FicWad

Author's Note: I don't know why this hasn't been uploading, but I finally got it to work! Yay! And, just as a side note, no, I don't know what a screw to the urethra would do, but it was funny. At least to me.

The lights were blinding. We were playing a small charity gig, nothing impressive, but the auditorium we were in was lit up like a joint on 4-20. All I could feel were guitar strings under my fingertips, my mouth forming the words “dance, dance” and Pete’s head resting gently on my shoulder. I felt the last one most of all. It was enough to make a guy forget the words to a song he’d played a hundred times before.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen.
I always marveled at the way Pete did that. It never fails – every show, he winds up at my shoulder, his sweat-soaked hair brushing my neck. I wonder if the crowd ever saw an enamored expression on my face, because “enamored” is the only way to describe the feelings that any contact with Pete brought up. He was more than a friend, or a band mate, or a crush – he was the personification of everything right with the world.
As I began to play “Hum Hallelujah,” I thought about how much I hated the song. Not because it was poorly written – the words were just as beautiful as any others I had seen come from Pete’s pen. It wasn’t even the heartbroken tone of the song. It was what it stood for more than anything else.
As with all of Pete’s songs, I asked what it meant. Who was it for? Why was it written? Was it autobiographical, or general, just a few words scratched out about a feeling once felt put not pinpointed, known but not identified?
“I wrote it a long time ago, when Ashlee said she didn’t want to get married,” he answered, fiddling with his wedding band. “I was bitter.” He smiled at me. “I guess I have to take it back now, though, don’t I?”
I didn’t want him to take it back. I wanted him to remember it, keep it in his heart, let it fester, and then let it rot their relationship from the inside out.
I never said I wasn’t vindictive.
The words “sometimes we take pills” never failed to put a shudder through me. I knew Pete felt it as we played, and he glanced questioningly up at me. I tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but I couldn’t help it.
When Pete had tried to kill himself, that day became the worst of my life. I got the call from him, and I felt so Goddamn far away, so helpless. I couldn’t be there with him. I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t even try. That was someone else’s job.
But it was supposed to be my job.
After that day, nothing could faze me. I still don’t know if that was good or bad. I barely felt it when my dad hung up after hearing me admit that I like guys. I think it would have hurt worse to have my mom not send me a Christmas card like she always did had I not gone through what I had.
How can anything compare to almost losing the person you love more than your own life?
I found my voice shaking, and I tried to steady it. It was a challenge just to keep my breath from catching on tears I’d forgotten I’d had. Something about the adrenaline, the heat, and the beating heart of the love of my life next to me had flipped a switch.
We went off the stage to screams of happiness, but I was shaking. What the hell is wrong with me? I thought.
But when I saw Ashlee and baby Bronx, I realized it.
It was their job to save him from now on.
That opportunity would never be mine.
“Hey, my big bad rock star!” Ashlee cooed, kissing Pete in a way that made it look like she was trying to scoop his tongue out of his mouth with her own. Joe cast me a look as he packed up his guitar. I kept my eyes on my own guitar case.
“There’s my two favorite girls,” Pete said when he finally came up for air. Andy and I exchanged glances that said, “Well, no shit.”
“Pete, we’re going out for a drink. Wanna come?” Andy was checking his stupid watch again. I tossed a shirt at him.
“If we’re going to a bar, you’re gonna want to be fully dressed.” I stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Especially if we’re going to the kind of bar that makes appletinis.”
“Hey, shut the fuck up,” Andy snapped, pulling on the shirt. “They’re a good drink.”
Joe just laughed. “Sometimes I think you’re gayer than Pat.”
Andy shrugged. “I think most people are gayer than Pat. Pat’s just not very gay.”
Joe nodded. “Not very gay at all.”
“A terrible excuse for a homosexual,” Andy added.
“Truly the straightest of the gays.” Joe shook me slightly. I rolled my eyes.
“There’s just nothing gay about Pat,” Andy concluded.
Pete laughed. “You mean except the ‘having sex with guys’ thing?”
