Punk and Zen (17 page)

I placed a hand on a hip and waited for his answer
while Cap stared down into the passenger seat. No answer came.

“Exactly,” I muttered. I waved my hand in disgust at
the whole exchange, as if that could erase it. His comment and following
silence left me angry and gave me added motivation as I stalked off back toward
the apartment.

I heard the roar of the jeep as Cap started it up
again, and seconds later, Cap caught up with me.

“Nina,” he called, “come on. You have to trust
somebody, sometime. Please, just get in.”

I walked a few more steps and considered. Maybe he had
a point, maybe I had to change something. I already knew that I needed
something different; maybe this could be the start.

“Okay,” I said finally, and went back toward the jeep.
I put my hand on the latch. “But,” I cautioned, “I won’t discuss my sex life
with you. It’s nobody’s business except mine, and it wasn’t necessary for you
to say that, either.”

Cap listened, then nodded. “Fair enough. I should have
put that differently, and I won’t ask for details, except when I need some
pointers.”

I let go of the door and was about to step back, when
Cap threw a hand up. “I’m just joking, just joking. Come on, let’s go home.”

I finally opened the door and climbed in. Once I
settled in my seat and snapped on the seat belt, Cap pulled forward.

“Nina, I’m just trying to let you know that you’re not
the only one hurting. Trace hurts over it, too. I mean, ABC she kind of
put herself out there for you, and you turned her down. And it’s not like you
don’t want her or anything.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You know what,
Cap? She didn’t offer. She tried to—never mind, just fucking forget it.” I
sighed.

“Look,” I tried again as the scenery rolled by, “do
you really want to give your heart to someone who’s fucking everyone in sight?
Ever think for a second that’s what everyone else does? Fuck her, then forget
her?”

I paused, then continued. “Yeah, so she comes on to
all of them—and of course they respond. Who wouldn’t? I don’t want to be one of
those, I don’t want to hurt her, and,” I took a breath, “I’m not going to be
another fuckin’ notch for her, either.”

We rounded the corner of our block, and Cap pulled
into a space across the street. He unsnapped his safety belt and lit a new
cigarette. “Take one,” he offered.

“I’ve got, thanks.” I took one of my own out, but
didn’t light it. It was just something to hold on to for the moment. Cap smoked
quietly, and I sat there with him while we both considered what we’d been
talking about.

I cut through the silence. “Don’t you think if someone
was really into you they wouldn’t go after anyone else, especially in front of
you, want you to watch, wouldn’t play with you like that?”

“Nina, what about you? You did that girl. You didn’t
seem to have a problem with that. And if it’s just sex, then why don’t you just
go for it?” Cap look genuinely puzzled as he spoke. “Besides, what the hell is
it going to hurt? I mean, it’s not like you have to worry about getting
pregnant or anything.” He smirked the last part at me.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” I countered,
exasperated. “It’s not just about sex. Okay, yeah, with Candace at that time,
it was sex, but for chrissake, I was fucking drunk. Give me a break. And it was
honest, at least. I didn’t have to lie to her or pretend shit or try to, to
break her will or anything. Dammit, leave me alone already. If I pull out the
phone book, you guys have fucked half of it.”

I lit that cigarette and took a deep drag. “Just
because I don’t have to worry about getting fucking pregnant doesn’t mean there
aren’t any fucking rules,” I told him, “at least for me. Yeah, I fucked
Candace, okay? I fucked her because she was there, and she wanted me to, and
Trace dared me to, and you know what? I never do that, never just pick someone
up. I actually go out on dates first. So what, I enjoyed it, enjoyed her, so
sometimes if we get a chance we hang out and talk or something, because I like
her. She was totally up front, she hasn’t stopped being that way, and I
like
honesty. That’s the way to get me, okay?”

