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WitFit Jan/Feb 2013

90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll

Word Prompt: Bottle

Scenario: Write a piece based upon the best advice you've ever received.

-PoM-

"Right there. No, over to the left a little. Getting warmer . . ."

"Just tell me where it is!"

"You'll know it when you feel it."

And that was it—that one made me cackle. "Really?" My hands flicked through the rack of CDs in front of me. L. L Cool J.; L7; Leadbelly. "It's so awesome I'll just feel it?"

I had to admit that Edward's idea for blowing off steam after the scene at the club was a pretty good one. Apparently he liked to play guessing games in Tower Records, and I was currently browsing the L section trying to figure out what his 'all time favorite make-out album' was. It was genius because A: the store was open late, and B: I loved this place and he'd done a great job on choosing something that would ease some of the stress.

"It's pretty damn good," he said, all smug and sure of himself.

And then I spotted it, and it was so obvious I should have already guessed it. "Got it." I said, spinning around. "Led Zepplin, IV, and I'm going to go more specific and say Stairway to Heaven is what you start off with."

He cocked his head, studying me, and then nodded. "Damn you're good."

"Easy one. Screams boy and teenage seduction methods. Slightly poetic with a gradual move toward climax. Add in that any music person will easily list Zep as one of, if not the top band, to influence metal and rock, and it's a shoo-in."

"Did all of that really just come out of your brain or did you read that in Rolling Stone and you're simply regurgitating words?"

I continued down the row, dragging my fingers over the stacks of CDs. "If you must know, I read, listen to, and formulate my own opinions about things."

Right then, it didn't matter that I smelled like Eau de Beer. Or that the flannel Edward had lent me was warm and soft and considerably drier than the ruined shirt I wore underneath. Or that he was being a pest because I'd beat him at his own game. I was surrounded by music and talking about it, something I'd loved ever since I was little and my mom listened to The Eagles nonstop. I took a deep breath and turned, joy on my face.

"Believe it or not, I have tons of thoughts written down in journals about the music I like. I don't usually go back and read them because I know the words already, but I save them for reference anyway."

"I see a music critic in the making," he said as I turned to head into the next aisle.

"Doubtful. I just know what I like and what I don't. Music is subjective—people get what they want from certain song lyrics that another person without the same experience might not see."

Seeing as he was sharing favorites with me, I meandered my way down toward the end of the alphabet, stopping to look through random stacks along the way.

"This is a good one," I said, holding up a Screaming Trees album.

He moved to look over my shoulder, hummed his assent, and then his arms were around me, chin on my shoulder and lips on my jaw. "I am sorry, you know."

I threaded my hands through his, rested them on my stomach. I pulled him along behind me, not caring that I was walking like a duck to get his feet to move. "I know you are. And you gained back major points by bringing me here. Aha. There it is."

"What?"

"Your turn. One of my favorite CDs ever is in this section. Find it, and I might kiss you again."

"Mighty high stakes there, Bella. Guess I better take this pretty seriously, huh?"

"Yep." I turned around and sorted through the soundtrack section on the opposite side of the aisle, giving him time to figure it out on his own.

"Okay," he said a few minutes later. "If I'm right, then we need to have a talk because I think you might be my dream girl."

He was just being silly, now, but the words settled themselves around me all the same. I turned, leaning my hip against the bin and held my hand out for his guess. "Nice job. I love these guys—I don't think it's possible to have too much of them in your collection. "

"The Femmes, huh? Yep, you're meant for me, Bella. Do you know that my tastes leaned toward punk music rather than the stuff they were dishing out on MTV? I mean until I graduated to metal."

"Ooh. Like Poison?"

"Bite your tongue, woman. Try Megadeth or Anthrax." He grabbed a CD randomly and held it up. "First thoughts."

"Haunting and lyrical."

He nodded his head appreciatively. "Next."

"Pounding metal that vibrates your soul."

"Hmm. This one."

"Mommy issues."

He laughed and sat the stack down. "You should do this for a living. You really do know your stuff. Albums have overall vibes, and you get that."

"No. Music critics are a self-aggrandizing, hypocritical group of guys."

