Chapter Five

Lance was sprawled out limp on the couch, watching some hidden camera show on the television and playing No Woman, No Cry in the background, but not really paying attention to either. He held a rolled up comic book in one hand and his phone in the other; Bozzio had called from the Lounge for the sole purpose of making pointless argument with him. For some unknown reason, everyone he had considered a friend found it endlessly entertaining to wind Lance up and upset him to the point he started screaming, and as soon as Bozzio called he could tell this was just such a situation. The rest of the band was snickering in the back, confirming these suspicions.

Normally Lance would become incensed at the mere notion they'd all decided to call and upset him for their own amusement, but he was especially bored that evening. Ash, despite his expertly executed romance the night before, was still angry over finding out that he'd gotten high at the Lounge, and gave him an earful when they woke up that morning; talking about how 'there are going to be some big changes' the way she always did when she got mad at him. She never meant it though; she just said those things because she knew it upset Lance (who hated change). Now she was spending the evening eating dinner with Rosita's family, leaving Lance enough money for a pizza.

When Lance was brave or angry enough to call Ash out and enquire as to what the 'changes' would entail, she'd begin with the biggest offences (the ones that kicked off the fight) and then gradually list off smaller, petty grievances. His quickdraw insults, macabre and perverse sense of humor, and casual swearing were usually the first on the chopping block; but she never really blamed him for these quirks, so she never made any real effort to make him change them.

Lance's parents were poor rednecks from the deep south who came to California when Lance's father (also a musician) thought he could be a musical sensation through the blending of surf rock melodies and wild vocals with the rhythm of his native delta blues. By all accounts (mainly Lance's long-suffering mother's) he was a violent and disturbed man. By the time Ash had met Lance, his father was long gone, but she could tell that he had an indelible effect on her boyfriend's young psyche, for however long he was around.

"She thinks I'm gonna tip the pizza guy, but she's wrong," he said, unraveling the comic book to flip through it. It was some dreadful pulp magazine in the vein of Weird Tales that he'd picked up in some comic book store near Santa Monica the other day.

"Yeah, that extra four bucks will really make a difference in your Roth IRA, Lance," Bozzio buzzed from the other end of the line.

"Shut the fuck up, Bozzio," Lance replied calmly, cradling the phone in his neck and scanning a few paragraphs of The Medusa of Madison Avenue. "And I think you mean three dollars."

"What'd you get on it?" asked Bozzio, as if he were actually interested.

"Ash isn't going to have any, so I got one with anchovies," answered Lance, getting distracted by the magazine.

Only silence from Bozzio's end for a couple seconds, then he said, "God, Lance–cheap and disgusting. Ash is one lucky lady-"

"You know what, Bozzio?" Lance flipped through another page, and could sense their anticipation. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. "You can talk about me, but don't talk about my pizza toppings." There was a knock at the door. "I've gotta go, Bozzio–pizza's here," and he slid a finger over the phone, tossing the magazine on the coffee table. Lurching off the couch and snapping up the pizza money in single motion, Lance trotted over to front door and swung it open–laughing as soon as he saw the delivery boy.

"Ayyy! Nice leather jacket, Donkey Kong. I've got a jukebox in here, maybe you and Ron Howard could take a look at it?" Lance chuckled derisively at the confused delivery boy (who was strangely not holding any food). Lance caught on, and stopped laughing. "Where's my pizza, Magilla?" he asked impatiently, the humor leaving his voice immediately.

The gorilla at the door was obviously intimidated, and timidly stammered, "I'm, uh… I don't have a pizza, or anything like that. I'm just, uh-" in a cockney accent.

"Then why the fuck are you here?" Lance asked aggressively, noticing the ape's gentle, timorous nature.

"I–uh, I thought a friend of mine, I mean, I thought this was her address, but-" he started, afraid of offending Lance any further. "Do you know a porcupine named Ash?" he asked, and saw that it clearly had an effect on Lance.

"Who's asking?" asked Lance, less aggressive but more sinister.

