Chapter 7 #2
It was nice in a way. I didn’t know Bonham, but he was easy and comfortable. Simple. He almost reminded me of my boys, but then that would ruin the purpose of the evening.
The flask was empty.
I didn’t want to get too fucked up on alcohol. It was always best to be some type of coherent around strangers.
When I stood to my feet, I found gravity challenging.
“Whoa.” Sober I was not.
I meandered my way through the crowded space of bodies and managed to walk to the front counter.
The boy behind it had clearly lost a battle with puberty.
His pale face was red with acne, and his greasy hair did nothing to improve his tragic appearance.
I reached down and removed my shoes. “I’m out.”
His nametag read Bryce. “Do you need one of our designated drivers?”
I wasn’t yet ready to go home, where the only person who ever knew I existed was Scott.
Fuck Scott.
I accepted my shoes as I declined his offer. “No thanks. I’ll walk around and explore.”
Bryce appeared skeptical, but then he just gave up.
Truthfully, I was so used to people giving up on me I wasn’t sure what I’d do when someone tried to stay and fight.
Outside the air was warm and inviting against the bowling alley’s blast of AC.
I wasn’t the most steady on my feet, but I just started walking anyway. My destination was uncertain, but I was ready for the next location.
“Whoa, whoa, easy there.” Bonham’s arms circled my middle as he came up behind me with Bug following in tow. “Where ya going?”
“Somewhere new.” I pushed against him and backed up a little, stumbling along the way.
Bonham eyed me. “Then tell me that. Communication is typically how relationships of any sort work.” He looked around. “Besides, I don’t trust these guys with a pretty girl like you wandering out here all lost and wasted.”
“I’m not wasted,” I insisted. “Just a little light on my feet.”
His response was a smirk. “You ready for a bar or two?”
This got a smile out of me. “Lead the way, captain!”
With his arm around my shoulder and Bug in the back, we walked the sidewalks to the strip of businesses that offered a variety of nightlife options.
The first bar was dead inside, leaving us to abandon it quickly.
The next bar we tried we couldn’t even get past the bouncer. He took one look at us, rolled his eyes, and told us to get lost before he called the cops.
“Not tonight, Bonham, we don’t want no trouble.” The security guard even knew him by name.
Bonham flashed those pearly whites of his. “Come on, Mick. Just let us hang for an hour, and then we’ll go.”
Mick wasn’t having it. “I could lose my job lettin’ in a bunch of kids like you.”
His lips were thinner than my patience.
Bonham went to work trying to convince Mick, and I lost interest as I slipped out from under his arm and surveyed my surroundings.
Across the street was another bar—how many bars did Meadow Grove have?
The sign, a dimly lit rectangle, read Al’s. The building had a very old look about it. Its windows were filled in with colored frosted glass cubes. Al’s was dark and dull, almost as though it wasn’t trying to impress anybody at all. As if daring each patron to come in at their own risk.
Shangri-La.
I left Bonham’s side and looked both ways before crossing the street, a little aware that he was on my heels.
“Bad idea, Al is a tired old man and he’ll never let you in,” Bonham warned.
I didn’t listen. In all the glitz and glamour of the bars all around, Al’s was the underdog and I wanted in.
Without hesitating, I grabbed the door handle and pushed inside. Bonham and Bug followed behind me, each releasing a breath.
The space was mostly empty, except for a few older men who hung by the bar, and a few women seated at a one of the booths that lined the perimeter.
Behind the bar an old man could be seen eyeing us with disdain.
He looked like the late Robin Williams, another great that had died young.
Maybe I would die young, too.
A victim of my own demise.
Bonham and Bug hung by the door, like two kids who had been scolded by their school teacher.
I went over to the bar and perched myself onto a stool. I met Al’s old eyes and nodded. “Hey.”
“I don’t serve minors,” he told me.
I was pretty smashed already if I had to admit. “Just a water.”
It was evident that Al didn’t know my angle as he narrowed his eyes.
He grabbed a glass and poured me some water and dropped a few ice cubes in it before handing it over.
“Cheers.” I tipped the glass toward him and took a quenching sip.
