I use the music, my vanilla shampoo and body wash, and the hot shower to wash away all the bad feelings about Derek. I am upset, but the sad fact is I am used to it. It’s not a thing that should happen so often a person can get used to it, but here we are. I know how to get back to normal relatively quickly, so by the time I’m walking out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, I’m feeling a little better about myself.
“So?” I say to Becca. “Any news on Connor?”
She turns off the screen on her phone, “Uh, nope, nothing to see here. No news whatsoever. My turn to shower.”
“I guess he’s dead to us then, huh? Probably a major dickhead, cheated on his wife, abandoned his kids, something like that?” I ask her. I changed my mind, I want to know even if it’s bad.
“Yeah, something like that.” She bolts to the bathroom like her ass is on fire and the water is running not 10 seconds later. She’s going to be pissed when she realizes she didn’t bring a towel.
I decide to let it go and just find some clothes to get dressed in. Walking into my bedroom, I see the boxes that we’ve stacked there. Might as well unpack while I look for some clothes. I pull out the box that has most of my clothes and start going through it. I put my underwear into the top drawer of the dresser and set aside a black lace thong to wear tonight. Sexy underwear for a sexy lady, I think to myself with a chuckle as I pull them into place. “Good thing I had a wax recently, or I’d have bush hanging over the edges of this thing. That would not be comfortable at all.” I mutter. I don’t much care about pubic hair either way, but some underwear styles call for less hair than others. A little further down in the clothes box I find my favourite skinny jeans, the ones with rips all up the fronts of the legs and pull those on too.
“Hey Alex?” I hear Becca yell from the hallway. She must’ve just realized she forgot her towel. “Can you pass me a towel?” Ha, called it.
“Yeah, just a sec,” I yell back to her. “Be right there.” Quickly digging through the box, I pull out an old Nirvana t-shirt that belonged to my dad, and throw it on before I go into the hallway. I grab a towel and pass it to Becca. “I should let you suffer and drip dry for not telling me what you found out about Connor, but I can’t do that to you. I’m the one who asked you not to tell me after all.”
“I have some news, but I don’t want to tell you right now, not before the show. It’s very interesting though, and I think you’re going to be surprised.” She has a kind of mischievous look on her face, but that’s not all that unusual for Becca. She always looks like she’s up to something. I blame it on her perfectly shaped eyebrows. She draws them on in such a way that she always looks interested and slightly surprised. The effect is unnerving, like she’s looked into your soul and seen your darkest secrets and finds them cute.
“Oh? Good news? He’s not a dickhead?”
I’m adjusting my shirt in the hallway mirror. I cut the neck out ages ago, so now it’s more of an off-the-shoulder top than the t-shirt they originally intended it to be. The opening exposes my left shoulder and shows off my half sleeve tattoo, dark pink peonies that creep up onto the back of my shoulder. I may not be as inked up as Becca, but I really love my peonies. I didn’t put on a bra before I put the shirt on, but luckily (or unluckily I sometimes think) my boobs are nothing to write home about, so I’ve decided just to go braless. The shirt was a little long when I stole it from Dad, so, aside from cutting the neck out, I also made it into a cropped shirt, a little shorter in the front than the back. This makes wearing it braless a little more risky in the coverage department, but I’m looking for comfort tonight.
Making a mental note not to do any cartwheels at the show so I can avoid flashing my tits, I go back into my room to grab some shoes and to tie up my hair. I’m not even going to attempt drying tonight, so I just put it into a messy bun on top of my head and leave it at that. I quickly swipe on some black mascara and a little vanilla scented lip gloss, and that completes the look. High maintenance makeup queen, I am not, but I do tuck the lip gloss into my pocket in case I need to touch it up later. Most days I wear no makeup at all; it would just melt off of me in a hot kitchen, anyway.
“I don’t think he’s a complete dickhead.” comes the answer from Becca’s room. She must be getting dressed now, too. “Decide that for yourself when I tell you. But not until after the show.”
“Ugh, fine. You suck.” I pretend to be frustrated, but I understand. She just wants us to have fun without me worrying about old boyfriends, whether that be Connor or Derek. “Can you tell me what kind of music this is, at least? How likely am I to get stomped on?”
“They’re pretty hard rock so I wouldn’t wear heels,”
I love how Becca knows exactly what I was getting at. We’ve been to enough local shows to know that mosh pits break out at most rock shows, and it’s every girl for herself at that point. There are usually a bunch of big dudes around the outside of the pit who will help people who need it, though, so it’s not really all that dangerous. We’ll have Becca’s camera equipment with us, so we probably won’t get too close to that kind of action, but better to be safe than sorry.
“Gotcha. Trusty old Doc Martens it is.” I pull my boots out of my box full of shoes and then find some socks so I can put them on. “I swear wearing these boots is better than going barefoot It’s like they’re hugging me when I put them on.”
“That’s great,” Becca says, coming out of her room. She’s dressed in dark skinny jeans, a low cut, short-sleeved shirt with a picture of an anatomically correct heart on the front, and black Chuck Taylors. Her eyes are all lined in black and she’s wearing blood red lipstick. “I won’t remind you how long it took you to break them in then. All the blisters and blood.” She shivers at what must be the memory of me hobbling around with bloody feet.
“Totally worth it,” I say back to her. “These boots are now a part of me after all that trouble.”
“Not to mention chock full of your DNA.” Becca laughs.
I grab my phone, cash, and ID and put them in my pocket with the lip gloss I stashed there earlier. “Are we all set? I want to grab a coffee at Bump & Grind before we get there. I’ve been up since 4:00 am and I’m going to need some caffeine if I want to keep up with you tonight.”
“Yup,” she says, picking up her camera bag and checking to make sure she has everything she needs. “Let’s get out of here and find some sexy rock stars.”
“And just take their pictures, remember? I’m not into the whole ‘fuck a rock star’ plan.”
“Oh yeah, totally,” Becca says. “No rock star fucking for you, gotcha. I might just snag one for myself, though. It’s been awhile.”
She doesn’t sound like she believes me, though. “I’m serious Becca, I’m not looking to hook up with a serial cheater. Rock stars are basically cheating machines, and I am not down with that. Hard pass.”
“Yeah, I hear you Alex. No worries. I will not try to hook you up with anyone. I got your back, girl.”
For some reason, though, I don’t believe her.
* * *
“Shit, this place is bigger than I thought. I can’t remember the last time I came to a concert here. I thought we’d be going to a bar. Didn’t you say these guys were local?” I was busy looking around the arena while Becca was getting her camera set up for taking shots of the show. They’d blocked off one end of the arena floor, and all the seats on that end as well, to make the stage for the bands to perform. “Who did you say was playing again?”
“Opening act is some band called ‘Lives that Cared’ and the headliner is ‘Sleeping Dogs’. It’s the last night of the tour for both bands. They’re local because they live here, not because they’re small.” Becca seems proud of herself for fooling me. I was not expecting to go to an arena show, I was more geared up for a dive bar.
