chapter 6

"Where's Via?"

Kyle looked up and saw Ed, holding another half-empty beer bottle in his left hand while the other held a lit cigarette. He then recognized a ruffled up white jacket draped over his old friend's shoulder. "Headed back to the lodge two hours ago; cold meds made her dozy. Where's that blonde dude you been chatting up since eight?"

"In the backseat. Why? Jealous?"

Kyle chuckled and put his beer bottle on the old coffee table beside the staircase. The table was still crammed with booze and snacks. The party started at seven. The place had been pretty packed since he'd told Jay and the guys that he didn't want them to rent a big place.

"So..." Ed looked around. "Where's that smokin' raven-haired chick you been feelin' up the past half-hour?"

He snickered. "Ladies' room, I think. You're leaving?"

"Got more important friends to hang out with." Just before knocking back what remained of his drink, Ed gave him another crooked grin.

"I bet."

"Tell your boss she left this hideous coat in the car. She's not pickin' up." Referring to Via, Ed hung the jacket on the bottommost part of the railing, then waved to everyone else in the room. "Tequila King heading out!"

"Don't fucking drive," their pretty smashed manager hollered back.

"Happy birthday, papi." Ed jokingly kissed him on the cheek before heading to the small and cramped U-shaped kitchen to snatch another beer bottle. Then he made his way out to the parking lot.

Kyle ran his eyes over the venue another time. The sliding glass front door was still wide open. About twenty people were still busy buzzing around like bees, and the stereo system had been playing more synth-pop tunes for the last two hours.

Some of their studio workmates loitered in the kitchen, confabbing about the label's new and upcoming projects this summer and cleaning up at the same time. He could still hear Dan and Jake (an old college buddy of his) laughing somewhere, most likely crocked enough for election jokes.

The black-haired pretty face he'd been hanging out with the past hour or so was already pacing across the narrow hallway to reclaim her post, the tight spot in between the ashen wall and the small space where he sat casually.

It was clear that Shannyn—the 22-year-old aspiring singer-songwriter who'd approached him once he was alone with his third beer bottle—planned on dallying the night away with him.

"Spic cubicles. Small, but..." Shannyn gave him a grin. With a scrunched cigarette oddly tucked in the waistband of her leather pants, she sat next to him again.

"You smoke?" he asked, still a bit confused whether she was telling the truth about wanting to be a big pop-rock singer someday.

"Socially. How's the touring so far?"

Getting woozier by the second, Kyle tipped his head to the side, trying not to drop his gaze on her impressive cleavage. He took another gulp of his beer. "Did a few shows weeks ago. The heavy touring will start next year, by the time we get the recording done. Tried auditioning for some bands?" he asked out of being clueless as to what else to talk about, and mainly out of tedium.

If only the woman wasn't as hot and interesting as he'd thought, and if only Via hadn't sacked out early, he wouldn't be here right now spending the rest of his night chin-wagging with Jake's lovely cousin, while drinking himself to inebriety. He'd also been ringing Veronica's phone since ten, but his calls couldn't get through.

"Yeah. Just once, though. Almost all-girl band from Pittsburgh.  They needed a guitarist, so I called them up, asked if I could try out.  We jammed in this small garage at the drummer's place—he was the only guy—then played a couple punk rock songs. I think I did good. But after three songs, the lead and the bassist said I wasn't too comfortable with the guitar during the riffs."

"You wanted the job?"

"Yeah. But then the lead seemed like a complete bitch... I was already getting pretty irked just after the second song, so I scat out of that pot-stenched garage after the third." She snickered when he did.

"Good thing they didn't like you, I guess," he retorted after taking another sip of his favorite night cooler.

"Yeah." Shannyn gave him another one of those subtly flirty glances she'd been throwing at him all night. Although he appreciated that she found him that much interesting to talk to — they'd been at it for more than an hour already — he didn't favor the notion that she might already be thinking he'd like to have a nightcap with her afterwards. "Single? No ring and no girlfriend in sight."

"Not really," he answered in haste, trying not to sound slightly leery of her question.

"In a relationship? If you don't mind my asking..." She grinned again, and he'd bet on his life she had the whitest set of teeth he'd seen. Or maybe he was just that hammered already. The way she styled her hair suited her small angular face. Her black blazer was nowhere to be found. Her creamy complexion and the stairwell light were making it a wee bit difficult for him to focus on her eyes as they talked.

"Yeah," was all he said.

"But you're constantly touring every year, right? Where's she from?"

"Baltimore."

"Really? Oh, that's sweet. So, seven years now? You said you started the band in '05."

