I nodded and yelled, “I’ll be here,” which sounded way less cute in scream-speak.
He disappeared into the crowd, and I took a breath and let it out. As excited as I had been to see Bodie, he was angry and tense, and it was my fault. The combination of me going radio silent, him having to wait an hour for me in the hundred degree heat, and the fact that we hadn’t talked about anything we wanted to — it was almost too much to bear in the span of a few minutes.
It all of a sudden felt like a kamikaze mission, and I clambered for a way to salvage the night.
A few minutes after he left, he was back with a fresh drink, looking a little more relaxed. He smiled and brought his lips to my ear. “I found another bar upstairs, it was empty.”
I reached up on my tiptoes to get to his ear in return. “Good. Thank you.”
He repeated the ridiculous motion to get to my ear, the frustrating lag in conversation pissing me off.
“You’re welcome.” He ran a strand of my blue hair through his fingers. “You changed your hair.”
I nodded, our lips had found places, our cheeks almost pressed together so we didn’t have to move. “You like it?”
“It’s different,” he answered enigmatically just as the crowd began to cheer.
I turned to find the opening band making their way onto the stage, raising their hands to the crowd as they picked up their instruments. And just like that, any shot we’d had to talk was blown.
We bounced around to the opening band, pounding drinks. By the time their set was finished, Bodie and I hadn’t spoken, and we’d each had three doubles. This could have been a good thing, except for the fact that we were both drinking to ease our nerves. Or at least I was. Bodie seemed to be drinking so he could tolerate me.
He went to get us our fourth drink during the set change. And by the time he got back, the lights were dimming, and the crowd screamed and clapped as Rodney walked out from backstage.
It was then that I realized something very important — far too late for it to matter.
I’d had a lot of bad ideas in my life, but agreeing to meet Bodie at Lucky’s that night was hands down the worst.
My breath was still, my eyes blinking as Rodney fucking Parker — my albatross and cross to bear — took the microphone in a leather jacket and skinny jeans, looking like a goddamn motherfucking god.
He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man with a guitar and a voice and that hair and those hands. I was like a bug in a spiderweb with my eyes locked onto Rodney as I struggled to break free. For two years, I’d been obsessed with him even though he hurt me, and there he was, in the flesh, a grown man, resurrected. My past stood there before me, and my future stood next to me whole I stood in the middle, completely frozen from the unanticipated shock of it all.
If I’d been able to form a cognizant thought, I would have grabbed Bodie’s hand and run out of that stuffy, steamy, loud room like it was on fire. But since my brain had ceased primary functions, I found myself stuck to the spot with my mouth open and my drink warming in my hand.
It was bad. So, so bad.
I found my wits somewhere near the end of the set, stiff drink in my hand and stiff Bodie next to me. I snuck a glance at him and found him somehow looking even more pissed than he had when I walked up an hour late.
Disaster. Complete fucking disaster.
I slammed my drink, teetering a little under the burn as the no-longer-chilled tequila made its way through my esophagus, and then there was only one thing to do — get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible.
I grabbed Bodie’s hand and lifted my chin, tilting my head to indicate I wanted to talk to him, and he lowered his face so I could reach his ear.
“Let’s go,” I said hastily and with a little bit of a slur.
He nodded, everything about him softening with relief, but before we could even take a step, Rodney was on the mic, and I heard my name.
“Penny! Hey, guys,” Rodney said, his voice rumbling at a trillion decibels from forty-eight-million speakers. “Check it out. See that girl there with the blue hair and the hips that could knock a motherfucker out?”
He pointed straight at me, and everyone turned around to gawk, except Bodie. Bodie stared at Rodney like he wanted to separate his head from his body.
“Come on up here, Pen.”
I shook my head.
“Come on! Help me out, guys. Pen-ny. Pen-ny. Pen-ny.”
The entire fucking joint was chanting my name, and the next thing I knew, I was being pulled toward the stage by strangers, looking back over my shoulder at Bodie, begging for him to save me, begging for him to forgive whatever was about to happen.
I was lifted up and put on the stage, and before I could even protest, I was in Rodney’s arms, pressed up against his chest as I angled away, scanning the crowd for Bodie, but I couldn’t see shit. I didn’t even know how Rodney had picked me out.
Stupid fucking hair. Dead giveaway.
“So, you might know Penny from her TV show, Tonic.”
The crowd cheered.
“Well, wouldn’t you know it? Penny used to be my girlfriend a long, long time ago, but I was a stupid little prick back then.” His tone was self-deprecating, and I didn’t buy it at all. “I wrote some of your favorite songs for her because, let me tell you something — you don’t forget a girl like Penny.”
He turned to me, all smiles as he let me go and stepped back, slinging his guitar from back to front, calling the song to the guys, and the drummer kicked off the beat.
And I stood there on the fucking stage with a hundred lights on me, a screaming crowd — minus one pissed off Bodie — singing along as Rodney serenaded me with their biggest hit. The song was a drug-and-addiction metaphor for love, all about this muse who had ruined him, left him hanging to dry, spent and tired and needing more.
I felt like he’d gotten his wires crossed about what had gone down between us.
I was shocked and stunned, locked to the spot to the side of the stage by the expectations of several hundred people. I couldn’t walk off without causing a scene, and there were all those faces and eyes and lights — so many lights, blinding and sharp — pinning me down as a zillion thoughts zinged through my head.
I legitimately want to die.
Where did Bodie go?
God, there are so many people staring at me right now.
I should get an award for being so fucking dumb.
Fuck, it’s so loud. This is ridiculous.
I should walk. But what if he stops the song? Then everyone is going to boo.
Do I even care?
Yes, yes, I care if three hundred people boo me.
Bodie’s watching. He’s got to be so pissed. I would be a raging psycho.
Why didn’t we leave? We should have left.
What the fuck do I do with my hands?
I should have fucking called this off. Stupid, Penny. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Am I supposed to smile? Dance? Sing along? I don’t even know the damn words.
Seriously, death would be a welcome release. Any second now, I’ll get struck by lightning and be put out of my misery.