"That's a strong opinion."

"And one I generally keep to myself."

Looking down, started to search the rows of CDS again for something to buy. He already had a stack of picks in his hand, and so far my hands held one. He came up and leaned on the bin next to me.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" I made a face at one of the latest pop hits in the new releases section and groaned. What were people thinking buying this canned, generic . . . crap?

"I know that you're still a little pissed about what happened tonight. You can say you aren't, but you also keep blowing off my apologies."

That was true—but probably not for the reasons he was thinking. I felt at blame for the thing with Tanya, too. I'd known about her and went ahead with hooking up with Edward anyway, and that was a tough pill to swallow. But I also didn't want to be told my feelings were wrong because they weren't serious or whatever other explanation was convenient.

"I don't really want to talk about it at all right now. It happened, but I wish we could start over. Like, completely. I would have never run from you in the first place. It's like we've jumped all of the important steps of just getting to know each other first."

"I can see that," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back toward the middle of the store. "But I want you to know that it's gonna be all right. It's probably not going to be easy all the time, but me and you? We'll be cool if we just worry about ourselves."

I didn't look up at him; instead I grabbed an Eagles CD because my mom was on my mind now. He reached over and gently pulled my face around so he could look into my eyes.

"I mean it. You're . . . different, okay? There's something about you that I really dig, and I'd like to take to see where that leads us."

"What you're saying, it's great, really. I just wish it hadn't happened like that. I felt bad for her."

"Best advice someone ever gave me was that when you make a mistake, you do your best to move forward. You can't change what already happened; all you can do is work with what's here right now. Good or bad, you have to keep going."

"I like that," I said, smiling a bit. "Wise words."

"I know some people, and not all of them are fuckups." He laughed, and then glanced up. "How about we call this our 'official' first date and go from there."

I laughed. "Sure. I'd like that."

"We're getting the evil eye, I think." It was only then that I noticed a kid with a black polo and a lanyard around his neck watching us like a wary dog; I glanced at my watch, realized the employees might have wanted to close down the store.

"He looks like he could take you," I joked. "Better get our things and go."

-PoM-

It was late when we got back to my apartment. The blankets and half-eaten pizza I'd ordered out for earlier were still dotted around the room; the stacks of magazines were on the coffee table, too, next to a half empty bottle of Pepsi.

"Sorry for the mess, I was pretty lazy this afternoon."

"I'm jealous. Wish I could have been here with you."

"That would have been nice."

He handed me the bag containing our purchases. I went toward the stereo and put on The La's, an album I'd been dying to hear.

"Oh, I think I'm going to like this," I said, turning the jewel case over. I brought it with me and settled into Edward on the couch.

He, on the other hand, had other ideas. First it was my hair being brushed off my neck. The kissing of said neck started—he definitely knew how to get me worked up, and I didn't think it was altogether fair when I didn't really know any of his tells. The liner notes in my hands fluttered to the floor, all but forgotten as I stretched like a content cat and tilted my head.

"Mmm. This is more like a third date."

He laughed. "Did you forget your part of the bet? I guessed your favorite, now you have to kiss me."

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten all about that," I teased.

He stopped for a moment. "You're a cold, cold woman, Bella."

Still, he leaned into kiss me and I happily kissed him back.

"Is it stupid to feel this happy?"

"Not at all." He brushed his knuckles on my cheek. "Are you working Monday?"

"Yep. This is my last week of morning shift before school starts again."

"When do you get off?"

"Four."

"You should come down to the recording session."

I pulled back, trying to see if he was serious. He was.

"I don't know . . . Wouldn't I just be in the way?"

"Yeah right. I'd really like you to come hear my stuff." When he asked like that, there was no way I'd say no.

"What time?"

"We'll be set up and ready to go by three."

"I'd have to meet you there. It won't be too late?"

"Probably not. We're booked in the room until midnight. And Rose will be there—you'll be the only two allowed in."

"Wow. I feel important."

"You are," he said, maneuvering me until I was horizontal and he hovered overtop.

-PoM-

Thanks for reading!

Song: American Music—Violent Femmes

There She Goes – The La's

Dumb – Nirvana