Archives:
November 26-December 2, 2006

November 26, 2006

I finish counting my cards and jot down the total on Grandma's stationary pad. “And I finished with 5,040. I'm afraid that's the game.”

Grandma sips from her iced tea, peering across the table at me. “What do I have?”

“A mere 3,775.”

“Ah, that's what I get for letting you keep score.”

I laugh, gathering the cards so I can put them back in their case. “Well, I hate to beat you and run, but like I said, I have to hit the road.”

“I know. Big college man has to get back to bigger and better things.” As I push away from the table, she slowly gets to her feet.

“You don't have to get up.”

She waves a hand at me and slowly gets to her feet. “When are you coming home again?”

“Should be here a few days before Christmas. And I'll be in town for weeks then.”

“So I'll have the chance for my revenge.”

“Ah, I don't know if you'll stand a chance.” I hug her and she tilts her head upward to kiss me on the cheek before I leave, the same way my mother did.

I think about Mom and Avery. From what I can gather, Mom and Grandma talk on the phone more often than I talk to either of them, and I wonder if Grandma knows about the new relationship. Heck, I wonder how new the relationship is at all if they're engaged now.

I suppose if she does know, Grandma's probably wondering how much I know—both of us careful not say too much, and share business that isn't ours to let out. I think about Mom and Avery, and then Dad and Katherine O'Malley, and start to wonder just how many secrets there are in my family, or where all of these secrets came from. I always thought of as being so normal.

I suppose everyone thinks that. I suppose everyone has secrets.

I make my way out of the apartment, then outdoors. It's cold out, but dry. I get in my car and set out on the road.

November 27, 2006

Stepping into the Window office this morning, I find Teri, arms crossed, head down, slumped over her desk. Her long blond hair is cover any part of her face that might have shown, and her shoulders and back rise and fall in a slow rhythm. I walk softly to my desk, setting down my bag, then head across the office to my mailbox.

I turn to her to make sure I'm not being too loud, only to bump into the sports desk chair. Teri's head shoots up at the sound, and she looks all around her, before moving her long blond hair. “Hey Preston ,” she says, her voice a little scratchy. She takes a bottle of water from her side and drinks deeply.

“Hey there. A little tired, are we?”

“It was a long week,” Teri says rubbing her eyes, then beginning to pick up and sort the papers she fell asleep on.

“Huh—most people enjoy the break.”

“Well I guess most people don't have little brothers and sisters who want to get up at 8 every morning and talk to them.”

“Yeah, I suppose I didn't have that problem.” I chuckle. “So how old are they—the kids?”

“My brother's in sixth grade, my sister's in fourth. I keep hoping Joe's gonna hit that age where he wants to sleep past noon , but it just never comes.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Teri waves her hand. “It's okay. I mean, I love the little punks. It's just harder to love them on, like, five hours of sleep.”

“Well, you get three weeks back here.”

“Yeah, three weeks working on The Window while I finish all of my final projects, and get ready for tests.” She puts her head back down. “Tell me, Preston , would offend you horribly if we just didn't have a newspaper for the rest of the semester?”

“Fine by me, as long as I get paid.” We both smile, and I finish walking toward my mailbox, fishing out the sparse press releases that have gathered since the last time I was here.

“Then maybe we can convince Sam.”

I begin to read through mail as I head back to my desk. “Well, just in case, let's see what's new.”

November 28, 2006

Getting back to the suite, I can hear Dave picking at his guitar from his room. I brush off what's left of the snow on my coat, kick off my shoes and head inside.

“What's going on man?”

“Not a whole lot,” he says, looking up but continuing to play. “Just practicing a little.

“Right, because you're not practicing enough with the band.” This is the first time I've seen Dave since before Thanksgiving, and from what the guys tell me, he's been out with the band pretty constantly.

“I'm not sure it's ever going to be enough,” he says, looking away. “It's just, I've putso much time into this. I've gotta get it right.”

“Well don't kill yourself over it,” I say, leaning in the doorframe. It's funny even looking at the room right now—Mike's side is painstakingly neat, while Dave's is in disarray, clothes haphazardly piled on each other in a corner. He's been out with the band enough over the last month that it seems like all he does is sleep, shower and change here in the suite—excluding those nights when he doesn't come home. “You know, it's just your first show, and these guys have been together for years—I'm sure they can help pull you through it.”

Dave shakes his head. “I'm not looking for anyone to pull me through it. I mean, the way you succeed as a performer is to be confident—to have that attitude like you don't give a fuck, and you know that you can't fail. And if you're gonna have that attitude, you've gotta be ready enough so you do know you're not going to fuck things up.”

