Chapter 9 #3
Ray shrugs. He adjusts his newsboy cap on his head, wearing it to make himself less recognizable.
“I don’t know. Maurice is a freelancer, not associated with any company.
And we’re already paying him to do our own photos for the band.
So if he took your photos, too… what would we do with them? Where would we send them?”
Carol pouts, apparently not liking Ray’s answer. “Well… okay. But, here’s an idea. What if I was also in your band photos?”
“What?” Ray blinks. “But you’re not a member!”
“You think that matters?” Carol chuckles, grabbing the bottom of her glass. “Rockstars pose with models all the time to make them look cool. Sex appeal, you know? It’ll help us both out—I get to star in photos with you guys, giving me exposure, and you guys get to look sexy with me.”
Ray takes a sip from his Rum-and-Coke, thinking for a moment. “Okay, yeah, I see the appeal. What about Pat, though? She’s a woman; wouldn’t it look weird if she’s hovering over you, too, like the men would be?”
“No, I don’t think it’d be weird.” Carol takes a sip as well.
“Women are all over each other all the time in photos. It’s all acting, for the most part, but audiences love it.
When I’m at my gigs, usually the other models will tell stories of shoots they’ve done and how they’ve been instructed to ‘act like they’re turned on’. It’s kinda funny.”
“Ah. Yeah, that makes sense.” Ray has seen his fair share of lingerie ads—he likes looking at the pretty girls—and in those, occasionally, the women would be looking at the camera sensually, even touching each other sometimes.
But Ray would never assume they were actually being sexual with each other—it’s all acting, part of the photo.
Anything Carol would do, if she posed with the Dusty Brooms, would be much more tame than those ads.
“Alright, yeah, why not? Maybe we can set something up with Maurice soon. We probably should, since we got another album on the way.”
“Sounds good.” She gives him a sweet smile before taking another sip of her drink.
Ray drinks more as well, gazing around the bar.
There’s a small platform stage in the back, and later, there’s going to be a local band playing on it, one he’s never heard of.
But there’s always a chance they’ll rise to the top, just like the Dusty Brooms did.
As a matter of fact, playing a free show in a bar just like this was the Brooms’ first ever gig.
But before this new band takes the stage, the bar plays some top radio hits through the speakers lining the walls.
It’s a song Ray recognizes: ‘Golden Years’ by David Bowie.
He bobs his head to the beat, feeling the groove—but is startled when he overhears a few rowdy young men at the table next to him.
“Dammit, change the fucking song!” one of them exclaims. “I’m tired of hearing this faggot everywhere.”
Ray winces.
“I hear he’s having an affair with Iggy Pop,” another one from the group says. “Wouldn’t be the first gay affair he’s had. I heard he’s been with Lou Reed and Mick Jagger, too. Maybe even both at the same time.”
“You think I wanna hear about that shit, Troy?” the first one says, glaring at his friend.
“Well, it was on topic.”
“For fuck’s sake.” The first guy shakes his head.
“Hey, even if he is a queer, I think he still makes good music,” the third friend at the table says.
“Always gotta be a contrarian, don’t ya, Rick,” the first one says.
“What? It’s not like I’m imagining some gay shit when I listen to it.”
“If you were, I’d beat your ass.”
That gets their friend Troy to laugh. Yet it does the opposite to Ray, his stomach now churning with nausea.
“They should play some good ol’ Ted Nugent,” Troy says. “As far as I know, he loves his women. And he’s a local!”
“Yeah! C’mon, man!” the first guy cheers.
A shiver runs down Ray’s spine. He can’t keep listening to these guys.
He finishes his drink, letting out a sigh as he sets the glass back down on the table.
Carol makes eye contact with him. Was she listening in on them, too?
It’s pretty hard not to. Either way, she doesn’t seem to want to comment on it, which relieves Ray.
“I’m gonna get another drink,” Ray tells Carol. “You wanna come up to the bar with me?”
“But I’m not even done with my first,” she giggles.
“I’ll finish it for you if you don’t want it.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll drink it. It’s not that much, anyway.”
And so, after Carol finishes the last drops of her drink, they go up to the bar to get new ones. With their new glasses in hand, Ray convinces Carol that they should find a different table, with the excuse that he’d rather sit closer to the upcoming band once they start playing.
And when that band does come onstage and the alcohol catches up to him, he loses himself in the music.
This band is honestly pretty good, even if they’re just playing covers.
He nods his head, singing along softly to the tunes he knows, and Carol joins in with him.
Yet even doing this brings back a memory.
He’s reminded of when he and Gene would listen to cover bands at bars just like this one.
Carol smiles at Ray, and he wishes it were Gene instead of her.