And just like that, I was back on my bullshit, telling my parents I was spending the night at Sabrina’s, which actually pleased my mom because she thought I’d been spending too much time holed up in my room. Only this time, I really did intend to stay the night at her house, only after attending a bitchin’ rock show in Austin’s premiere outdoor arena.
Regardless of what happened that night, I wouldn’t go home with Seth. That was my hard-and-fast rule. But even after making that rule, I tucked a couple of condoms in my pocket. Just in case.
The show didn’t start until midnight, so I milled around the arts district with my hands shoved deep in my pockets, reflecting on the band’s journey in just a few months and how my birthday wish appeared to be coming true.
I stood in line outside The Tomahawk, even though I probably could have told the bouncer at the front that I was with the band.Number one groupie, I thought. How true. But I wanted to get the full outsider experience of waiting in line, letting that anticipation build, seeing the band under the lights for the first time... Maybe too, I was stalling. I hadn’t seen Seth in person for more than two months. I didn’t know what kind of hold he’d have over me, if any. Maybe I’d see him and feel nothing. I had mixed feelings about that too.
When I got to the front and gave them my name, the bouncer waved me in and even gave me a 21-and-over wristband so that I could order a drink from the bar if I wanted. The stage was still dark when I got inside, so I meandered from the bottom floor to the upper levels where people were starting to crowd together. I’d seen the Petty Crime posters out front, a black-and-white photograph of the band I’d taken a while back with their name in a messy, hot pink font. It had a very gritty Sex Pistols feel to it and I approved.
I bought a beer, even though I didn’t care for the taste of it. I figured it might settle my nerves and help me to relax.
The crowd was getting a little restless—midnight was late for any show to start—and just when it seemed they were on the brink of forming a mob, Petty Crime took the stage. Seth was wearing black leather pants, a bedazzled jacket—no shirt—and combat boots. Leather was Seth’s thing. He liked for me to wear it, and he liked to use it as a restraint during foreplay and sex. I avoided buying leather along with any other dead animal skins, but I’d made a few exceptions with Seth. It was impossible for me to see him in those pants and not think about some of our past experiments that dealt in leather. I’d bet he wore them to remind me.
Seth’s hair was slicked back in Elvis-like fashion, and he was clean-shaven with a new tattoo across his left pectoral. I couldn’t make it out from where I stood. It kind of bothered me that he’d gotten a tattoo without telling me, but maybe he just wanted to show me in person.
Mitchell wore an old Pantera T-shirt and black jeans. Dean wore something similar. Sabrina had a black studded tank top with a choker and black lipstick. Goth Sabrina. I could dig it. Her arms looked amazing, as always. But none of them held my attention the way that Seth did.
Petty Crime started off the show with one of their old songs—a hard, fast one—but it didn’t take off quite like I remembered. It took me listening to the first song and half of the second to realize Seth was off his game. From my vantage point on the balcony, I had a good view of him and the rest of the band. Seth was white-knuckling the microphone, his voice lacked the power and confidence I’d taken for granted as part of his performance art, and he was barely moving on stage.
He was nervous. The pressure of being in this make-it-break-it situation was messing with his head.
Seth missed a lyric. The crowd couldn’t tell, but I saw the look Sabrina shot him over her drum kit after covering for him. Mitchell glanced across the stage at Dean. Subtle looks and gestures no one else would pick up on. Seth’s eyes roved somewhat frantically over the crowd. I could see him spiraling. I lifted my beer in the air to catch his attention. His eyes slowly came to rest on mine. I nodded, telling him to focus on me and forget about the crowd. He smiled a little, looking relieved, eyes centering on me like a missile, locked and loaded. He sang to me and only me. I fell under his spell along with everyone else in the arena. Seth had that power. I had no doubt he could have almost any hetero woman, gay-leaning man, and some straight ones as well by the end of the night.
But who or what Seth slept with wasn’t my business anymore. I was there to support the band.
