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By Misti Date: 2001 Oct 06 Comment on this Work [[2001.10.06.15.09.8896]] |
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Shasta ignored the moody Neil from the London "The Real World" lookalike sitting at the far end of the purple sofa and sat down at the other end. She pulled a pack of Newports out of her red sequined handbag and lit one with her John Wayne lighter. With a deep sigh, Shasta sank back into the sofa and took a long drag. "Does this song bother you, too?" the moody, disgustingly good-looking blonde guy asked loudly over the song, which was booming from the speakers so hard that Shasta could feel it. "Yes," Shasta replied, nodding her head. The guy stood up and walked over to the bar. As he walked away, Shasta looked him over. Not only did he have a superb face...he had a beautiful butt, nicely accentuated by the black corduroy pants. Shasta smiled as she raised the cigarette to her M.A.C. lipsticked lips. He returned with a blue drink in one hand and a bright pink drink in the other. "Here you are, my newest friend. I thought you looked thirsty," he said, handing Shasta the bright pink drink. "Wow...Pretty in Pink. This is my favorite drink! Thank you. I'm Shasta." "It's always a Cruise Blues for me. Like every other American male in the '80s, I wanted to be Tom Cruise when I grew up. It's a pleasure to meet you, Shasta. I'm Rudolph. My friends call me Rudy. May I?" Shasta nodded her consent and Rudy sat down beside her. "Here's to the '80s," Rudy said, raising his glass. "Here's to Molly Ringwald," Shasta said, clinking her glass against Rudy's. "God bless her heart. Whatever happened to Molly?" "She grew up and moved on, I guess. So where are your friends?" "You'll never find them here. They hate disco and retro music. They make fun of me for comin' here. They're across the street at Inferno. They're into those techno beats. Where are yours?" "Oh, I don't really have any. I'm here with my cousin and her roommates. They're all hooked up. They're doin' the disco thing upstairs." "You don't have any friends?" "Nope. It's hard for me. I'm an introverted melancholy-phlegmatic. It's an extroverted sanguine-choleric world." "I catch your snow drift, Frosty. Well, you have at least one friend now." "We shouldn't have sex, then. I'd hate to lose you." "Oh, no. I don't plan on having sex for the rest of my life. Actually, I'll tell you a secret. I'm saving myself for Lucinda Williams." "What a coincidence! I'm saving myself for Mark McGrath!" "The lead singer of Sugar Ray, eh? Yes, he does have remarkable abs. Might I bum a cig?" "But of course. Here you are. Allow me to light it for you." Shasta handed Rudy a cigarette. He placed it between his lips and Shasta lit it with her John Wayne lighter. "John Wayne. That's wonderful," Rudy said with a laugh. Shasta loved how Rudy's eyes lit up. They twinkled with benevolence, suddenly. Like Santa Claus. "Were you named after the red-nosed reindeer?" Shasta asked, taking a sip of her drink. "Yes, actually, I was. My mom was a big fan of the TV special. She felt an affinity with Rudolph and Herbie the Elf. She's always been a misfit. She grew up in Arkansas. I hate to talk in stereotypes, but they really don't read or think much there. My mom was always reading and thinking. And she didn't care for football or beer. Were you named after the mystical mountain in California?" "No, I was named after the soda. My mom loved Shasta black cherry cola in the '70s. Now, of course, she drinks Crystal Light." "So did Heather," Rudy said with a sigh. He leaned back against the sofa and stared off into the colored lights, reminiscing. "I guess she's the reason 'Tainted Love' bothers you," Shasta surmised with a wry smile. "You called it. That girl tore my heart out with a plastic shovel. The kind you make sand castles with." "Ouch. She must have been somethin' else." "Oh, she was. Still is, from what I hear. We met at a Kylie Minogue concert. Remember her? 'The Locomotion'? I know, I know. Little Eva did it better. But I greatly admired Kylie's spunk. And she had a cute perm." "Enough about Kylie. Tell me about Heather. I'm always fascinated and bitterly envious when I hear guys go on and on about their One True Love, their Scarsborough Fair Princess, whatever. Give me some green, Rudy." Rudy laughed and took a swig of his drink. "Alright, girlie girl. You asked for it. You aren't going anywhere for awhile, right?" "I'm stuck like Krazy Glue to this sofa." "Okay. So we met at the concert. I was seventeen. She was twenty-three. I was a senior in high school. She had a college degree and a loft in downtown Dallas. But we had one amazing thing in common, besides our taste in music. We were both in love with Peru. She had