced two tickets and I grabbed one to read the words for myself because I simply couldn’t believe it.

“This date was a little less simple,” he admitted, “but how’d I do?”

For once, I didn’t care about the money he shouldn’t have spent on me or the people around us. All that really mattered was how much he truly knew me. He knew I’d love this. He did this thoughtful, wonderful thing for me, and I wasn’t going to let myself be anything but grateful.

I pulled his face down and let my passionate kiss speak for itself. It was the only way I was capable of expressing everything going on inside me. Getting to see my favorite band perform live had my pulse already racing, and we weren’t even in the building yet. Getting to share it with Vance promised to make this the best concert experience of my life.

He wrapped me in his arms and we stood together in shameless public affection for the very first time. There were people all around us while we kissed. Strangers that knew nothing about our stories. We could disappear here, where fears and boundaries and pasts all vanished in a faceless crowd. We could leave it all behind tonight. The idea sent tingles surging through my veins, to every last nerve ending, and most of all, in this kiss.

When we broke away, his eyes were heavy-lidded and his pupils dilated. The way he was looking at me almost made me tempted to skip the concert and go back to his condo. Almost, but not quite.

“Rosie?” he rasped.

Oh my.
Was he reading my mind? If he asked me to ditch this dream concert for him, I might actually consider it. “Vance?”

Right then, the doors opened and the line started moving. I grinned widely and grabbed his hand to pull him with me, bouncing with excitement. The crowd moved consistently as everyone was eager to get inside. On the other side of those doors was music, nostalgia, and happiness.

“Come on!” I yanked his wrist after the bouncer tore off our ticket stubs.

We made our way through the crowd straight into the pit. The Glass House was a pretty small concert venue, standing room only and packed to capacity at eight hundred bodies. Everyone squished and squeezed to get as close as possible to the stage.

“If we get separated,” I shouted, “meet in the back hallway by the bathrooms.”

“Oh Rosie…” He grabbed my hips and anchored me to him, and leaned down so he could talk directly into my ear. “Not even a thousand rabid music fans could separate me from you.”

The lights went out. A single electric guitar chord strummed and the bass reverberated through every single ribcage in the packed room. Four shadows stepped out in the darkness and took their places on stage as the first song began.

The crowd. Went. Nuts.

Colored lights flashed and danced to the heart-pumping music. Fog appeared at their feet and rolled right into the bouncing audience. The singer poured his whole heart into that microphone with so much emotion, it was impossible not to experience his love and heartache right along with him. We lifted our hands and pounded our feet, jumping and screaming and singing along. At the part in the song where the music breaks to a drum solo and finishes with two quick claps, a sea of eight hundred sets of hands raised to clap in unison.

There they were. The Spill Canvas. Only a few yards away.

As the throng of people pushed and pulled, Vance kept his arms securely around me, alternating between singing the lyrics in my ear and giving it a nibble. I kept my eyes on the band as I lifted my hands and sang along, but my body was hyperaware of Vance behind me at all times. Together we were trapped in a melting pot of bodies, smashed and undulating in one tight space. I could only imagine that being in the pit was like being swallowed up by a giant orgy.

Sweat beaded on my skin. I wasn’t sure how much of it was even mine. Even so, I distinctly knew which hands belonged to Vance, along with his voice, his steps and his breath. I conformed to him. Our bodies were so attuned, I could pick him out of the entire crowd with my eyes closed.

I was once curious what it would be like to dance with Vance. Our chemistry had come to reveal itself in a physical way, and I’d wondered if it existed in more ways than one. Tonight, as I moved to the rhythm of his hips in the middle of a pulsating crowd, I got my answer.

Everything built to an intense crescendo of guitars, drums and voices. At one point he spun me around and held me flush against him, chest to chest, his forehead touching mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as his hands slid down to my waist. Together we moved like lovers; beautifully, sensually, powerfully; grasping each other at every point down the fronts of our bodies. The tantalizing beat flowed directly through us until we were both overtaken.

Mmm,
I closed my eyes as we rocked together.
Just like that.

The music added a heightened sensuality to our movements. My pulse pounded along with the beat—hot, fast and loud. Every time his hands connected with my body, I imagined other places they’d touched me in private. Whenever his hips collided with mine, it reminded me of the delicious friction we achieved when moving together just so. We may have been in the middle of a dark and crowded room, but that didn’t stop either one of us from mentally molesting one another.

All else forgotten, we danced like we were the only two people in the room. Every part of me demanded to be pressed against every part of him. Nothing existed but my man and this music.

When a new song began, he leaned in and spoke in my ear, “Listen, Rosie. They’re playing our song.”

Our eyes locked. I could see the colored lights flashing across his face. The song was one I hadn’t heard before. Less fast, more beseeching but full of hope. He continued dancing with me, sweeping and swaying fluidly as he mouthed the words to the song he picked out specially for me and him.

And as I listened to every lyric about the girl twisted in pitch black, and the boy offering to catch her when she fell, I agreed that it that might as well have been written for us. And it stole the very breath right out of my lungs.

The next song was hard and fast again, and when the audience got rowdy and started to shove, neither one of us wanted to keep up. Vance brought us to the back of the pit as a precaution. Since I couldn’t see over all the heads, he lifted me onto his shoulders. And there I sat, perched high above the crowd, watching my favorite band rock the house from a bird’s eye view.

I was convinced that few things in the world could make a girl this happy.

The band members hung out after the show to sign autographs and take photos with their fans. Even though I was totally shy and star struck, I wanted both. Vance used his phone to snap a picture of me with all four of them. Just standing next to such raw talent had me doe-eyed and speechless. But they were actually super nice. When they asked what my favorite song was, I told them,
“As Long As it Takes.”
The smile on Vance’s face was priceless.

We had some fun kicking back and people-watching. The other fans were pretty cool characters. The post-show buzz connected a building full of strangers through our common love of music.

A few hopefuls were handing out demo CDs and bumper stickers, trying to promote their own up-and-coming bands. I loved to support local music and knew how hard it was to get their name out there, so I was ecstatic to give their songs a listen.

While Vance hit the restroom, I made a pit stop at the merchandise table, then checked my cell and saw I’d missed a text.

Ricky: party tonight?

Dang it. This was from hours ago. I was sure by now he knew I wasn’t available. Figuring a response was pointless, I flipped the phone shut and buried it back in my pocket. I’d text him later.

I was nervous for Vance to return. When I finally saw him, I was hiding something behind my back, and quite conspicuously so. He looked curious, but before he had a chance to ask, I revealed to him the Spill Canvas t-shirt I’d just bought.

“Here,” I said, placing it in his hands. Wordlessly, he held it up to have a look. The shirt was green and had the band’s name over an outdoorsy scene with pine trees and a lake. After everything Vance had done for me, including tonight which was arguably one of the best nights of my life, it was the very least I could do.