4. Rocket Skates

I was onstage dancing, not even paying attention to the thousand or so people in the crowd watching. What was on stage was, for a change, more interesting to me, and that was because this wasn't my show.

"Guns! Razors! Kniiiiiiiiives! Fuck with me!" Chino was screaming, mere feet from where I stood. "Guns! Razors! Kniiiiiiiiiiiives! WOO!"

It had just taken me over. I was put into a trance by the music reverberating in my skull. I couldn't believe that I was standing onstage with a band that I had loved for so many years. This was literally a dream come true.

Once the show was over, I had to leave.

"I know," I was telling Stephen Carpenter as I tried to make my exit. "I wish I could stay."

"Why aren't you?" he asked.

"I have a shoot pretty early tomorrow with Inked." Which I had been insanely hyped about, until the timing fucked up my night.

"It was great meeting you," he said before giving me a hug. I thanked him and all of the other members before I set out on foot.

I was too drunk to drive and the guys were staying anyway. There wasn't really any public transportation around here, either. It was dark and wet and cold. I was under dressed and paranoid, so I gripped my knife open inside of my hoodie pocket.

I passed clusters of people and a few stragglers pouring out of the bars nearby. I got some looks and a few catcalls, and one person actually took a photo of me; I hoped that they recognized me, because otherwise that was pretty creepy.

Another block passed when I heard... something. A crash, a yelp, I don't know but my brain automatically registered that something dangerous was happening not far from me. I ran straight down the alleyway to my right and within seconds I was gripping this guys jacket in my ice cold hands and my knee was making harsh contact between his legs.

He groaned loudly in pain and began to wretch like he was going to vomit.

I spotted another teenage guy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he snapped. His eyes rose and then grew wide. "Liz Collins! Holy shit! It's you!" He took my hand and straightened up to standing. He was tall and really scrawny, probably about sixteen years old. He was wearing a Desperate Attempt hoodie and Tripp jeans from Hot Topic.

"Come on." I motioned back towards the street with my head.

He instantly followed me. "I can't believe this! Will you sign my shirt? Will you take a picture with me? Wait til I tell Devin..."

"Want me to walk you home?" I interrupted his rambling. "And yes, I'll sign whatever and take a pic."

"I'm a huge fan," he said, suddenly staring at me. "This makes getting beat up by that dickface again totally worth it!"

I frowned. "Does he do that often?"

Kid shrugged. "He's a bully. Maybe getting kneed in the nuts by you will change that."

"Maybe," I snorted. "I used to get bullied, too."

"Really?"

"Yep. Not so much physically, but kids in school were always mean to me."

He stopped walking. "That's weird to think about."

"All these kids in school with you... all the ones that are popular for being assholes, they're probably going through things that you wouldn't imagine. And no one is giving them the help they need so they go to school and take out their anger on kids like you. The ones that are just assholes to be assholes, they'll get theirs one day. Life has a way of handling this shit, right?"

"I like that," he smiled. Then he sighed. "This is my house. I should probably go in before my mom starts freaking out... but will you come in with me?"

I raised one seriously skeptical eyebrow.

"I mean... Oh! I'm not t-trying to lure you or something! I mean, I would n-never... I mean, ah, shit... Markers! My markers are inside and you said you'd sign - "

"TATE!" a woman yelled from the front door. "Is that you? You better get your behind in here out of that cold!"

I laughed. "I can come in for a minute," I finally told him.

He led me up the walkway and stopped to introduce me to his mother. He was so proud of who he'd brought home, and she had no idea who I was aside from some picture of me in her sons room.

He took me to said room, and I felt like a teenager again. Posters, drawings, clips of poetry and lyrics covered the walls. I zeroed in on a poster of me wearing next to nothing in a very provocative pose.

"Awkward," I commented.

"Found it!" he proclaimed, holding a sharpie high in the air. "Oh, I love that one. The way her, I mean your..."

I spun around and smirked. "Probably shouldn't finish that sentence."

He was blushing and his phone started going off. "Dev! DUDE! You will never, ever believe who is in my room." The person responded before Tate screamed, "IT'S LIZ FUCKING COLLINS, DUDE! SHE'S IN. MY. ROOM!"

He held out the phone to me. "Uh. Hi?"

"No way. Who is this really?" a young voice asked.

"It's really me," I answered awkwardly.

"When's your birthday?" he started to quiz me.

"It was two weeks ago," I laughed. "You do realize that, even if I wasn't me, I could just look that up. Right?"

"Good point," he conceded. "Skype me!"

Tate was already opening up his laptop and calling Devin on it. His face appeared momentarily on the screen, and then he was a blur of movement as he bounced around. He got down on his knees and hailed Tate as a God.

"You're embarrassing me," Tate scoffed.

"Is she the first girl that's ever been in your room?" Devin asked.

"Closing the laptop now," Tate retorted.

"Wait, dude! I - " and then he was gone.