“To them, that’s a minor detail,” I reminded him. “So, are you coming with us or not?”
Ashlee was shooting him a dangerously bitchy look, but Pete shrugged. “Yeah, sure. We haven’t done anything in a while.”
“Two and a half weeks.” Andy checked his watch (which also had the date, moon cycle, and a calculator). “And even then you picked up a couple pizzas and left.”
Ashlee turned on her heel and stormed out, angry, I’m sure, that she wasn’t the center of attention. It didn’t matter – Pete was coming with us, and that’s all that any of us cared about.
The bar that we went to was one that we had discovered in college, not long after we began playing together. It was pretty much a gay bar – most of the patrons were gay – but it had nothing to do with leather or sex, like the kind of places you see on TV. For a bar, it was pretty classy, with nice plush couches and fat armchairs sitting around the dance floor. I ordered a Coke (I’ve never been much of a drinker). Joe and Pete wanted Budweiser. Andy was left ordering the girliest thing on the menu – the brand new chocotini.
“Omigawd, how fetch!” Joe squealed when the chocotini was plunked on the table. Andy glared and gave it a small sip.
“How is it?” Pete asked.
“Not bad.” Andy took another drink. “Like an alcoholic Tootsie Roll.”
“I wanna see your Tootsie Roll,” Joe said in a deep, half-pedophile voice, and I nearly choked on my Coke. Joe was pretty funny when I wasn’t the butt of his jokes.
Andy, for what was probably the fifth time in his life, blushed. “Dude, not here! There are gay dudes here! They might think I’m…” He lowered his voice. “You know.”
“If you keep drinking chocotinis, then yeah, they will think you’re… You know.” Pete took a drink and looked around. “Man, I really missed this place.” He gave me a grin. “I almost forgot how fun it was to get out of the house.”
“Hey.” A guy who I recognized from the light from my bedroom window appeared at my shoulder. The last time I’d seen him, his head was on my pillow.
Seeing as I had only ever had sex with three people, and it had been a good year and a half since I had even kissed somebody, I couldn’t help but recognize him. He didn’t seem to recognize me – or, if he did, he kindly ignored me in favor of resting his gaze on the drink in Andy’s hand. Andy gulped, and Joe smirked.
Joe smirked, that is, until another guy showed up, giving him the same up-and-down stare Andy was receiving.
“You two wanna dance?” the second one asked with a cheery grin. I noticed then that the two of them had handkerchiefs in their pockets – the one leering at Andy had a leopard-print one in his right pocket, while the one making eyes at Joe had a teal one poking out of his left pocket. Having learned more about ‘70s gay culture than could possibly be useful, I recognized the symbols easily.
And decided that it was time to pay my asshole friends back for everything they’d ever done to me.
“Of course they do!” I chirped, grabbing the drinks from my friends’ hands and giving them to a waiter to take away. “Just a little shy, that’s all.”
Pete surprised me with his willingness to participate in the torture. “Yeah. They don’t think they’re very good dancers,” he said in a stage whisper to the two. I had to keep my eyes on the tablecloth to keep from laughing. Joe’s face was contorted in shock, and Andy’s mouth was moving with nothing but tiny squeaks and hisses coming out.
“They’re also a little worried they’re not, you know…” Pete dropped his voice sympathetically. “Attractive.”
The two men gave Andy and Joe a quick, sad glance.
“But hey.” I tapped Andy’s man on the wrist. “Why don’t you prove them wrong? I’m sure they’d love to get to know you two.”
“Well, sure!” the second said, grabbing the stunned Joe’s hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, boys. You’re in good hands.” He gave Joe a wink and he and his partner pulled their prey out to the dance floor.
The second they were out of sight, I threw a few bills down on the table, turned to Pete, and said, “Let’s run for it.”
Pete looked even more shell-shocked than Andy and Joe just had. “Run for it?” he repeated quietly. “You mean… Ditch them?”
I shrugged. “They’d do the same to us, wouldn’t they?”
He looked caught. He glanced back at the writhing dance floor, then stared at the door.