“But isn't there a part of it that's gotta be fun too? I mean isn't that why you got into this in the first place.”

“I got into this to get laid—more.”

I smirk. “Well besides that.”

“I guess you're right.” He nods. “So hey, I've been thinking I might play that song you caught me singing a while ago—‘Meant To Be.'”

“I thought that was too sentimental, or too pop, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Figure it might be a good change of pace, especially because most of the stuff we're doing is covers. I'm thinking I'll put it in somewhere toward the end of the set—before we rock out to finish.”

“Sounds good, man.”

Dave nods, still picking away. “Yeah, we'll be ready.”

November 29, 2006

“News looks good this week,” Sam says. “You know, relatively speaking.”

“Relative to anything you ever did with section?” I ask.

“Yeah, you're right,” he says, dropping my edits haphazardly on my desk. “After all, I was the guy stupid enough to recruit you.”

“You know,” Teri says, “the way you two bicker, I would think you were flirting.” I turn to make a face at her. She complained about being warm in the office before and took off the Taylor hoodie she usually wears Wednesday nights. She's down to a black tank top. It's funny how, when you're not used to seeing someone a certain way, when you're used to seeing everyone dressed for winter, how a certain outfit can really change the way a person looks—how you can really notice it.

I start in on my edits. “So hey, are you guys free after the meeting tomorrow night?”

“You trying to ask me out, Presto?” Sam says.

“Very funny.”

“Nothing after we do dinner,” Teri answers my question. “What do you have in mind?”

“My suitemate Dave and his band are playing at The Hammerhead. I told him I'd try to get some more people to come.”

“The Hammerhead?” Sam asks. “The place is like a playground there's so many kids running around.”

Teri rolls her eyes. “Well it's been a long time since I caught a show there. I think it'd be fun.”

“I didn't say it wouldn't be fun,” Sam says. “Just saying it's freshmen city.”

“Well, they've gotta have their first show somewhere,” I say. “And it sounds like they're gonna be pretty good. So you guys in?”

Sam shrugs. “We'll see if I can get drunk enough beforehand that I won't mind being seen there.”

“I'll be there,” Teri says, giving Sam a look before she turns back to me, “and thanks for asking.”

November 30, 2006

“This crowd is insane,” Teri says, near shouting to make herself heard.

“Yeah, for real,” I agree. The place is packed. Mike, Chang and Claire are here too, and I think I recognize a few of Dave's friends from last year around the bar.

And I wonder how Dave's going to respond to this crowd—if he'll rise to the occasion, or if it will give him stage fright. I remember what he said about the importance of confidence, and how he felt he had to be ready to act like a rock star.

“Let me take your coat,” Teri says. It is pretty hot in here, and when I turn to her, she's in a black spaghetti strap top, and she's looking really good. I think about saying something, but just smile and hand off my coat.

Mike returns from the bar with bottles for each of us. In the sea of people, there are plenty without the neon bracelets people of age got at the door, still enjoying their drinks. And so, I go ahead and take a bottle, as we make our way toward the stage.

Before long, the band is there—first big Lenny at the drums. Then Nick takes his place up front, wagging his tongue as the crowd cheers, and Bud follows after him to less of a reaction. Dave comes out last, smiling, but I can tell he's nervous. He runs a hand over his stubble looking out at the crowd. In a plain blue t-shirt and jeans, he somehow looks smaller than usual.

Dave leans his ear downward, plucking strings and fiddling with the pegs, while Nick waves his hands up and down, working the crowd into a frenzy.

“Hey everybody, we're The Axis,” Dave says, a little subdued. He gets some cheers, but less than Nick earned just moments before. He looks out in the crowd and his lips curl, his mouth opening up into a real smile. “I said, we're The fucking Axis! Let's go!”

Dave launches into a guitar solo, bobbing his head with the music. After a few seconds, there's silence, then Lenny wails on the drums. Nick picks up his guitar part from there as the band jams into the start of ACDC's “You Shook Me All Night Long.”

Dave sings, not trying to imitate the original vocals, but finding his own, more raspy style. Half the crowd sings along as he hits the chorus, while others only roar their approval, dancing around the stage. Teri jumps up and down, tossing her hair from side to side. Claire dances, her back against Chang's chest, while Mike points to the stage, bobbing his hand up and down, high above his head.

The crowd is on its feet, clapping, screaming at song's end. Dave doesn't even acknowledge them, looking down as Lenny launches into the next song, this time with a military beat. Soon enough, The Axis is playing Creedence Clearwater Revival's “Fortunate Son,” as I recognize Dave making his political statement through the group. The message may be lost on half the crowd, who only recognize just how good the band is.

