Sound Bites: A Rock & Roll Love Story (20 page)

“I’m not defending her at all. I’m just saying that sometimes people do stupid things, like…”

“Like
sleeping with
their best friend’s boyfriends.”

She sighed. “Yes. And I don’t condone what she did, but I don’t think it means that she doesn’t care about you. I just think she made a bad decision. Maybe she was really in love with him. I don’t know. But whatever the reason, I’m sure she’s kicking herself for it now.”

“Well she should be,” I said. “I don’t care if she was in love with him. She should have told me how she felt instead of
sleeping with
him behind my back and lying to me.”

“I agree. All I’m saying is that you can’t avoid her forever. Now that David is out of the picture, she could very well end up moving back here someday.”

Ouch. I hadn’t thought of that. I really didn’t know how I’d react if we ever came face to face, but it wasn’t something that I’d imagine would go over well.

I looked up just in time to see Dylan saunter into the bar lugging his guitar case. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and the same black t-shirt that he'd worn to the show in New York, along with a black leather jacket. His dark hair was a disheveled mess as usual.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted, taking a seat next to me. He looked up at Beth and smirked. “Hey, Beth. I heard you and Eddie rekindled your old flame, eh?”

I smacked him on the arm. “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, relax. I just found out earlier today. Justin told me.” He nodded his head toward the bottle. “What’s with the champagne?”

“
We’re
doing a little celebrating.”

He scrunched up his nose the same way he always did when he was around champagne. He thought it tasted like “skunked orange juice.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Justine got dumped,” I replied.

My response was apparently deemed unfavorable, as Dylan rolled his eyes and mumbled, “That’s mature.”

So I wanted to bask in a little vengeance, is that so wrong?

“So, I heard you guys are moving in together,” Beth piped up, quickly changing the subject.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dylan answered, sliding his arm around me. “As long as Renee doesn’t get back together with her ex now that he’s single.”

“Oh please,” I scoffed. “That’s not even funny.”

I knew he was joking, but his words couldn’t be further from the truth. Dylan was everything I had ever wanted. Going from someone like Dylan to someone like David would be like taking a bite of filet mignon and washing it down with a glass of pickle juice. 

Dylan left the table once the rest of the boys arrived to help them set up the equipment. They began their set about twenty minutes later, opening with a new song that I’d never heard before. Dylan announced its name to the audience as “Three Steps Ahead.”

After the first song ended, Beth and I finished the bottle of champagne then moved on to martinis, despite my hesitation. Vodka and I were not friends, namely because it graced me with the same regurgitative gift every time we reunited. Occasionally, I enjoyed a mixed
drink
or two, but consuming hard booze after you’d already polished off a bottle of wine was a disaster in itself.

By the time the show started to wind down, the room had slowly started to spin and my high-pitched slur had gone into full effect.

Now, hard booze doesn’t exactly bring out my best qualities as it is, but when my boyfriend’s ex happens to show up at the same bar after I’ve downed excessive amounts of it, all hell is bound to break loose.

I spotted her towards the back of the bar – platinum bottle-blonde hair, giant breasts tucked into a very scary tube top and orange makeup galore. She walked in with her crew of concubines, eagerly poking her head around to catch a glimpse of the stage.

Christina.

I actually thought I might’ve been drunkenly hallucinating until I heard her let out a shrill, wailing cackle, and I recognized the whiny tone immediately. Her friends all looked like cheap knock-off versions of her, a disastrous blondetourage that instantly turned the once-fun bar into a safe haven for STD’s. I wanted to hose them down with a gallon of Lysol.

This was not going to go over well.

“Beth,” I yelled, grabbing her arm. “That’s Christina!”

Beth looked at me like I was insane. “Who the hell is Christina?”

I leaned in towards her so that no one could hear me, even though I was clearly speaking a few hundred decibels above a whisper. “Dylan’s ex.”

“Oh boy. Which one?”

“The one with the sparkly belt buckle.”

“Oh God,” Beth said, twisting her face into a distorted expression. “It’s like attack of the whores. He seriously
dated
her?”

I nodded.

She shook her head. “Renee, I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he actually dated her or the fact that you’re actually threatened by her.”

I elbowed her in protest, a little too hard I realized when
her
drink went flying out of her hand and splattered all over the floor. We collapsed into a fit of laughter and casually walked away, hoping no one took notice of the spillage.

Beth and I staggered up to the bar, downed two Kamikaze shots, and then opted to switch to beer. Not that it mattered at that point.

The next ten minutes were spent ripping apart the laminating wardrobe that clung to the bodies of Christina and the concubines.

“Look at their whore-drobes!” said Beth.