He jumped up. “Come on, let’s go before they see us.”
We raced out, hitched a cab, and laughed our way back to my house. By the time we got in the door, I was ready to collapse from howls.
“Did you see the handkerchiefs?” I sobbed, grabbing onto the counter for support.
Pete could only nod. He was trying to get his breath back, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Do you know what they meant?” I asked.
Pete shook his head, still rocking with laughter.
I took a deep breath. “Andy’s guy,” I giggled, “likes tattoos. No big deal.”
Pete shook his head again, managing a tiny, winded, “No big deal.”
“The other guy…” I had to fight back the laughter that I knew was coming back. “The other guy is a genital torturer.”
That was it. Pete slipped to the linoleum with laughter so harsh that it was silent. I finally joined him, sliding down the cabinets to my knees.
It must’ve taken us a good fifteen minutes to get over it. By the end, we were wiping our eyes and gasping for air.
“Ohhh, man,” Pete muttered, still chuckling. “Oh. God, poor Joe.”
“Fuck Joe,” I replied. “He once tied me to a doorknob and paid a homeless guy to pee on me. I think the time’s right for a little revenge.”
“He got a homeless guy to pee on you? Where the hell was I?”
“It was back in high school.”
“Wow.”
“Joe was a dick in high school.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
I took a deep breath and leaned back against the cabinet. “I’m surprised I don’t feel guilty.” I looked over at Pete. “I bet you missed this kind of stuff, huh?”
“Yeah. Marriage will do that.” He gave me a tiny smile. “Listen.” He sat up a little straighter, suddenly serious. “Listen, man. It’s just me and you right now.”
I nodded, trying to ignore a quivering deep in my stomach.
“So you can be perfectly honest?”
“Of course, Pete.”
“Why is it that you hate Ashlee?”
I groaned. That was the last thing I wanted to talk about. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious!” Pete grabbed my shoulder. “Why don’t you like her?”
“Maybe because you never shut the hell up about her.” I stood up and began pacing. “Just… I don’t like her, okay?”
“But why?” Goddamn, he was persistent.
“Because, she just…” I shook my head, frustrated. “I don’t know the words.”
“Just try.”
I puffed out my cheeks, trying to think. I finally exhaled. “I guess she just doesn’t see what she has.”
“What do you mean?”
I was in hell. Why the fuck didn’t he want me to describe it. “She’s a bitch” just wouldn’t suffice?
“Just… Think about it.” I snatched off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. “You give her everything. I mean, you have a kid with her, and she doesn’t fucking care. You marry her, and she doesn’t fucking care. You buy her anything and everything, you’re her slave, and she doesn’t fucking care!” I shook my head. “No offense, but you fucked up pretty bad, picking someone so Goddamned unappreciative.”
Pete looked stunned at my honesty. It was like I’d just stabbed his dog in front of him.
“Jesus, Pat, where’d all that come from?” he breathed.
“You told me to be honest!” I snapped. “I hate her. I thought you knew that.”
“Well, yeah, but… Wow.”
“I told you. If you don’t want to know, maybe you shouldn’t ask.” I leaned back against the fridge, crossing my arms. “All I know is that I’d fucking kill to have someone write a love song for me.”
He didn’t answer. After a few minutes of sitting, still slumped on the floor, he stood, brushed himself off, and left without looking back.
About an hour later, Andy and Joe threw themselves inside, looking angry as hell. “What the hell was that shit?!” Joe shrieked, throwing a vase at me (fortunately missing). I noticed his shirtsleeve was torn, and Andy’s shirt was gone. Which wouldn’t have surprised me, but he had his arms wrapped protectively around himself.
“I feel dirty, Pat,” he moaned. “So fucking dirty…”
It took everything I had not to laugh. I wanted to stay in a pissy mood, but it was getting more and more difficult every second. Joe limped in, his eyes crazy and glued to me.
“Do you know why I’m limping?” Joe asked dangerously.
“I… Can guess,” I said quietly. I had to hold a hand in front of my mouth to disguise my grin. He looked way too insane to piss off.