“Whoa, girl.” Cap held up his hands. “You’re preaching
to the choir about just enjoying it, and that’s what I’m saying. You should
just stop being so damned guarded all the time, let someone in, ya know?” He
paused and took a drag on his butt. “Once you and Trace…you know…” and he
exhaled, “things’ll probably calm right down.” His tone was reassuring, but ABC
his words proved he didn’t understand me at all. Maybe I wasn’t saying
it right. I thought I was.

I blew out a frustrated breath. “No,” I told him
flatly. “It’s never going to happen, don’t you get it? I want it for real. I
really, truly love, um, care about her, understand? As long as I’m not involved
with anyone, I’m a free agent, but believe me—and it has nothing to do with my
own past—if I had an honest-to-goodness real clue that she could even partially
be what I need, I wouldn’t ever, ever, fuck around, not with anyone.”

I took a drag on my butt and blew it out. “Candace
would never have happened,” I continued, “but I’m not gonna fucking waste my
time. Do you get me yet? Someone, someday, is going to be there for me, and I
wish, I would love it to be Trace, but if it’s not, well, why I should I
pretend? Why should I let her pretend to me? Oh, hell.” I threw my hands up in
confusion and frustration, then undid my seat belt. “Just forget it, man. I’m
going inside.”

I didn’t even know what I was trying to say anymore,
and I was tired of trying to understand myself. “I’ve got to practice, I’ve got
a rehearsal-audition today,” I told him as I opened the door and slid out of
the car.

Cap undid his belt and got out, double-checking to
make sure the alarm was set. “Hey, you’ve got your own room now, have fun.” He
smiled at me as he strode to the steps.

We climbed up together in silence, and I tried to
clear my mind. I really did have to get myself together. I was hooking up with
some people I’d met at the bar a couple of nights before: Stephie and Jeremy.
They liked my style, they liked the tunes I spun, and they liked me. We’d see
what would happen, if we clicked musically. There was no drummer yet, but we’d
work that out, if the first couple of rehearsals gelled in the way I thought
they would.

“Nina, you really are a virgin, aren’t you?” Cap broke
into my thoughts as we approached our door.

I rolled my eyes. “Can we just leave that alone?” I
asked, exasperated. I keyed the lock and let us both in, then went right to my
closet to get my guitar.

“Yup, thought so,” he said mostly to himself. “Not
that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added hastily. “Just that it sorta
makes sense of everything else.”

I faced him, hands on my hips. “You know, just because
I don’t let just anyone who wants to fuck actually
fuck
me doesn’t mean
I don’t know what sex is about or feels like,” I informed him. I’d had it with
this heavy conversation. It was time, more than time, to add a little levity
somewhere. “Besides,” I added with a grin, “have you ever had anyone do it
better than you do it yourself?”

Cap stared at me for a second, then started laughing.
“No, I’ve never experienced that.”

“Well, there you go, then,” I told him with a smile.
“Maybe you’re a virgin too.”

He guffawed. “That’d be the best line, Nina. I think
I’m gonna use it.” He laughed again. “That’s just too good.”

His mood was infectious, and it was such a relief to
not feel like I was on the defensive, I joined in.

“Feel free,” I offered, still grinning. “I figure I’ll
probably marry the person who can make it feel that good.” I clapped a friendly
hand on his shoulder, then went back to my guitar.

“Nina.” Cap’s tone was serious, so I faced him again.
Damn. I really needed to practice.

“I never thought of it like that before. You know, if
you can trust someone that much,” he said, obviously considering the thought,
“you should.”

I answered him with the seriousness he deserved. “I
already figured that. I’m shooting straight for the heart,” I told him somberly,
and with that, I went into my room to play guitar.

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

Colder

I have heard the story of the garden—

The serpent came and took it all away

I am always sorry in the morning

But right now? Let me slide in—let me stay

“I Fall”—Life
Underwater

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

The audition-rehearsal went well—better than expected,
in fact, because we’d left it with three brand-new songs and the beginnings of
two more.