"I-I'm… She's a friend of mine, I know her from a show we did at the, um, the Moon Theater. It was on the news," he answered.

Uh-oh , Lance thought, Ash is gonna put my ass in a sling, and his demeanor changed in an instant. "Why didn't you say so? Yeah, I know her. Here, come on in," Lance stepped to one side and flicked his head, inviting the kid inside.

"Oh, uh, alright–thanks," said the gorilla, walking in the apartment before Lance closed the door. "My name's Johnny, by the way," Johnny said, looking at Lance as if to ask his name, but Lance was silent.

"Sorry about treating you that way at the door and, uh… using those speciest epithets but, y'know, Ash lives here and, uh…" Lance had no idea how he was going to finish this sentence when he started it, and he also wasn't sorry. "She's a girl and, well… you know," he said, hopping back up on the couch and turning down the volume on the T.V. (but leaving the record on).

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Johnny didn't get it, but he'd gotten used to this kind of jock talk around his dad's friends. "So, are you her boyfriend, or…?" he asked, sitting politely on the couch.

"Yeah, sure am. I mean, I'm lucky enough to be," Lance said. Johnny wasn't so hard to read, but he was used to dealing with more volatile personalities. "I haven't always been as good to her as I should've been, but… Uh… I love her," he stammered, looking for a position from which he could tell Johnny exactly who he was without alienating another one of Ash's friends. Surely Johnny should have at least started to catch on, but he was just giving Lance a sidelong stare, smirking and nodding his head at the mention of love. Maybe he hadn't even heard of their break-up? Or maybe he was playing his hand close to the chest. Then, as they sat there in an awkward tension, Johnny's expression shifted, and he looked over a little surprised.

"A-are you… Are you Lance?" Johnny asked, eyebrows raised.

Lance smirked and said, "In the flesh."

"So… So Ash and you… The two of you are back together?" he asked, more inquisitive than incredulous. Lance was silent, staring at Johnny with a little grin as if to say 'Took you long enough. ' Johnny looked up and away, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. "Well, I guess that's none of my business."

There was a charged silence, with hushed commercials emanating from the television and the saccharine island sounds of Bob Marley and The Wailers being the only noise in the apartment. "So, why'd you come here anyway, John?" asked Lance, thrashing the tension.

Johnny fidgeted a little in his seat, mulling something over in his mind, then said, "I like this music you're playing. Reggae, innit?" avoiding the question and annoying Lance (but he didn't show it).

"Actually, in this tempo, it would technically be closer to rocksteady," said Lance. Johnny only nodded his head in deference.

"So, uh… You know a lot about music?" Johnny asked, if only to stave off the awkward pauses. Years of being forced into conversation with his father's friends had given him plenty of experience in making small talk with undesirables like Lance, but it was still an effort.

"Yeah…" Lance nodded his head, not forgetting that Johnny was avoiding the question on the floor (namely, why he was there in the first place). "Among other things…"

"Like… uh…" Johnny began, again fidgeting as if he were debating with himself.

'Like, uh'–'like, uh' what, Koko?! thought Lance, getting angry but being very careful not to let it show. He couldn't stand these soft spoken types, or at least when they wouldn't submit to him. But, if it was for Ash, he was willing to put up with it (for a little while).

"Like, about girls?" Johnny asked earnestly. He wasn't sure how smart it was to ask Lance about the fairer sex, seeing as how he barely knew him (and what he did know about him wasn't good), but the date of the fundraiser was fast approaching. Women always seemed more attracted to jerks like Lance, anyway–that was Johnny's experience, at least, so what harm could there be in just listening to what Lance had to say? He did get Ash to take him back, after all.

Lance was trying hard to keep a straight face. If you asked anyone familiar with him, you'd hear something different–but Lance didn't consider himself prone to mood swings; as far as he was concerned, when you go from howling in anger (on the inside) to containing hysterical laughter, that's just an interesting afternoon. "Y-yeah, bud. I know all about the ladies," he said, his lips curling up at a confused Johnny. "You just listen to Papa Lance, baby boy. He'll make you a real Don Juan in no time."

