I’m very close to exploding when Amber throws out, “It’s really more like masturbation.”
“Masturbation on a grand scale,” Shashi concurs enthusiastically.
That’s about the time my soul leaves my body. I’m ready. I’m ready to be dead and gone and floating off to Heaven or Hell or Purgatory, or wherever universe-destroying megalomaniacs end up.
Or maybe this is it? Maybe I’m dead and in Hell already. It certainly feels like it.
But truly, no one deserves to be paraded about and judged by Non Jovi and their groupies in a cold basement in the middle of London after an incredibly shitty night, all for one fleeting kiss that, even if it was the best kiss anyone in humanity ever had ever, won’t ever be repeated.
The fake sound of a camera shutter draws my attention. Shashi’s actually photographing my work.
“What is going on?” I pretty much shout, not just at her, but at all of them. “I need to-to-to go to bed and… this place is too small and… there’s a gunman on the loose, and shouldn’t you all be at home, or talking to the police or something?”
“That’s what I said,” Amber offers, then settles in a little deeper with another sip of beer.
Click!
“I did call them,” Richie says.
“Well, maybe you want to call again?” I suggest. “From your house. They might want you to answer questions. Maybe even at the station?”
Click!
“Yeah, I guess we could go to the station,” Dave muses.
“I’m not going back to Camden,” argues Tico.
Click!
“You can’t stay here,” I declare, and Amber gives me such a hurt look, as though we know each other at all, that I feel the need to explain, “There’s no space!”
“Yeah, that’s true.” She sighs as she looks over the even more messy than usual room. “We could all go back to mine.”
“Good idea!” I clap my hands together with finality.
Click!
“Are you coming, August?” She means the other August, but he looks straight at me.
“No,” he says tentatively, holding my eye contact, like he wants me to tell him one way or another. But he needs to go, because if he stays… “I think I’ll stay here?”
“Then I’m staying too,” says Jon.
Fucking hell.
“No. No, there isn’t room… I need to sleep. I…” My hand at my temple, I take in the careless, unbothered faces. “August, can we?” I tilt my head towards the door, and he nods, climbing over half a dozen outstretched legs along the way to follow me.
It’s dark out here by the elevator, but I don’t push the light on. It’s the closest thing to peace I’m going to get, the air cooler, even if it’s musty, fresher than in there.
Lamplight streams out of the doorway to set August’s face aglow when he moves in front of me, head dipped in collusion, eyes a mixture of concerned and happy.
“Can you get them out of here?” I begin.
He has the smallest tremor of a smile when he says, “Of course. Shashi just wanted to take a look. I’ll move them on. But… um… I can…” My heart pounds out an anxious rhythm while I wait on his words. His head pops up, and the resolution to give this a shot straightens his shoulders. “I could come back.”
“You should get some sleep.”
Instant crumple.