Turning on the stool, I studied the bar and the room before me. A few tables in the center of the floor, a karaoke machine in the corner adjacent to a jukebox, and in the back was something that instantly had my full attention. A mechanical bull.
I faced Al. “That thing available to minors?”
Al peered back at the mechanical bull. “I suppose so.” He returned to me. “What’s your play?”
I grinned. “To live.”
Al gave up his skepticism. “All right, you can stay. The first sign of trouble and you all are out, you got that?”
Bonham didn’t register Al’s words until Bug was leaving his side and grabbing a seat at the bar.
Bug ordered a cola and I climbed off of the stool, aimed to tame the bull.
At the jukebox, I riffled through the catalog, surprised to find a few modern artists against all the legends.
I settled on Lynyrd Skynyrd as I faced the bull.
Al was at my side, staring at me reluctantly. “You sure about this, young lady?”
Maybe this would injure me or kill me. Maybe I would regret it.
Would I let it stop me? Let fear hold me back?
My life wasn’t in my own hands, but tonight, I was going against the grain and living how I wanted to in this one-horse town.
“Yes,” I said.
Bonham came and helped me climb astride the bull. He grinned up at me with a shake of his head.
“You like Atreyu?” he asked me.
“A song or two,” I admitted of the rock band.
He patted my thigh. “Well today, you become the bull.”
I caught his pun and again I laughed.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Al stood at the controls off to the side.
I braced myself, holding onto the rope used for a grip.
Closing my eyes, I said, “Sail.”
The mechanical bull jerked to life and all I could feel was that moment of almost losing my grip, of almost losing control. My body swayed here and there with the powerful movement of the bull, almost threatening to send me off of it.
I just kept telling myself to hold on, that if I could hold on as tightly as I could, that I could make it, that I could keep all of my shit together.
The music continued to play as I felt myself slip into a comfortable subconscious.
Just hold on. Just sail. Just hold on. Just sail. Just hold on. Just sail.
Soon, I couldn’t feel a thing, not my hand on the rope or the bull trying to rid itself of my body.
I was free.
I was sailing.
This euphoria, this bliss, it couldn’t be beat. Nothing could reach me and all was finally okay.
The sound of cheering brought me down to gravity.
I opened my eyes.
The bull had stopped.
Around the bar people were cheering.
I guess I beat it.
“Well done.” Al was impressed.
Mostly, my gaze was locked on Bonham.
He looked like a proud father or something as he stood back with open arms for me to come to him.
Al helped me off of the bull and I walked right into Bonham’s arms.
“I’m so fucking into you,” he told me before his mouth met mine.
Bonham’s parents let him crash in the apartment over their garage.
He’d taken and turned the place into the perfect hangout pad with its setup of chairs, a sofa, an impressive music collection, record player, and endless supply of alcohol he’d stashed in his mini fridge.
His parents apparently turned a blind eye to his smoking and drinking so long as they never caught him. My type of people.
Bug was lying back on the sofa, smoking a joint he’d dramatically rolled for our viewing, while Bonham and I shared a bottle of Jim Beam and a cigarette all while listening to old rock and roll.
We weren’t really dancing, but Bonham’s arms were around me and mine were around him as the music played.
The Rolling Stones came on. One of my favorite records by them, “Beast of Burden.” Bonham started singing to me, his voice all deep and raspy from smoking and drinking, and I loved it.
I swayed my hips in a seductive manner, all too aware that Bonham was right where I wanted him.
As Mick started begging in the song, Bonham dipped down on his knees, clasping his hands together, singing along with the tune.
In that moment, there was nothing sexier than Bonham Church singing the Stones to me and begging with that gorgeous face of his.
I curled my finger, telling him to come back up to me. He sang all the way as his hands ran along the curves of my body.
By this late in the evening, I was hot with desire and all too ready to rip his clothes off.
The song ended and Bonham took our cigarette stub and tossed it in the nearest ashtray.
“Bug,” he said without taking an eye off of me. “Go on a beer run.”
Bug was confused as he sat up. “But we just stocked the fridge yesterday.”
Bonham eyed his friend. “Then go and do something that buys us time.”