Apertures Chapter 9
"The band’s called ‘Black Blood Moon’ not ‘My Toxic Romance’.”
9.
The music broke off in a discordant blare. Nestor whipped his head around to glare at Glenn. “Hey, wake up, bro. You’re asleep at the wheel over there.”
Glenn blinked and shook his head to try and clear the clouds from his brain. “Sorry, dude. I just had a hard time sleeping, is all.” He found his fingering on the bass and said, “Let’s take it from the top.”
“We have today and maybe half of tomorrow to get this down before we open Friday night. You should be able to play this in your sleep,” Mark said. His own fretwork was flawless, as usual.
“I know. I usually can. I’m sorry,” Glenn said. They started up again, and this time his muscle memory took over while his mind wandered.
Glenn’s blowup with Jane had haunted him for the rest of the day before, regret stabbing him at random moments as he went through the motions. Ashley had tried to get into bed with him, but he rebuffed her, in no mood to fake his way through it. He almost regretted it later, after a restless night of horny dreams where Ashley morphed into Jane who morphed somehow into Aster. He woke up so frustrated that he didn’t know whether to jerk off or go down to the hotel gym to whale on the heavy bag. When he finally did go down for his workout, he had hardly any energy and felt more defeated than fired up.
The song ended. Nestor clapped Glenn on the shoulder and gave him one of his easy grins. “Much better! Put a little more passion into it and we’ll see those panties flyin’ in no time.”
“I’ll make sure to go to bed early tonight,” Glenn promised.
“Well whatever kept you up wasn’t Ashley; I spotted her leaving your room last night and she looked pretty glum.” Nestor’s grin had a sinister edge. “If you ever need an understudy to step in, I can make some space in my schedule.”
Irritation burned inside Glenn. “As if she’d look twice at you, tweaker," he spat. "How many lines did you snort to get to functional this morning?”
“At least I am functional,” Nestor muttered.
Glenn ignored him and picked up the set list to see what was next. His breath seized. “No way,” he said, tossing the paper down and stabbing his finger at it. “No fucking way, we are not playing that song.”
Xander eyed his own list. “Why the fuck not? It’s one of the singles.”
“We need a ballad man,” Nestor said. “You know how we do: start strong, slow it down on the second. I mean, sure, we can ditch it but it’s not like all our other slow ones aren’t about Jane too. It’s not my fault.”
Glenn’s voice was acid. “Well, you could write some but considering you’ve never had a girl for more than half an evening–”
“Well I’d better sharpen my pencils, ‘cause someone’s going to have to pick up your slack now that you’ve killed off your muse,” Nestor said, examining one of his arm tattoos.
Glenn winced. “Don’t say it like that.”
“I’m exaggerating, doy.”
“Or you could write about something else once in a while,” Xander muttered.
Nestor scoffed. “If we let you write the songs we’d end up being one of those novelty wizard and warrior bands singing about slaying dragons.”
“Well, why the fuck not?" Xander demanded. "At least those bands have fun. We used to sing songs about vampires and werewolves and demons and shit. We’re not a goddamn boy band. The band’s called ‘Black Blood Moon’ not ‘My Toxic Romance’.”
“And ‘Jane’s Addiction’ is already taken,” Nestor snarked.
“More like ‘Addicted to Jane’,” Xander said with a smirk at Glenn. “That can be your solo project.”
“With bandmates like you, maybe I would be better off,” Glenn retorted.
“Hey,” Mark cut in, holding his hands up. “Think we can settle down and focus? Put this shit aside for another hour, then you can duke it out in the parking lot if you need.”
“Yeah, brah, you wanna throw down?” Nestor challenged, putting his fists up and shuffling his feet in what he imagined was a pre-fight dance.
Glenn sneered at him. “You never did show up to my little fight club, Nestor, so you don’t know this, but I’m undefeated. Do you even know how to throw a punch?”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter, dude. Speaking of,” Nestor raised an eyebrow, “now that Jane’s back on the market, I can finally do a little taste-test. You don’t mind, right?”
Glenn grabbed his bass by the neck, the strings digging into his palm. He wanted to smash it across Nestor’s grinning face. “You keep your filthy hands off her,” Glenn snarled.