"Sorry about that," he said, turning red again.

"It's okay," I giggled. "Let's take that picture."

I was about two blocks away from Tate's house and about a block away from the motel when my phone started to ring. The screen read that it was Ana Belle, but I had a feeling it wasn't her on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Hey, babe," Seth answered. "You okay?"

I shook my head no. "Yeah... you?"

"I'd be a lot better if you would answer your phone when I call."

"I'm busy sometimes when you call." I finally made it to the desk of the motel. "Hold on a second." I left him on hold for the entire duration of the check-in process, mentally kicking myself before returning to our conversation. "I'm sorry," I finally said.

"Baby," he purred, "I miss you. You've got to talk to me."

"I miss you, too. I just... have so much going on lately."

"Speaking of which, why were you hanging out in a fifteen year old boys room?"

That was quick. I plopped down on the gross bed I'd be sleeping in for the night. "I found him in an alley getting his ass beat and walked him home."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. He was a nice kid. Big fan."

"Look... I've been trying to talk to you about coming out for your last show," he finally said.

I sighed. "I know."

"Is that why you're avoiding me?" He suddenly sounded pissed.

"Honestly? It is. Because as badly as I want to see you, I just don't think you being here for that one is a good idea."

"Liz... Why?" And now he sounded hurt, and that was really why I hadn't wanted to have this conversation.

"I'll be back home. I just want to see my family and then blow the fucking top off of my town, and part of that is that I really have to bring the party. If you're there, I'm only going to spend time wrapped around you and rubbing up against you inappropriately."

"I really like the sound of that," he replied.

"I fucking do, too. After this show, I'm almost home bound."

"What do you mean 'almost'?"

"Two shows to see in Seattle." I was really starting to think about the next time I would get to see him and it was making me incredibly aroused right now. "So... what are you wearing?"

He laughed nervously. "Well, uh... I'm in bed, so I'm just wearing some pajama pants. Your pajama pants, actually."

I smiled. "Anything underneath them?"

"Nope. What about you?" He sounded much happier now.

"Well... hold on a second." I had to put my phone down to pull my hoodie over my head. I'm wearing black legging with jean shorts and a Superjoint Ritual t-shirt."

"Boots?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Perfect."

"Um... hold on again." I had to pee, and I wasn't trying to have phone sex while on the toilet. I threw my phone to the bed and ran to the bathroom where I saw someone lying in the bathtub. I screamed at the top of my lungs and grabbed the first thing my hand touched - a blow dryer - and lopped it at the persons head. I'd left my knife in the hoodie I'd just removed.

"Ow, fuck! Legs! It's me." The body rolled over.

"What. The. FUCK. Are you doing here?!" I screamed. "Go back to your room!"

"I can't!" Bradley slurred. "Just let me sleep in here." And then he was out again, face down on the porcelain.

"I have to pee!" I shouted, but he didn't move. He was asleep facing away from me at least, so I went ahead and used the toilet. I ran back to my phone. "You still there?"

"Are you okay?!" Seth yelled.

"Yeah, Brad is asleep in my bathtub. I hit him with a blow dryer."

He sighed longingly. "We'll pick this back up... next time you're alone."

I pouted, but I also wasn't willing to masturbate that close to my drunken idiot band mate. "Okay."

"When are you coming back to me? It's almost New Year's." He was so irritated with me, and I couldn't really blame him. I had been flaky lately, as he had already pointed out. I wasn't trying to be, but it still kept happening.

"Why don't you come see me in Seattle? We can go home together." For now.

"That would be... almost as good as seeing you before then, so I'll take it. I love you. Please call me soon."

"I will. I love you, too." And we hung up. I stared at my phone for a moment, wondering just what in the fuck I was doing when I heard a loud pissy groan.

Bradley hit the floor in the bathroom and then stumbled his way over to the bed and sat down next to me.

"You're not sleeping up here," I snapped.

"Wasn't planning to, but I bet the floor is better than the tub. Now seriously. What are you doing?"

"Wallowing in my misery?"

"Seth looks at you like you shit gold nuggets and rainbows and your tits are full of Hawaiian Punch, and you act like he's an inconvenience."

I had to break eye contact before I cried. "I just need to be alone for a while."

"But you refuse to cut him loose. Liz, the dude is totally enamored with you and obviously he'll wait for you. But why would you make him?"

"Maybe I'm a narcissist." I didn't feel like one but I sure could act like one. Like the only persons feelings that mattered to me were my own. And I had no excuse for it, for not being where the people I loved needed me to be except that when I found myself looking at the home I'd left behind, I felt like the ache inside me was going to pull me under like a wave and swallow me whole.

"Cut it out," he said after a moment. "You can't push everyone away while you're on the road. You'll be home at some point and you'll be alone if you alienate everyone while you're not there."

I squinted at him. "Go pass back out, my drunken philosopher. I'm going to sleep."