books on it, I had books on it. How often does that happen? I mean, who cares about Peru? It's a little nothing country in South America. But everything about Peru spoke to us. For my high school graduation Heather gave me a trip to Peru. We were there for two unbelievable weeks. When we came back to Texas, I moved in with her. I can't convey to you in words how much I worshipped this woman. The most mundane things...like the way she wrote grocery lists in alphabetical order and the stuff she kept in the bathroom. She had a yellow basket on the bathroom counter. Filled with multicolored confetti and cheap little dolls and toys. I mean, most girls put bath products and stuff like that in those baskets. But she was...different. She always smelled good, though. She wore Liz Claiborne cologne sometimes but even when she didn't she smelled like freesia and plumeria and citrus groves. And she was very healthy. She was almost a vegetarian, but not quite. She had to have roast beef and bacon Subway sandwiches at least once a week. With Nacho Doritoes. And she collected Wet'N'Wild nail polish. I mean, she had money. She could buy the really good nail polish. But she liked buying lots of bottles of Wet'N'Wild at once because it was so cheap and she loved the colors. Most of the time she didn't even paint her nails. But she liked displaying the nail polish on the windowsill in the kitchen. She didn't have plants or pets. She didn't like flowers that much. She loved balloons. So for her birthday I'd always have a balloon bouquet sent to her office. And her hair. Wow. God, I loved her hair. I could get lost in it. The scent, the texture. The color was always changing. She went blonde once. But I liked it best when it was dark brown. Oh, god. I can't believe they're playing this song." "'Bizarre Love Triangle'? I love this song. They play it all the time." "We danced to it once at a club in Dallas. Back when it wasn't retro. She loved it, too. I must sound pathetic. Just tell me to shutup. Please." "Only shutup if you want to. I'm going to go get another drink." "No, you're not. Chivalry is not dead, at least not in Austin, Texas. I'll get you another drink. Another Pretty in Pink?" "No, thanks. I'd love a Brass Monkey." "Oooh, brave woman. I shall return. Don't go anywhere." Rudy returned with a Brass Monkey for Shasta and a Rolling Rock for himself. "After this, I'd love to dance," Shasta said. "Me, too. Okay, here's to Bizarre Love." Rudy sat down and casually placed his arm around Shasta as he took a swig of beer. Shasta shivered. "Are you cold, babe?" "Oh no you didn't. You just called me 'babe'!" Shasta jumped up, spilling droplets of the drink on Rudy's lap. "What's wrong with 'babe'? You're beautiful and I'm enjoying your company. We're going to dance later. There's chemistry." "We are not going to have sex! We're going to be friends! I'm a guy! You're telling me about a woman you still love! Damn it!" "You have a...a penis?" "No! I mean I might as well be a guy. Think of me as a guy. Not a potential conquest." "I don't think of you as a potential conquest. Sit down. I'm sorry. You're attractive, I slipped." "Thank you. But I prefer beautiful. It sounds more poetic." "You are beautiful. Indeed. But you're also a good listener. This doesn't hurt you at all, does it?" "Only a tiny little bit. But as you were. Please, continue." Shasta sat down and focused on her Brass Monkey. She took a swig and smacked her lips. "Mmmm. Goes down smooth and easy," she murmured. "You're a trip, girl. Tell me your story." "I want more Heather!" "No. No more Heather. I want to hear about your Bruce." "Who the hell is Bruce? His name was Warren. We met last year upstairs. I saw him getting down in a most serious way to 'Disco Inferno.' I watched him all night. About an hour before closing time, I saw him standing against the rail above the dance floor. He was alone. I walked up to him and asked him if he was as good in bed as he was on the dance floor. I was being ironic. You know, it's the Fran Drescher line from 'Saturday Night Fever.' But he took it literally and the rest is history. So yeah, we hooked up and saw each other for about two months. I loved him or thought I did, he didn't love me. He loved his One True Love, his ex-wife who left him for a woman." "You sound so cynical, Shasta." "Maybe it's because I've never had the honor of being the One True Love." "Ouch. I'm surprised. But don't be cynical. It just hasn't happened for you yet. Doesn't mean it won't." "I won't keep my fingers crossed. Okay, I've drained this baby. Let's shake our booties." Rudy followed Shasta up the stairs to the colored light squares disco floor. Above, a disco globe was spinning, working its aloof magic. "YMCA" was playing and everyone was doing the dance. |