“Hey, why so possessive over a chick you cut loose? I was texting with Megan this morning; she and Jane might not even show up to the last show. You really rubbed her face in it, huh?”
“I had to get her off my nuts somehow,” Glenn said defensively. “You saw how she was moping at me the other night.”
“Gee, I wonder why, Malsem, you only kept macking on her while you were broken up and kept Ashley a secret from her,” Nestor needled him. “And you’re one to talk about shooting looks, brah. No wonder Ashley’s so touchy about her; you’re practically half-chubbed every time Jane walks in a room.”
“Says the walking, talking erection,” Glenn snapped back.
“Though I can’t blame you, really. She’s really polished up nice.” A lascivious grin crept across Nestor’s face. “Hey man, don’t worry. I’ll treat her right. Probably give her more Os than you ever did,” Nestor trailed off in a mutter.
Glenn roared and advanced. Mark thrust himself between the two of them. “ENOUGH!” Mark hollered. His expression was stormy. “Nestor, shut your mouth before he breaks your jaw. Glenn, take a walk.” The two glowered at each other past Mark’s shoulder. “NOW!” he bellowed. Nestor broke off with a grunt, Glenn whirled and slammed his way out the door.
“Make sure to come back; I don’t want to have to learn how to play bass!” Nestor called after him. His laughter chased Glenn out of the building.
The light was a spear stabbing through Jane’s head, setting off an explosion that strained the confines of her skull. She squeezed the pillow around her head and groaned. Her eyes burned in their sockets. She rolled off the futon, staggered her way to the bathroom – blessedly empty – and dry-heaved for a few minutes. She rinsed her mouth out at the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and dug into the medicine cabinet for some pain relievers, taking three ibuprofen with a palmful of tap water. Then she staggered into Megan’s cave-dark bedroom and collapsed on her borrowed sleeping bag.
The next time Jane awoke the headache had dulled to the level of the previous record-holder of her worst headache ever. Her stomach still felt tender; she was hungry but unsure of what she could stand to eat. Megan still slept, but Callie’s bed was empty.
The bathroom was still vacant, though one damp towel showed that someone had used the shower in the meantime. Jane dragged her bag in, shut the door, and enjoyed a brief shower as hot as she could stand it.
Callie was in the living room doing yoga in a pair of lounge pants and a tank top. The bucket from the previous night was nowhere to be seen; some kind soul must have cleaned it up for Jane. She burned with embarrassment over losing control last night.
“Feeling better?”
Leah was rolling a joint at the kitchen table. Jane glanced up at the smoke alarm and smirked when she saw the plastic bag tied over it. That brought back the memory of the time she forgot to put one on hers. “Kind of,” Jane answered Leah’s question with a shrug and sat down. “Thanks to you, I guess?”
“No sense lying there trying to sleep with shots rolling around in your belly making you sick,” Leah said. She licked the edge of the rolling paper and pressed it down. “Don’t sweat it. We’re pro-regurgitation in this house, at least in the case of mild poisoning.” Setting the joint between her lips, she flicked her lighter and held the flame to the end as she inhaled. A slightly skunky smell drifted Jane’s way.
“Breakfast?” Callie asked, approaching the kitchen.
“Well don’t you look a daisy,” Leah said, her voice strained as she was trying to hold her breath while speaking. She let the breath out in a haze of smoke. “Chakras all aligned?”
Callie stuck out her tongue.
Jane pressed her lips together, trying to hold the nausea in. “I dunno,” she mumbled.
“We should GrubGrab a big, greasy diner brunch for you guys,” Leah said.
Jane frowned. “That sounds terrible.”
“Best hangover cure.”
“Seriously?” Jane was thinking of Cream of Wheat or plain scrambled eggs and toast, the sort of things she used to eat at home when she was sick with a stomach bug.
Megan shambled down the hall toward them, yawning, her hair sticking up in the back. “Hey, give me a hit off that, willya?”
Leah held the joint out. Megan took a drag and offered it to Jane. Jane waved it off. “It’ll make your stomach feel better,” Megan said.