Keeping a grin on, Kyle gave a faint nod and ignored the impulse to excuse himself and scram through the backdoor. Via's phone was still turned off. He'd sent her three text messages already, and he still hadn't gotten any reply. He hoped she'd gone to bed straight off. Supposing she was resting well now, he almost grimaced when he realized her cold and sore throat had gotten worse since yesterday. Earlier, she couldn't even finish the birthday song.

"Must be really supportive," his chatty new friend muttered later on.

"Yeah," he said, mumbling as well.

"Wow...seven years." Her dark red lips pouting a little, Shannyn now stared absently at the striped flooring.

"We're sort of on and off."

"No marriage plans yet? She about your age?"

"Yeah. Um...we've talked about it...but we're still pretty hectic at the moment." He shrugged to try to dramatize his lameass lie. "She's still putting up with it, so." He smirked.

"She sounds great." Shannyn flicked him another one of those glances and even wished him and his imaginary girlfriend luck with their imaginary relationship's progression. He and Harriet hadn't really been in constant communication following the breakup.

He said his dry but passably genuine-sounding 'Thanks'. Then he felt the need to ask if she was with the tall and tipsy tattooed guy he'd seen talking to her a while ago. It wouldn't hurt to know early if a migraine-inducing hangover wasn't the only thing he should expect in the morning. So he asked, "In a relationship?"

Not much to his surprise, she said no. She even looked a little displeased at the thought. "Too confused and offbeat at this time to find someone worth dating, while trying to get a music career started."

"No boyfriend? Or...girlfriend?"

Aside from another long and engaging stare, Shannyn also gave him a sly smile before leaning in closer. "Really wanna know?"

"It's that bad?" he countered with a mischievous grin, feeling truly slopped and engaged in the conversation. He was now actually curious enough to decide to keep on schmoozing.

Shannyn giggled, glanced down at her waist, and pulled the cig out. She lit the cigarette stick with his tiny black lighter, looking comfortable beside him while they sat in the narrow stairway. She took a drag, then whiffed out a stream of white smoke away from his face. "Guess."

Kyle sat still to compose an answer, pretending to think hard and recall the stuff she'd mentioned to him about herself. Judging by the way she'd been gazing at him since nine, he then mentally affirmed that she was more likely straight. "Not a good guesser in this state to begin with," he drawled, lifting his beer bottle. He also raised three of his fingers to remind her how much he'd already sopped in.

Wearing another cunning smile, Shannyn stood up and walked down the steps. She put out her cigarette in the ash tray on the coffee table. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh." He stood up and grinned smugly, assuming he'd gotten it right. He tromped down the steps as well to put his empty bottle on the table. Now only inches apart, they went on exchanging flirty gazes as they stood by the staircase.

"'Cause I like girls more."

•••

A sigh was Veronica's initial reaction when she heard the personalized ringtone for Théo's number. Blaming herself for not having turned off her phone, she pinked her fingers on the metal desk. Once more, she ran her eyes over the lines of scribbles on her steno pad.

The verse of the new song she'd been burning her midnight oil for was already a few lines short from being finished. And if there was one thing she disliked more than an awful date, it would be her train of thought currently at work getting disarrayed by gratuitous distractions. In this case: one caused by someone else's whims.

She stood up from the desk, anyway, decided she could use ten minutes to exercise her stiffened leg muscles. Upon glancing at the oval wall clock, she figured she'd been sitting for at least three hours on the task chair.

The shrill ringing went on, prompting her to find her bag. Veronica scooped her phone out of her satchel, then wasted some seconds staring at the photo of her ex flaunting the guy's enviable physical attributes (in simpler words: his entire face). She took the picture two years ago on that sunny, breezy afternoon of their spontaneous hiking trip. It was their second date. His big grin reminded her of how much fun they had that day. Maybe it was just his genial and always genuine smile; because just like in any of his pictures, he looked pretty much perfect.

"Hi," she greeted once she received the call.

"Thanks."

"For?" A smile had already begun to form on her lips, making her realize she missed hearing his accent. Or maybe she just missed hearing his voice. It had been weeks ago since they'd last talked on the phone, and, needless to say, she missed him.

"Answering. I know you're busy," Théo muttered, his deep voice sounding pinched.

"Juste un petit peu."

"Errm...  So, what you doin'?"

"Writing a verse, composing some tunes." She simpered and tried not to react when she heard him stutter. He was probably still drawing up words to say to make his middle-of-the-night interruption worth her while.

"Oh. Real busy, then."