I sipped at my beer and let myself be ensnared in Seth’s web. With his voice, he spun the strands of silk, coiling tighter and tighter until there was nowhere left for me to go. Trapped but in the best possible way. They played for an hour, but it felt like only ten minutes. At the conclusion of their show, after the band had taken their final bows and the applause had mostly died down, Seth grabbed the microphone once more. He looked across the arena, pointed at me, and said, “You stay right there, Hiroku Hayashi.”
I’d always had difficulty disobeying a direct order from him.
It took a while for him to reach me. Everyone wanted a piece of Seth Barrett. Someone placed a shot in his hand, which he downed almost instantly. For all he knew, it could be laced with drugs. Women let their fingers trail across his shoulders, down his back, which was now clothed with only a black tank top separating his skin from their greedy, grasping hands. The jacket had been abandoned somewhere on stage after the first couple of songs. His bandmates were packing up their equipment. I hoped Seth was pulling his weight in that department.
“You came,” Seth said when he reached me, positively glowing with a smile that was the culmination of all the adrenaline pumping through his veins. And the applause. Nothing got Seth off like performing for a crowd.
“Happy birthday,” I told him, resisting the urge to lay a hand on him. “Nice pants,” I said appreciatively, wondering if even saying that was too much of a risk.
“You’d look better in them,” Seth said. He scrutinized me then, eye fucked me from head to toe and back again, pausing to linger on my crotch in a not-so-subtle way.
“You’re taller,” he said, bewildered by it, perhaps forgetting I was only fifteen when we met almost a year ago.
“Growth spurt,” I said. His eyes drifted down to my crotch again, and I assumed he was wondering if I was now bigger than him in that department as well. I had no idea. I wasn’t into comparing like he was.
He stumbled then, mentally. He looked confused, like he didn’t recognize me. Like I was a different person. I’d grown up that summer, and my indifference to him was apparent. Maybe my neediness and vulnerability were what he was after to begin with, and he didn’t find this newer version of me attractive anymore. That would solve both of our problems.
“Are you going to the after party?” he asked. I sensed that wasn’t originally what he’d come here to tell me.
I nodded. I’d already told Sabrina I’d meet her there.
“Good.” He patted my shoulder somewhat awkwardly then looked at me again. We now stood at eye level with each other. Without his combat boots, I’d probably be taller than him, which gave me some sense of satisfaction. “We’ll catch up then.”
He retreated into the mouth of the crowd and wove his way through the throngs of people without looking back. I didn’t know what was going through his head, but I knew that I’d spooked him.
For once it felt like I had the upper hand.
The after party was at an apartment complex in Red River, where it seemed everyone in the residence had an understanding that partying was the order of business for the weekend. There were several kegs surrounding the courtyard pool where most of the twenty- and thirtysomethings had gathered. Sabrina and I were probably the youngest people there, but I’d gotten used to it after all of that time hanging out with Seth and his friends. I’d grown up fast, and as a result, found I had little in common with kids my own age.
Sabrina was royalty to both the men and women alike. Her skill commanded respect, and her ballsy attitude made her more like one of the guys, so she always had a contingent of burly, smart-mouthed metal heads surrounding her like ladies-in-waiting. Men with big, unkempt beards and stalwart arguments on everything from music to movies to immigration and guns.Don’t tread on me.Their arguments usually boiled down to more guns and fewer immigrants. I fit in with that crowd about as well as one could imagine.
So, I sipped at my beer and caught up with Mitchell and Jeannie. They were still very much together, but I caught Jeannie sneaking glances across the pool at Sabrina from time to time. I smelled a future disaster lurking there for Petty Crime but resolved that it was none of my business. Sasha had transferred to UT Austin, and she and Caleb had broken up. Caleb was going to trade school to become an electrician and couldn’t party as much anymore, which was a bummer for Mitchell and Seth. That sounded good to me, like he was getting his shit together.
