Desole finds herself in a sticky situation and Gerard tried his best to be there for her.
After that night, a lot changed. I stopped drinking before shows because it caused my performance to suffer and the fans deserved better than my drunken stupor. But just because I stopped before shows didn’t mean I stopped entirely. I was still my wild partying self, getting smash hammered every night and ending up with my head in the toilet the next morning. Another thing that changed was Gerard and I. We weren’t at each other’s throats anymore, or I wasn’t at his. He had never really fought with me. We weren’t exactly friends, but I no longer hated him. It was a nice change, one that I was actually pretty happy about.
“You look pretty. Pretty skanky.” Milo joked as I smeared black eyeliner over my eye lid. I chuckled and pinched a bit of silver glitter in between my fingers and sprinkling it over my closed eyes. I blinked a few times and looked in the mirror; perfect.
“So… Gerard is gonna be out with us tonight.” Milo said slyly. I shot him a kind of confused glance as I pulled my pink tights up over my freshly shaved legs.
“So?” I asked, stepping into my mini skirt. Milo snickered to himself. “What? Tell me!” I whined.
“I think he likes you.” Milo said, still smirking. I laughed a little uneasily and tried to brush it off.
“Shut up! No way!” I said defensively. Milo kept laughing and I felt myself blush.
“He totally does! Have you seen the way he’s always gazing after you? Or how about when he blushes and shifts his hair in front of his face when you walk into the room.” Milo teased. I smacked his arm playfully, but what he was saying was true. Gerard did always act like a crushing teenager around me, but I never really noticed until we stopped fighting.
“So why are you telling me this?” I asked, turning my attention back to the mirror.
“I dunno, figured you would want to know. In case he tries something tonight.” Milo said with a wink. I gaped at him, laughing and smacked his arm again.
Gerard wouldn’t try something with me, would he? No, he was way too shy for that. Would I let him try something is the real question? I don’t know, maybe if the circumstances were right. Probably not, we were barely even friends none the less a couple. Besides, I wasn’t interested in a relationship. They were too messy and people’s feeling always got hurt. But you never know…
I was feeling like Desolé and I were on the right track. We weren’t exactly friends, but at least she didn’t hate my guts anymore. I felt relived that we had cleared things up. I didn’t think I could stand it if she was hurt by me. She didn’t deserve to be hurt, she deserved to be treated like a fucking princess. And maybe one day I would get the chance.
But tonight I decided to go out “clubbing” with Desolé and her band instead of just sitting around drinking with the guys. It might be nice to get out for a while, maybe party with some regular folks instead of the people we were touring with. And I knew it would be nice to go out and maybe spend some alone time with Desolé. Who knows, tonight could be the night. It was at least worth a shot.
So I drove out and met them at this weird club called Lift. I spotted them outside at the front of the line. Desolé was what had caught my eye. How could she not though? She was like a sparkling diamond in the midst of a pile of coal. She was, as Shakespeare said “like fresh snow on a ravens back”. Desolé was wearing opaque pink tights, a black leather skirt so short it could’ve been mistaken for a belt and lots of black eyeliner and glitter with her long yellow hair down and free flowing as usual. She grinned and waved me other. I beamed at her and shuffled my way other noticing her six inch platform heels.
“Sorry for the wait, this is who we were waiting for.” Desolé explained to the bouncer at the door. The guy was like a brick wall, towering over everybody. The bouncer huffed and let us through.
We stepped inside and were met by blaring electro pop music, black lights and glow sticks. I never went into clubs like this before tonight so I was unsure of how to act or what to do. I saw people in skimpy clothes dancing, swaying, dry humping and going absolutely crazy. Milo and the other band mates kissed Desolé’s glitter speckled cheeks before prancing off into the club. She looked exuberant and was about to bounce away herself when she realized that I was still standing beside her, all awkward and unsure of myself.
“Have you ever been to a club like this?” she called over the ear-numbing music. I shook my head kind of nervously and she giggled a little bit which made me even more nervous. She was nearly ten years younger than me, how in the hell was she supposed to know about these types of things?