"Non, ça va." Veronica loafed on the bed and stretched her back muscles. "Quoi de neuf?"

"Pas grand chose... Je me sens malade. Quel temps fait-il?"

"Il pleut. Fièvre?"

"It's nothing," Théo said shortly. "Don't work too much, angelface."

Her grin grew wider. Since their second official date, his pet name for her had been "angelface" or "angel". Too bad she couldn't live up to the term.

She sighed to herself. Veronica shook off the depressing thought. She needed to chirk up her voice; some part of her didn't want to give away the fact that she was worried sick about him. "Let me guess, you did ten shows this week."

"No, only seven," he admitted. Then he let out his cute chuckle that always seemed to soothe her often pensive mood.

"Get some rest; you're not superman. Like I've told you again and again, try to keep it down the half-a-box-a-day level at least. Would you please?" She pleaded; his frequent smoking had already caused some damage to his skin. His voice even sounded a little hoarse now.

"I'm trying," Théo drawled, undoubtedly with a smile on his face — she could tell.

"Are you really?" she retorted, unconvinced that he was trying hard enough.

"I miss talking to you."

Another smile spread across her face. She couldn't remember him saying anything that sounded less than sincere. But then, maybe the small voice inside her head was right all along: maybe it was just that very endearing quality of his voice. "I saw you just two weeks ago."

"Feels longer than that," he mumbled on the other end.

Her phone getting warmer on her ear, Veronica splayed her fingers in front of her when they both fell silent. Seconds passed before she heard something on the other line that sounded like a door being slammed. A while later, she heard him cough. "Seriously, you don't sound well."

"J'ai le cafard...je veux être avec toi."

Wham! Straight to the core.

Something ached within her. His forthright words just cut through. "Babe...not tonight," was all she could say. She let out another sigh. Just what would be his reaction if she'd finally have it in her to press him to date someone new? She couldn't stop imagining.

"Sorry." Théo grunted somewhat. "I'm trying, y'know?"

"What?" She held her breath.

"We don't talk anymore, and...now I feel like I'm just bothering you every time I call." Théo sighed. "I'm trying real hard. Doing my best to keep it together. But sometimes it's just..." Awkward pause. "I'm getting more jobs, too. I even started seeing this girl." He forced a chuckle. "You probably couldn't care less. But don't shut me out. Okay?"

Oh crap. Not again. Not tonight. Veronica felt her throat hurt. Her screaming conscience and aching heart weren't looking forward to this tell-all.

But of course her ex went on. "I know. Yeah, it's only been a months. I know you're still so busy, with the recording and all. I'm tied up with work, too. But if I hear he's treating you wrong, I might rush over there just to beat the crap out of him."

"Théo..." Veronica drew in a quick, mind-freshening breath. Hot tears were beginning to burn her eyes. "Can we stay friends? Be straight with me." Her heartbeat quickened as she waited for his reply.

It took him a moment to give her one. "As you command, Your Majesty."

She combed her bangs away from her face. A less strained smile lingered on her lips when she failed at her attempt to not mind his pretty abject tone. "Thank you, T."

"Still miss you, angel."

Damn. Here they go again. A throb in her right temple along with his sweet and resolve-melting cajolery, made her shut her eyes. "Please...can we stay good friends?"

"What? Why're you— You think I don't want to?" he said louder.

She straightened herself on her hotel bed and prayed in her head for some seconds, quite desponded by the fact that it would take her an awful lot of time and tears to forget about him and what happened. Then she tried to quit chewing over things between the two of them getting constrained in some way. "Matters a lot to me," she replied.

"Avec plaisir. Ça n'est pas grave."

"I'm serious."

"You think I don't wanna stay friends?" Théo paused. "Cut me up, babe. By all means."

There was this mite of derision in his tone. Veronica kept a smile on. Despite the letdown in his answer, she decided it was enough (for her, at least). The thought somehow eased her worry of having any more awkwardness between them. "Thank you."

"No sweat." Théo sighed again.

She massaged her temple with the base of her palm. She wanted to tell him she missed him, too. But an afterthought made her decide not to, granted he still wasn't over the fact that she had no intention of giving their relationship another shot. "Get better, okay? I don't wanna hear from Vincent or any of the guys that you passed out backstage again. Promise you'll quit smoking now?"

Théo snickered and murmured something in French she didn't quite catch. "Yes. Promise."

"I'm worried; Jamie said you lost a lot of weight."

A sigh came before his response. "Just stressed."

"Take a break after the shows. Please."

"Copy that."

"G'night."

"Night, angelface."

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