“It’s true,” Leah said. “Cancer patients use it to get past the chemo nausea. Saves lives, sometimes. Some people can’t keep anything down and they start to starve to death, but a few puffs and they get their appetite back.”
Jane took it warily. “Pretend you’re breathing through a straw,” Megan instructed.
It was harder than breathing through a straw. Straws weren’t packed with burning plant matter. It felt like her lungs were burning as the hot smoke filled them. Her chest seized and she started to hack and cough almost enough to gag her. Along with worrying about catching her breath, now she was afraid she’d start dry-heaving again. Leah plucked the joint from Jane’s shaking hand and Megan thumped her back. Finally the coughing subsided and Jane wheezed, her throat torn raw and eyes watering.
Callie handed her a glass of water and Jane gulped some down. “Fuck,” she gasped, and coughed weakly. “That was fucking harsh! How do you stand it?”
Leah grinned. “It’s worth it.”
“It gets better,” Megan said with a shrug. “All our first times were like that. Mine was, anyway.”
“Bongs are easier,” Callie said, handing out mugs of coffee. “The water cools the smoke.”
Leah squinted at the joint, her face pink from holding her breath. “Yeah, but it’s more complicated to set up and shit,” she said again in that weird inhale-speak. She blew out a cloud as she handed it over to Megan. “At least this is like smoking a cigarette, except you have to keep relighting it because it’s not full of all that flammable shit they put in cigarettes to keep them going.”
“I’ve never even tried a cigarette,” Jane admitted. Suddenly she wished she’d given in to the urge to steal a puff off Megan’s cigarettes.
Leah laughed. “Wow, Megan, you weren’t doing your job back in high school, girl. She’s such an innocent!” She slurped some coffee. “Guess I should’ve baked those oatmeal raisin cookies. You can barely taste it then.”
“Like you have the ambition to bake cookies,” Callie teased.
Jane glowered at her water glass. “Sorry my inexperience is ruining your good time,” she muttered.
Megan gave Leah the finger. “Don’t listen to her, Janie,” Megan said. “Here.” She held the joint out to her. “Practice makes perfect, c’mon.”
“Uh, no thanks,” Jane said. “If I cough like that again my lungs will detach and shoot out of my mouth.”
Leah erupted into giggles and Megan snorted. “It wasn’t that funny,” Jane said.
“I can just picture it, though,” Leah spat out between giggles. She made a noise with her mouth like a missile whistling through the air, thrusting her hand out from in front of her mouth, arcing to land on the table with a flop.
Megan thrust the joint at Jane. “Before it burns all the way down, quick!”
Jane sighed heavily and tried again. This time it was a little easier and she was able to hold the smoke in for a beat or two before the coughing started again. It didn’t hurt as much this time. Maybe it was like burning your tongue, she thought: burn it once and then anything after that you barely feel.
Leah applauded. “Much better!” she said, taking the joint as Jane handed it over.
After another round, Megan peered at Jane and asked, “So, how do you feel?”
Jane shrugged. She didn’t feel all that different, really. She blinked. Suddenly something felt off. It was a notion more than a sensation, that the world had shifted almost imperceptibly or that she had been transported to another dimension that was almost exactly the same as this one, but not quite. “It feels like I have deja-vu,” she said.
Megan and Leah looked at each other.
Then something welled up, a relaxing warmth like that of the alcohol last night but with it a euphoria. The pain of her headache dimmed and her nausea disappeared. Her heart felt like it was going to fly out of her throat. She had to laugh or she would choke on it. It was like every time she heard her favorite song, every day that went perfectly, every time Glenn had grinned and run to catch her up in his arms… she pushed that last one away. She’d wasted enough thought and emotion on him.
“Oh wow,” Jane said, leaning back against her chair. Her limbs were getting heavy but it didn’t matter. It reminded her of when she was falling asleep, feeling her body begin to sink and knowing that she would soon be blissfully unconscious. She didn’t feel the need to move; she was perfectly content where she was, right here.
She looked at Megan, her best friend ever, who took such good care of her when she’d been nothing but a needy mess. Jane’s heart overflowed with fondness for her.
“Feeling good now?” Megan asked with a smile. Jane nodded and Megan giggled.