“Come with me!” she said, suddenly taking my hand and pulling me through the flashing Christmas lights and people. I felt myself blush when she clasped her dainty, soft fingers around mine. She pulled me to a quieter part of the club where there weren’t as many people and the music wasn’t so loud.
“Let’s start off with a few drinks, get things cooking.” she said slyly. She called over and waiter and ordered a round of whiskey. “Y’know, I used to work in a club kind of like this…” she said thoughtfully.
“Were you a waitress?” I asked. I wanted to take this opportunity to get to know her better She chuckled and shook her head no.
“No, I was a stripper.” she smirked. I raised my eyebrows. She was only eighteen! When in the world did she have the time to be a stripper?
“How’d you manage that?” I asked. I was truly curious at this point. She was eighteen and she had already lived so much.
“When I was fifteen I ran away from home. I lived on the streets in east L.A for a while and got tired of being poor and starving all the time so I looked for work. And the only place that would hire a bad kid like myself was a strip club. That’s also how I met my first girlfriend Leah and where I acquired my love of platform heels.” she explained, a happy reminiscent smile playing on her lips.
“That’s crazy…” was all I could manage to say at first. “Did you have a stage name?” I blurted out. Desolé laughed loudly and I felt my face get hot.
“Yeah, it was Short And Sweet because of my height.” she grinned broadly. I laughed a little too at how fitting the stage name was.
“What happened to Leah?” I asked. Desolé frowned a little bit and I felt guilty. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if its too personal.” I added quickly.
“No, no its okay. The club got busted on a drug sting and they found out I was under aged so they decided to ship me back to my mothers. That was the last time I saw her. A few weeks later I got a letter saying she overdosed.” Desolé explained grimly.
“I’m really sorry. That just sounds like…” my voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to make of this, but I was genuinely sorry for what had happened. I could hear the love for Leah wedged in Desolé’s voice.
“Yeah, pretty shitty. But I’m not mad about what happened anymore. I’m not completely over it, I mean I think about her all the time and every day something happens that I wish I could tell her. But I’m okay. I’m okay.” she said kind of to herself. The waiter came back with our shots of whiskey a few seconds later.
“Whoo! Let’s quit this sappy talk and get our drink on!” Desolé cheered, eagerly taking the shots from the waiter. Desolé downed hers one right after the other. I didn’t touch mine, I just watched her. The sharp liquor hit her tongue and her face scrunched up before she swallowed it down.
“Are you gonna finish those?” she asked when she finished her shots and noticed I hadn’t taken mine. Before I even answered, she threw them back. I laughed a little, she could hold her booze better than I could. Within a few minutes, she was really tipsy.
She rested her chin on the table and reached out and grabbed my hands. I was a little shocked, but thought it was pretty darn cute. She twined her fingers through mine, playing with both our hands and smiling to herself. She was drunk, but ordered more shots with no intention of stopping. When the whiskey got back she downed it all and went back to playing with my hands, tracing the lines and running her fingers over my palms.
“Cold hands…” I said a little nervously.
“Your’s too…big, like my fathers.” she said with a tiny smile. “Do you wanna dance?” she asked suddenly, perking up. She hopped down from our little table, tugging me along.
“With you?” I asked, still feeling unsure and uneasy.
“No, Gerard, with my father!” she said sarcastically. I stood still, having no idea what was going to come next. “Come ON, Gerard! Let’s get wild! This diva needs her stage! Let’s have fun!” Desolé encouraged loudly. I only stood there and blinked at her. She rolled her eyes and jumped from the floor, to the stool, to the table top. I felt my eyes widen as I watched her.
Why was she acting so crazy? She’s only had a few shots. That was enough to make you tipsy, but not enough to make you dance on tables. She stumbled over her high heels and fell off of the table and onto me. We hit the ground with a thud and I got the breath knocked out of me.