“I’m limping,” Joe explained quietly, “because I just had a screw shoved halfway up my penis.”
That was it, I couldn’t help it. I broke down. My abdomen ached from laughter. “A screw?” I screamed. “A screw? Why the hell did you let him near your cock?”
“I HAD TO PEE AND HE WAS HELPING ME!” Joe shouted. That just made it worse – I was crying. “I thought he was just being nice!”
“What about you?” I choked, looking over at the still-white-and-shuddering Andy.
“He touched me, Pat. He touched me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Joe snapped. “You didn’t have hardware in your pecker.”
“He grabbed a nipple, Pat!” Andy shouted, making me jump. “A fucking nipple!” He pointed at the pink spots on his chest. “These are MINE, Goddammit! MY nipples!”
“I can see that,” I gasped.
Andy grabbed me by the shirt and hauled me up, shaking me violently. “You know I put out when I’m drunk!” he yelled. “You know, and you took advantage of me!”
“No I didn’t,” I told him. “That guy at the bar took advantage of you.”
Andy threw me down and skulked to the fridge. “You are the biggest asshole I have ever fucking met.”
“With the biggest ass I’ve ever fucking seen,” Joe added for good measure.
Even that couldn’t faze me. Fat jokes couldn’t invade on the sweet entertainment of watching Joe grab an ice pack and slap it over his crotch.
“You know, if you hate me so much, maybe you should get out of my house,” I told them. All they did was glare. Joe rearranged his pack and winced.
I snickered. “Sorry, guys.”
“Whatever.” A cold root beer had calmed Andy down considerably. He flung himself on my couch. “So, where’s Pete?”
“Did you see little Pete?” Joe asked, feigning innocence.
“In the dark?”
“Under the covers?”
“Did he light up the room with his flashlight?”
“And by flashlight, we mean penis.”
“And by the room, we mean you.”
“And by light up, we mean butt fuck.”
I snorted. “Yeah, guys. That’s why I’m jumping around and dancing.” I sighed. “Don’t worry, I still have my new-found virginity intact.” I sat down next to Andy and looked down at my stomach. “And if I don’t lose weight, I have a good feeling it’ll stay that way.”
“Even if you do lose weight, it’ll stay that way,” Joe joked, bordering on cruel. “You’re one unattractive little leprechaun.”
“Wow, Joe, anger much?” Andy replied.
“I had a Goddamn screw shoved up my dick,” Joe answered, scowling. “I can say whatever I damn well please.”
“He’s got a point,” I admitted. “No, I told Pete what I think of Ashlee, and he got mad and left.”
Joe sat up so quick he gave a gasp of pain and laid gingerly back down. “For real?” he asked breathlessly, holding down the ice pack. “You told him you love him?”
“God no!” I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that’d be a fun conversation. Face it, Pete thinks of me as a brother.”
“A brother you never, ever wanna have sex with,” Andy nodded sympathetically.
I ran a hand over my face, suddenly tired. “I just wish I knew what he sees in her.” I turned to Joe. “What do you think he likes in a guy?”
Joe shrugged. “He seems to like Johnny Depp.”
“Dude, I’m straight and I like Johnny Depp,” Andy snapped. “I think he likes guys… Like him.”
“You know, like, in his league. Not ugly motherfuckers like you,” Joe explained.
“Gee, thanks. Want another screw up your cock?” I was back in my bad mood. Even Joe’s look of anguish when I smacked his crotch didn’t cheer me up.
“It’s just… Ashlee… It’s like she’s blind,” I mumbled. “How can she not see how lucky she is? She had something that I would fucking die for, and she doesn’t even care about it.”
“Yeah, well…” Joe looked awkward. He seemed to want to continue being mean to me, but he obviously didn’t have the heart.
Andy reached over and shook my shoulder. “Hey, don’t feel bad, man. You’re gonna find someone, and you’re gonna have a great life. Good things happen to good people.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shook him off and pointed at the door. “Now get the hell out, will you? I want to brood in silence.”

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