In a scene that might, in a less happy porcupine, trigger an existential crisis, Ash was sitting at the table as Rosita washed dishes after dinner. They had been joking around about what Buster and Eddie might get up to at the fundraiser when Rosita suggested Ash might think about bringing someone to the party, herself. Ash, who'd come to dinner with the express intent of revealing her romantic situation to Rosita, was desperately trying to think of a way to ease her into it.

Ash figured that, if there was no avoiding making a scene at the fundraiser (and knowing Lance, there was going to be a scene) then she might as well tell who she could before the big night, and maybe even get a few people on her side. Buster was a wild card, she had no idea how he might take it, but she had a feeling he could go off the deep end. Meena would probably be on her side, no matter what, even if it was only to keep a fight from breaking out. Meena's family, however, was very protective of Ash; but she couldn't even begin to formulate a plan for telling them, considering she only ever interacted with them as a group.

Rosita and Norm were the safest bets, and the easiest to tell (Ash had assumed). She only had to tell Rosita, anyway, and Norman would find out from her later.

"Well, actually, I already have someone I'm gonna bring," said Ash, her tone shifting from the earlier joking.

"Ooh, give me all the details!" Rosita finished scraping the last plate and set it in some dishwater. "What's his name?" she asked, just as Ash was about to reply. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and turned around, leaning against the counter. She could tell from Ash's face that something was amiss, and her own expression shifted.

"What's whose name?" asked Norm, striding into the kitchen and toward the fridge.

Ash found her situation a bit more dire than she'd previously imagined. "Well, um… I was actually thinking of bringing Lance."

Norman yanked his head out of the fridge and threw a befuddled look at Ash, with Rosita shaking her head in disbelief.

"I get it, yeah. I know what it's like, Little John. My step dad wanted me to drive his bread truck," said Lance, then he took a bite of the pizza slice he was holding. It'd taken a little while, but he'd gradually worn Johnny down and gotten in his head. It had taken a delicately assembled ballet of nuanced conversation, brotherly jabs and urbane joking, but Lance had finally put Johnny in a place where he could influence him.

The young gorilla, who was usually very guarded when it came to the details of his personal life, found himself being much more open with Lance, and after only a couple hours of conversation. He couldn't explain it, but the porcupine had a haunting charisma, an animal magnetism that made Johnny want to be his friend. They had been talking about Johnny's father, childhood, hopes and aspirations; all the most personal aspects of Johnny's life. It was as if Lance were looking for something–and he only ever confessed enough about his life to make Johnny feel comfortable with talking about his own.

"But you can't always listen to your parents," Lance continued. "They say that they only want what's best for you, but… I can't remember how many times I got kicked out of the house. Which, y'know, just makes it that much more painful when Ash does it to me…" said Lance, plastering a pensive look on his face and feigning emotion. Johnny gobbled it up.

"Aw, c'mon mate. Ash loves you. So what if she makes a few mistakes? And, like you said, they all get a little bit too emotional sometimes," said Johnny, leaning forward, and Lance smirked.

"Thanks, Johnny," he replied, then sipped on a can of soda. "Well, the little lady will be gettin' home soon."

"Yeah," said Johnny, standing up. He'd forgotten that Ash was who he'd come to speak with, under the illusion that he was Lance's friend first. "Well, I'll see you at the party, yeah?"

"You know it," said Lance, standing up and walking with Johnny over to the door, pizza slice in hand. "Remember what we talked about, Lothario, and the girls won't be able to resist you, alright? And don't forget, no one needs to hear about Ash and I ," the porcupine opened the door, and Johnny stepped out.

"Sure thing, Lance. I'll see ya," he said, smiling and giving a little wave before starting toward his car.

"You betcha, John-boy!" Lance closed the door and took a bite of his pizza, muttering, "You stupid kong," as he sauntered back to the couch.