“Woah! What just happened?” Desolé slurred. It was like with every passing minute she got more and more drunk. I gently shoved her off of me and noticed her eyes. Her pupils were going crazy, one was wider than the other. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates. Somebody had to have done something to her drink. She was tripping balls. I had to get help. I didn’t know what to do in this situation. I felt helpless and sacred.
“Des, listen to me. We’ve gotta find Milo and the others and get out of here. It think you need to see a doctor. How do you feel? Are you okay?” I asked over the loud music as I helped her up. She wasn’t even really listening to me. She was too busy looking around, seeming confused, scared and in awe all at the same time.
“I feel AMAZING!” she shouted in a very high pitched voice. I cringed as she spun around, flailing her arms.
“Okay, we need to go. Let’s go find Milo.” I said, taking her by the wrist and trying to lead her through the club. Desolé shook her head and stood firmly in place. I sighed in exasperation. “Des, come on! We have to go, you’re in trouble!” I said urgently. She cackled and shook her head again.
“Ugh! Fine!” I said, throwing my hands up. I did the only thing I could think to do; I picked her up off the ground and slung her over my shoulder. She was really easy to carry and lift because she so thin and so short. It was like carrying a five year who was throwing a tantrum. We probably looked insane, but nobody even looked up as we made our way through the club in search of Milo and everybody else. I was honestly terrified of what could happen. What if Desolé started convulsing? What if she had some weird sort of seizure? Why would somebody put something in somebody else’s drink like that?
“MILO!” I shouted out when I spotted him dancing and drinking with some other people. He turned around and the moment he saw me with Desolé he stopped in his tracks and rushed over.
“Holy shit what are you doing?” he asked. I set her down on her feet and she wobbled a bit, laughing hysterically. “What’s with her?” Milo asked, chuckling at her. Why wasn’t he taking this seriously.
“Somebody put something in her drink, I’m telling you.” I explained. Milo cupped Desolé’s face in his hands and looked in her crazy hyper dilated eyes.
“Yeah, somebody definitely did. Its probably ecstasy knowing the people here. It’s pretty harmless. She can’t overdose on it or anything. We should probably get her out of here though. All these crazy lights…I don’t want her to have a seizure or something.” Milo said, examining her carefully.
“Okay then let’s get it out of here.” I said kind of impatiently. Milo left for a second to pay for our drinks and I waited, staring around at all the crazy people who were going nuts, Desolé included.
And of course, I take my eyes off of her for no less than two minutes and suddenly I hear-
“Hey, you’re that bitch from that band, right?” I turn around and saw some drunken mess of a girl approaching Desolé. I was apprehensive about what to do next.
“Yeah, what‘s it to ya?” Desolé retorted in her smart mouthed way.
“THIS!” the drunk chick screamed, whipping a bottle out from behind her back and smashing it right into Desolé’s face. My heart stopped and I felt pure liquid rage coursing through my veins. Desolé passed out almost instantly and fell to the floor, her face all cut up and bleeding.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?” I bellowed, pouncing at her attacker. Milo appeared behind me and struggled to hold me back while the laughing, drunken attacker scurried off into the crowd. People were stopping to stare at the scene we were causing. What was going on? What had just happened? Why did it seem like everybody here was out to hurt her?
“Gerard, cool your jets! We don’t have time for this!” Milo said, pushing past me and rushing over to Desolé’s side. “Come on, help me get her up!” Milo shouted over to me. I flew over and picker her up again, wedding style. Milo helped me pushed past everybody in our way to the entrance where we came in.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I was in shock. It had all happened so fast…I looked down at Desolé as we piled into my car. There were tiny shards of glass wedged in her skin and blood gushing from her wounds. It was a gruesome and terrifying sight. I was almost sick as we put her limp body in the backseat. Milo sat in the back with her, keeping her head up, trying to rouse her from her sleep.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything. I was panicked. The only thing I could even think to do was just drive to the nearest hospital and hope to god everything would work out.