Chapter 17 #2
“You don’t ever have to worry about how the whole meet-the-parents thing is gonna go either.
That’s so huge. Like, I don’t think I’ve met anyone’s parents since Tony introduced me to his dad, and we both know he was never a big fan of mine, since anytime Tony left with me, it was usually with his guitar in hand.
Pretty sure I was number one on the bad influence list with him.
What the hell are Pressley’s folks going to think when they meet me?
He’s kinda straight-laced, and I’m, well, a hell-of-a-lot of rock ‘n’ roll.
Even toning it down isn’t gonna erase the vibe.
And then there’s the obvious. I wonder what assumptions they’ll make.
Probably that I was a juvenile delinquent and got carved up in a gang fight or some shit along those lines. How often have we heard that one girl?”
A lot.
Too many.
I hated the speculation. It was always way wilder than the truth, and for some reason that had actually left a few people disappointed, go figure.
“I kind of feel like I have a doomsday clock over my head, Percilla. I mean, what if they decide they out and out hate me? I’m not good at conversations that don’t have anything to do with music.
I don’t keep up with the news, and television has never been a big deal to me.
Doubt they’d appreciate discussing how difficult it is to get past the boss battle with Pyramid Head in Silent Hill.
You know how much I hate facing that bastard.
Hell, you know more about me than Pressley does, and now we’re doing the meet-the-parents thing before we’re even finished working through the getting-to-know-you parts.
It’s why I was scared to say I love you.
Because what if he doesn’t love me when he finishes getting to know me?
What if the things he learns are a total turn-off?
He’ll totally regret taking me with him tonight, especially if they’re the kind of people that like to bring up people’s bad decisions years after they happen.
I’ll be a cautionary tale. Don’t date the talent.
If you’re even thinking about dating a complete mess of a human being, run. ”
Fuck.
This could be bad.
Like epic, next-level bad.
The kind of bad I used to jump on the back of my bike to avoid.
The fresh air, the wind in my hair, the way the world looked without a car body caging me in.
There were so many things I missed about it.
Like the way the lyrics just flowed in my head as the highway flew past. There were rest stops that seriously deserved dedications written to them for the ambiance and tranquility they provided while I scribbled down words.
As restless as I was tonight, I’d have gone out for a long ride, maybe even out to Mt.
Rainier, to sit in the shadow of the mountain, a reminder that I was just a small thing in a massive universe.
I wrote that on the whiteboard too. A small thing in a massive universe might be a fun line to play with, though I was certain Pressley was going to wonder what the hell was going on when he saw random lines from possible lyrics up there instead of creamer and bananas.
Which reminded me that we were low on both, and I was desperately craving fried banana on my pancakes.
Better add pancake mix too, the box was getting low.
Eggs, milk, butter, yes I was stalling and avoiding going back to bed.
That six hours of sleep I was supposed to get was going to become a bone of contention between me and Tony if he wandered out here to find me like this, so I hoped whatever text thread he had going kept him occupied for a while.
“This is kinda sad and pathetic, isn’t it, Percilla?
I mean, I’m about to meet his mom, and I haven’t even told him yet that I have nightmares.
Should have had him fuck me until there were no thoughts left in my head.
Wonder what he’d think if I told him I liked to be held down and positively loved having someone snarl filthy suggestions in my ear?
He hasn’t even seen my truly freaky side yet, and I kind of want him too, because I miss so much of my old self that it’s not even enough anymore to just get to play music; I really just want my life back.
Well, accept the parts of myself where I was an arrogant prick and a complete dick at times, not to mention competitive and self-serving.
I can do without those things. Just be glad you never met that guy, ‘cause I doubt he’d be out here talking to you in the middle of the night, and you probably wouldn’t be as big as you are, because he’d probably have accidentally killed you from sheer and utter neglect.
But I do miss his confidence, and some of the stage gear was pretty sick.
Fuckin’ miss wearing nothing but leather crisscrossing my body, but at least I still get to enjoy kilts.
Yeah, I’ll wear something under it. Don’t need to get hit with a public indecency charge.
I doubt Pressley would want to deal with the result of photographs and the internet, that would probably be a bit of a headache. ”
The white numbers on the stove clock read half past five, a bright, glaring reminder that the sun would be up soon and in less than twelve hours my whole relationship might be in tatters.
Yeah, there was probably not going to be much more in the way of sleep for me tonight, but if I stayed out here naked any longer, someone was going to wake up and ask what the hell was going on.
And that was a question I didn’t want to answer.