I liked Stephie and Jeremy. Stephie, who was a little
taller than me and had this lovely angular look, was smart and tough and
carried a very artistic picture she’d taken of her boyfriend; she’d designed
his Mohawk, and she’d done a nice job. She’d done her own hair, too. It shaded
from blond at the top to red to black; it looked like a match tip, and the ends
curled under her ears.

Jeremy was the same height as Dee Dee and maybe a
little darker, but that’s where the similarities ended. He was shaped like a
large bear, albeit a large, bass-playing, monster rhythm bear, and he kept his
hair clipped as closely to the skin as possible and said he only took his army
flak jacket off to sleep—or when his mother wrestled it off him to wash
it—whatever came first.

Most importantly, though, we had ABC fun, we
had chemistry, and we knew we could make music. We planned to get together
again in another few days and start planning some schedules.

I pulled my guitar out of the case, played a few
licks, then put it back. I was restless and edgy. A lot had changed between the
day before and now. I moved a few things into my new space, tried my guitar out
in different areas.

I didn’t know what was worse, trying not to remember
Samantha at all, which was hard, because she’d given me my first few guitar
lessons back when I’d just started playing, and now, boy did I play the shit
out of it, or the image from the morning I couldn’t get out of my head. Trace
and Van. Did she like it? Did she really like him? Why him, if he was going to
be so smug about it? Did it matter? Did she care?

Maybe, just maybe, it was me. Maybe it all meant
nothing. Maybe I should just go ahead and do my own thing, before someone did
their own thing to me. I was so tired of being cute…

I called the club and got one of the owners on the
phone. “Hey, Mickey, it’s Nina. Who’s got the back room tonight?” Hell, if
someone else was DJing, I’d go in and back the bar. At least I’d make some
money, and in between I could check out the new disc spinner, dance, see if
they were any good.

“It’s Darrel, but I think he’s gonna blow it soon,”
Mickey told me. “He’s been doin’ whatever at the booth again.” Silence.

“You guys set up the rear lounge yet?” They’d recently
bought the adjacent building and were setting it up with both a booth and a
stage—capacity 500.

“We’re wired for sound, why?” Mickey asked me.

“Let me run a session in the back room?” I asked.
“Test the wiring, bin placements, all that sort of thing. That way you don’t
have to bring me in for a day session.”

I could hear the wheels in his head churn. If he let
me in tonight and it went badly, he’d gotten the room tested for free. If it
went well, more people could fit in the club. The bar staff might be a little
shorthanded, but there’d be more money all around—no one would complain too
terribly.

“If you get people, you can stay back there. If no one
walks in, just give me a rundown on any bugs you find—if any—and you wanna bar
back tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I hung up and got dressed fit to kill. I grabbed a
stack of my favorite tunes and quickly stopped by the bathroom—had to check my
hair.

Cap was right, I thought as I made sure everything was
how I wanted it ABC to be. I’d had no problem with Candace. Thinking of
her made me smile. She was sharp, sexy, direct. She knew what she wanted—and
wasn’t afraid of it. I could deal with that. Hell, I should probably learn from
that.

Everyone was doing whatever they wanted but me. I was
stupid enough to think that caring meant anything, when pretty obviously the
only thing that had any meaning was the fuck. No wonder everyone treated me
like such a baby—I
was
one.

Not tonight—not anymore.

My hair was perfect, and I looked pretty damn good, if
I did say so myself. Okay, I thought as I contemplated myself in the mirror. I
had a room to check, and if it was up to me—and it was—I was gonna have that
room full and rockin’ way before it was time to close. Fuck bar backing
tonight. And maybe, just maybe, if the music was good—and it would be—and the
mood was right—it definitely should be—I’d invite someone up to the booth to
party with me.

Fuck Trace, fuck Van, fuck Cap and Jackie. Fuck
everyone who kept treating me like I was some precocious little idiot. Fuck ’em
all.