The band gets into newer songs, mixing in some originals, staying upbeat. After 45 minutes of rock show, Dave's soaked in sweat. He takes a long drink from his bottle of water, as the crowd continues to clap. At this point, I think they'd applaud him just for breathing. “I'm gonna play a little ditty on my own right now. It's called ‘Meant To Be.'”

The bar falls silent as Dave works his way into the same quiet, acoustic number I heard him playing in the suite weeks ago. It's a pretty song, and throughout the crowd, couples start to dance, slower than they had before.

Teri runs a hand through her hair and begins to move her hips, brushing against me. At first I think it's a mistake, and take a step back. Slowly, she works her way right back against me, her eyes fixed on the stage. Her arms glow faintly with sweat—everyone's sweating. I slide a hand onto her waist.

I'd sit you down,
read your hands
tell your future
make you understand.
Show you some things in this life
were meant to be.

Dave lets the final chord ring in the air and the crowd cheers just as loud, if not louder than they did for any rock song.

The Axis plays one more song, an upbeat original Dave told me about, that the band has always used to close each show. Teri stays near, dancing and jumping again. I let myself go a little more dancing right along with her.

We keep our eyes with everyone else's, up on the stage. Up on stage, Dave is exactly the rock star he wanted to be.

December 1, 2006

I stumble down the street, feeling pretty phenomenal. It's just past 4 a.m. , and I'm drunk and exhausted, but everything is good.

After The Axis played, Mike left, while the rest of us hung around the bar, throwing back beer after beer. Chang and Claire disappeared. Teri ran into some friends and left with them, hugging me before she left. I held her a little longer than I meant to, but she only smiled when we parted ways.

Afterward, I went along with the band back to Nick's place, where drank some more, a little party developing there from the larger one at the bar. Dave and I got talking with this little girl with short hair and glasses. Before long, I could tell they were getting into something, and that I was only standing in the way, so I let them be.

And now it's 4 a.m. Dave and the girl have disappeared, and it's long past time for me to turn in.

It feels strangely warm out, though I can see my breath, and there's still snow and ice all over the ground. There's no one around, and I arbitrarily decide to run for half a block before slowing back to a walk, out of breath, laughing at myself.

And then I see a guy walking toward me. At first he's just a shadow in the distance. But he grows larger, clearer. “Hey buddy,” I say with a nod.

“Are you Preston ?” he asks, a Latino guy with real short hair and a goatee.

“Yeah.” I smile. “Do I know you?”

He reels his hand back. For a split second, I can see his forearm, with a tattoo of a blue dragon. The next thing I know, his fist is coming at me. It feels like the left side of my face implodes with the impact if his punch, and an instant later, my back slams against the sidewalk.

The man with the blue dragon tattoo leans over me, and his fist comes down again. I can't open my left eye now, and my whole face hurts. I try to cover it, but then feel him kicking at my ribs. I cough and try to roll over, but then he's kicking my back, before throwing down fists and elbows as I gasp, begging for him to stop. He doesn't say a word, and all I can hear is him pounding against my body, as he breathes more and more heavily.

And then he's gone. Slowly, I open my right eye, to find myself alone. I close my eye. Everything goes black.

December 2, 2006

A blue dragon hangs above us, all lit-up and neon from it's angry face to the veins that line its wings.

The dragon is strangely out of place in this ballroom, and I'm the only who seems to notice it. All around me, people whirl past, laughing haughtily, talking about the stock exchange, and nibbling cheese and crackers or little cocktail shrimp. Clad in my jet black tuxedo, I fit in by appearance, but something's a little off. And then I see her.

Peering across the marble floor, I spy Emma. She wearing a long red dress, giggling as she tells a story to a group of men gathered around her. I implicitly know that they all want to be with her. Every man does. But I was supposed to find her tonight. There's something I was supposed to tell her, or give her, or do with her. I can't remember.

I make my way toward her, but another man joins Emma's circle, blocking my view of her. I change my path, trying to peer around this man, so I can see her. But just then, the lights dim. Looking up, the blue dragon grows somehow darker.

I remember something else. I'm being chased.

I see two men coming from the other end of the ballroom. One is the Latino guy, who I can just now recalling having hit me before. I don't remember what happened after that. But he's coming for me again. I try to change my direction again, but spy two more men coming from another corner. I split through the crowd, now, breaking into a run. The ballroom is larger than I originally thought, and I seem to run impossibly far to still be inside. I don't dare look behind me.

I feel arms close around me and pull me aside, into the shadows. At first I struggle, then a hand falls over my mouth. I turn. It's Veronica. She's wearing a stunning black gown, with long white gloves. “It's OK,” she whispers, “come with me.”

She knows the way out. We disappear into a hallway.