“They’re whore-ible!” I said.

“Whore-ific!”

We had ourselves rolling with laughter until Christina suddenly noticed me and came barreling over at turbo-skank speed.

“Hey,” she squeaked. “Aren’t you
California
?”

Oh Lord. I had forgotten all about that nickname. It seemed like a lifetime ago when Dylan had last called me that.

“That would be me,” I said.

“
California
?” Beth gasped. “Oh, do tell.”

“Are you here with Dylan?” Christina asked.

“Yes,” I replied casually. “Dylan and I are
together now
.” I stressed my words as if I was speaking to a foreigner.

“Well I came here to see him tonight,” she declared, like I was supposed to be scared. Like the big bad Queen Whore was going to swoop down from Whoreville and steal my precious Dylan away.

“So, go see him.” I motioned to the stage, reminding myself that she wasn’t a threat and to remain calm, even if my blood alcohol level was slowly creeping into the triple digits.

As I watched her walk away, I realized the kamikaze shot had officially taken its full effect. I told Beth I needed to sit down so that I didn’t get sick, at which point she grabbed us both a glass of water and followed me to the table.

Once the show was over and the band was packing up their gear, I decided to stay put at the table and gauge Dylan’s reaction to Christina from afar. Like clockwork, she ran right over and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. I couldn’t help but notice her giant breasts suffocating his poor fragile chest, which made me feel more nauseous than I already did.

It was hard to eavesdrop on their conversation since they were a few feet away, but I managed to catch bits and pieces of redundant small talk that weren’t all that interesting. I was just about to get up to go to the bathroom when I heard it.

“I’m really glad you called me,” Christina said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier to see more of your show, but I was running late because I had to pick up Stacy.”

Beth and I both looked at each other at the same time. I knew she had heard it too.

“Did she just say what I think she said?” Beth asked.

I nodded, glaring at Dylan. I was furious. Here I was blaming his ex-girlfriend for showing up at his gig like some stalker, when meanwhile, he was the one who had invited her. I sat there for a minute and watched the two of them, debating on whether I should run over to Dylan and bitch slap him or run out the door. But after Christina put her hand on his shoulder and started chortling obnoxiously in his ear, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed over to him, trying to fight back the tears that were slowly forming in the corners of my eyes. Hard booze always sent my emotions out of whack.

“I’m going to head home,” I said to Dylan, completely ignoring Christina’s presence.

“Why don’t you just wait for me?” he asked, looking confused. I couldn’t believe he was acting like nothing was wrong. In my opinion, calling your ex and inviting her out, then ignoring your new girlfriend to socialize with her, is completely and utterly wrong. Not to mention rude.

I shook my head. “No, I’m going to head out. I’ll just sleep at my place tonight since you’ll probably be here a while. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I spun around and headed towards the door as fast as I could. I knew that Christina wouldn’t pick up on the fact that sleeping at my place was a huge indication that I was pissed, but Dylan would. I hadn’t slept at my apartment in months. It was actually pretty clever of me, especially in my vodka-infused state of mind, to come up with a subliminal message that only he could decipher.

Beth followed me out the door and stopped me as soon as we reached the sidewalk out front.

“Are you okay?” she asked, although it was painfully obvious that I was anything but.

“Beth, can you
believe
him?” I yelled, flailing my arms in the air. “He not only called her and invited her to the show, which he failed to mention to me, but then he had the nerve to sit there and ignore me while he talked to her. And the best part is that he asked me to wait for him. Why would I wait for him? So I can sit there wanting to poke my eyeballs out while she fawns all over him? No thanks.”

Beth winced. “I hate to ask this, but do you think he talks to her on a regular basis?”

That was the question I hated to ask myself, too, because the truth was, I had no idea. Hell, maybe he had called the other red-headed troll and invited her to the show, too.

“I don’t know,” I sighed.
A sinking feeling emerged in
my heart. Now I remembered why I had sworn off love in the first place. When it was good, there was nothing that could compare to it. But when it was bad, all you wanted was to find some way to make the pain go away.

The thing that bothered me the most was that Dylan didn’t follow me when I left, or even try to stop me from leaving. I wanted him to care. I needed him to care. And he didn’t fucking care.

“Do you want to grab a cab with me?” Beth asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “But let me do something first.”

I ran back over to the front door and peered inside. I had to have one last look before I went home. The two of them were in the same spot as before, leaning in towards each other, giggling like little kids at something that Justin said. Just as the tears in my eyes started to resurface, Dylan looked up and spotted me. Our eyes met, and I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

I grabbed Beth and pulled her further down the street, flagging over the first cab in sight. Just as I was about to hop in, I heard Dylan’s voice behind me.