“I’m fucking starving,” Leah said. “We should order breakfast. I’d kill for some home fries and ketchup.”
“Oh my god, that sounds fantastic,” Jane groaned.
“Let’s just order one of everything,” Leah said, poking at her phone.
“No way we can afford that, much less eat it,” Callie cut in. “Give here.” She held out her hand for the phone and took care of the ordering while the girls chimed in with demands and suggestions.
Even with Callie’s intervention, the spread was still overwhelming. The stuffed French toast, filled with strawberries and sweet mascarpone, was the best thing Jane had ever eaten. “Oh my god, I forgot how much I missed real maple syrup!” Jane gushed as Leah plunked a quart jug down on the table amidst the plunder. “It is like gold out west. Most people don’t even like it! I got my roommate a little thing of it as a gift when school started and she thought it was too sweet and tasted funny. She uses that Mrs. Butterworth crap.”
“Blasphemer,” Megan said, her mouth full.
Eventually they ran out of steam and sat back in their chairs, holding their bellies. “They say hunger is the best spice, but I think weed’s got it beat,” Callie said as she started cleaning up. Leah rolled another joint as soon as she had the space on the table, her head down in supreme concentration.
“I’m taking a shower,” Megan announced.
Leah rolled her eyes as she watched Megan walk down the hall. “Good thing we’re all clean already. She’ll be in there using up the hot water and touching herself.” Megan flipped her off over her shoulder. Jane laughed.
Leah passed the joint to Callie, who picked a lighter up from the table and lit it. After a puff, she passed it to Jane.
“C’mon, Janie,” Leah said, “Let’s go watch funny shit on YouTube.”
The rest of the day passed strangely. Sometimes Jane looked at the clock, feeling as though hours had passed when it was only minutes. Eventually Megan got out of the shower and joined them on the futon watching videos on her laptop. Sometime after they found the videos on historical food dishes, they got hungry and someone ordered pizza. As they devoured it, Megan’s phone went off.
Megan picked it up. “Text from Elzbetha,” she told Jane. “She wants to know if we’re going to the party and show on Friday.”
“You lucky bitches, hanging out with the VIPs,” Leah said, reaching to nab another slice of pizza from the coffee table.
“Yeah, no thanks,” Jane said. She felt like she was coming down from her high. “I’m done with that drama. I’m gonna enjoy the rest of vacation, go back to San Fran, move on with my life.”
Callie high-fived her. “Right on, Jane. Reject negativity. Let karma do its work and move forward.”
“No, Janie, we have to go,” Megan said. “We’d never get into a party like this if we weren’t friends with a band. It’s all record execs and rich people and shit. Maybe you can find a sugar daddy, eh?” Megan smiled and elbowed her. “Besides, we should see them off before they leave town. Even if Glenn’s a miserable asshole, the rest are our friends.”
“Why? So Ashley can be all smug in my face? So I can watch her and Glenn dry-hump?” Jane gave Megan a stricken look. “I can’t face him, Megan. Not now, not after what was said–”
“Especially now,” Megan insisted. “To throw it in his face that you don’t need him. How you don’t even want him anymore. Hell, find some hot guy to make out with. He threw Ashley in your face.”
“She’s right,” Leah said. “If you stay home, he’ll have won.”
“Pettiness is a hollow victory,” Callie admonished. “You should be the bigger person.”
“Shut it, Confucius,” Leah snapped.
“She can be the bigger person. You don’t have to rub it in, then, just go and have a fun time. If you really want to be a big person,” Megan cut her eyes at Callie,” congratulate them, wish them well, and walk away knowing she’ll probably dump his ass the instant the tour is over. Then when he comes running back to you, you get to tell him to fuck off.” She put an arm around Jane. “We’re going to go, we’re going to look fabulous, and we’re going to have a great time milking our friends’ fame for all it’s worth.” Jane gave her a doubtful look. “Just sleep on it, okay?”
Jane sighed. “All right, I’ll consider it.”
Leah handed Jane the joint. “I think you need another hit.” Jane took it, looking at it miserably before putting it to her lips and letting euphoria fill her lungs.