When I said Sweet, I meant Dirty
It's sad how quickly tedium can replace fascination. It begins almost always after you realize that all he can talk about is prostitutes, alcohol, or Post Modern Russia. This tedium creeps up silently, until your vacant nodding turns into hurried head thrusts to try to get him to shut up. And that, dear reader, is how I found myself leaving Paige, who I thought I adored, and cruising random bars along the less savory parts of town. What had Paige's obsession been? The Nightmare before Christmas. He watched it every week at least once and played the soundtrack in his car endlessly. His conversations were peppered with references to Jack Skellington and the rest. Even recording with the others didn't shut him up.It's no wonder Bobby left.
The vodka sat in front of me, untouched. A few empty glasses foreshadowed this one's fate, but there was something standing in between me and oblivion. I'd left Paige a few weeks ago. I don't think he even noticed, so wrapped up in his perpetual Halloween world he was. I was lonely, so I took a look at the people sitting at the bar. Nobody extremely noteworthy, a few B-listers (I wondered idly if, after this last album, I had joined their ranks) a few local drunks, and Eminem. I turned back to my drink and then realized what I had just seen. Flicking over his back and profile I took it all in. Bleached blonde hair, clothes that were meant to look grungy but still looked too nice for any boy from the 'hood. And, of course, the face, that unmistakable glower that vanished as soon as he began to put on his little act in front of the camera, replete with monkeyish faces and jumping around. Now he was just nursing a beer, or something stronger.He looked up briefly when I slid into the vacant seat next to him. Maybe he recognized me, but I didn't expect it. I'd given up some of the makeup, not really wanting to spend all day fixing it. Lipgloss sufficed, though I still had to draw in my eyebrows until they grew back in.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snapped, flicking a quick glance over my body.
"Drinking. Like you are."
"This place is a little low class for you, isn't it?"
I laughed, "Same could be said of you."
"Yeah, but my face isn't all fucked up with makeup, is it? You gay?" He didn't say it with any particular malice, though I'm sure he could have been crueler about it.
"Are you?"
He didn't answer. I finished my drink and motioned for another. I would have expected a kind of grade school level reply, but he scowled and nursed his drink.
"Anyway, I only wear makeup. I haven't done drag twice."
He turned bright red and slugged back his drink. "That was for a fucking video."
"I wouldn't have done it. One has to keep up the image and all that." This was fun, prodding him until he broke. "Sure looked like you enjoyed it. I'll bet you still have it."
"Shut the hell up!" he snarled, making a half-assed attempt at pushing me away.
We sat there in silence for a while, he continually gestured for refills and I tapped my finger in longing for a cigarette. Finally his head jerked up. "Why did you dress like that for your videos then? Those were some fucked up clothes."
"Those were my clothes. I actually kept on wearing them afterwards. I'm sure you kept on wearing your little costumes."
He snarled and looked like he was going to break his glass on the counter. His eyes closed and his breath slowed. When he finally looked at me again, he appeared calm. Perhaps he thought that counting to ten might make me die or something. No luck. I smiled.
"Why did you sit next to me? There's plenty of other people you could have bothered."
I tweaked his ear and stood. "But how many of them look so cute when they get mad?" At that, I went outside to have a cigarette.
The lighter made a small glow in the alley and then was snapped out as I lit my cigarette. The bar was one of those run-down affairs with a sign that had been painted over with each new owner. Apparently the electricity bill was too high to light the promotional neon lights stuck in the windows. I sucked in a long drag, tapping away the ash absent-mindedly.He came out the door, looking panicked, and then calmed down noticeably when he saw me. "What the fuck are you doing? Do you know what kind of neighborhood this is?"
"I think I can handle myself." He frowned. "Why, do you think if I turned up dead in a ditch they'd think you did it?"
He tried to play off his concern. "I just didn't want you to get hurt, 's'all."
"Are you my guardian angel now?" I smiled and moved closer to him. He looked away. I laid my head on his shoulder and snickered when he didn't move away. "I can make it worth your while." I whispered, blowing smoke into his face. I found myself against the wall, my arms pinned, and his growling face my entire world.
"I was just concerned." I laughed.
"Well, you didn't do that for anyone else who left."
"Yeah, well, maybe they didn't look like you."
"So you like how I look?"
"No! It's just...fuck man, this is the kind of place where people who look different get their heads kicked in."
"Why, because they'd think I'm gay?"
He let his grip loosen a little. "Yeah."
"Shouldn't you do the same to me? I mean, listening to your songs..."
"Like I've said, that's not what I think."
I pushed him off gently and resumed smoking. "Then why say it at all?"
He wouldn't answer.
"Of course, you could just be feeding into that rap persona. Being a homophobic asshole sells records I guess." I sighed and started to walk off to my car. "I'm going home, have fun drinking."