Nobody dies a virgin….Life fucks us all

-Kurt Cobain

#

Bonnie missed New York. She missed the grimy dive bars celebrating Banksy on their graffiti bathroom walls through epic renditions of sex rhymes. She missed the cheesy I love New York logo on those dumb shirts that tourists bought by the truck load around Time Square. She was going to miss foggy Central Park just before sunrise.

"Hey, did you know that they shot Twin Peaks along these parts?" Kol yelled starring into the mirror while he lathered his face with shaving cream. She was going to miss that stubble.

"Just outside Seattle"

"That's great" she muttered thumbing her way through her New York scrapbook. Kol thought scrapbooks were redundant and archaic; she thought they were a nostalgic novelty. They were one of the small girlish pleasures that she would never admit to having, that and her frilly white ankle socks.

"You think you'll start a Seattle one?" he gestured to her scrapbook throwing her a can of beer. They had met through Craigslist three years ago, she was selling her cello and he was looking to buy one.

Kismet.

"What has Seattle done for me lately?" Bonnie scoffed running her thumb along the rim of the perspiring can. They had the heater on because it was drizzling again outside. Kol always defended the petulant rain and the emerald city stating that it was the constant rain that made Seattle so beautiful…so fucking green.

"Yeah, what have those New York subway rats done for you lately?"

"Look at it this way, Seattle gave birth to Jimi Hendrix and Nirvana. What could be fucking better than that?" he talked and she ran her green eyes along the taut lines of his ridged abdomen.

"The bad boys of rock, right?" She watched him slip on a green parka over his denim shirt, his rugged blue jeans riding low.

"What is it about bad boys?" she asked downing a shot of whisky before thumping the glass down on the side table next to her "they do absolutely nothing for me" she said chasing the shot down with a pitcher of cold beer.

'You sure about that?" Kol raised an eyebrow beckoning her with a single finger.

"Abso-fucking-lutely" she took another swig of beer before sauntering toward him "you heading out?"

"Yeah, the coffee shop…'have to finish that piece I'm working on"

"Again?" she cocked an eyebrow at him "I thought we'd hang out" she simpered gesturing to the rumpled bed with bleached white sheets that still smelled of laundry-mat-bleach.

"I have a deadline darling," he leaned in closer to her, dipping his head "don't you have an interview to prepare for?"

"Hmm…tomorrow" she moaned, fingers crawling around the back of his neck. Something pulled in her belly like an eight ton truck revving its breaks straight to her gut and she pulled him closer. Bonnie cupped the back of his neck with both hands, her fingers tangled in his soft muddy blonde hair, nails digging at the nape of his neck and then she kissed him. She felt him hesitate at first, his lips closed around her coiling breath and then something in Kol bucked and his mouth opened, his tongue tangling with hers. Their kiss was hungry, needy, wanting and desperate. It was as if he alone could cure what ached in her and she alone could fill what needed to be filled in him.

Kol stopped first, pulling back to take a gulp of beer from her bottle.

"Hey, bring me back one of those sticky maple donuts with lots of bacon!" she called as he grabbed his car keys.

"You got it" he chuckled snatching an untouched can of beer and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"What no umbrella?"

"It's just drizzle"

Kol winked with a grin before exiting their small apartment.

#

Rain City where plaid flannel and grunge came to die, Damon shook his head swinging around to get a better look at the blonde in torn denim shorts and doc martins. He'd like to be her rain city superhero, he smirked unloading boxes from his rusty old truck.

Thank you New York. My lover and sadist.

Thank you for finally quitting me you jerk ass, he mused lugging his Gibson electric guitar up the stairs to the new apartment. He looked up at the metal sky; the damn rain was coming again. Seattle was a different breed but New York was poison.

An hour later he found himself in Key West mulling over which brand of espresso to order as opposed to the beer his gut was telling him to buy. Thirty minutes later he was sitting in some shitty bar across some crappy gift shop selling t-shirts bearing Kurt Cobain's portrait and drinking beer on tap. He drummed his fingers on the long maple bar top as he waited for the club promoter. The nerves were getting to him; he cracked his neck wishing he had a packet of smokes with him.

He enjoyed his morning cigarette but he'd decided to quit since moving to Seattle. New York quit him so he quit his camel. He was back to small gigs now, no more live stadium shows opening for Pearl Jam. The light rain persisted with traffic a standstill, their gold headlights shimmering in the grey sprinkle.

"Hey mate"

Damon looked up as the owner of the crusty voice slung his gangly arm around one of the bar stools next to him.

"You must be-"he couldn't recall the name but he knew from the unaffected Australian drawl that he was the guy he had been waiting a good hour for.

"Adrian, "he swung himself over the chair settling in beside Damon.

"Good to meet you man, "Damon said offering his hand.

"You ready for your gig tomorrow?'

"Yeah" he replied with a shrug. A gig was a gig, no matter if it was in some small backward bar in Seattle. It was a start. Hell, it was the redemption he needed.

"Welcome to Seattle mate"