Love Song

Meg sat with her chin resting heavily on her hand. She drummed her fingers on the table as Lydia flirted with a random stranger. Lydia leaned forward towards the boy with the stringy hair and black fingernails, her hand resting lightly on his forearm.
Meg sucked at her shake to no avail; the chocolate ice cream was still to think. She scowled at the ceiling.
Meg’s eyes drifted out to the people bustling through the dark street. She caught a woman in a trench coat almost run as she clutched her purse to her chest. Then, a man with his arm around a young girl, eighteen or nineteen. He groped her shoulder as they walked.
Then, directly in front of her, an arched eyebrow and a mischievous half smile.
Meg jumped back with shake in hand, spilling over half of the icy mess directly on her skirt. She gasped and looked back up with a curse one her lips to see long, wavy black hair tied back in a ponytail bustling away from her. With a laugh, Lydia was at her side dabbing at the shake with a handful of napkins.
Lydia’s boy was standing apart, smiling tightly at Meg. Meg knew that smile, if only for its frequency in her life. The men and women in Lydia’s life were always thrust aside at the mere suggestion of Meg’s need.
Meg blushed as Lydia dabbed at her lap. Lydia’s guffaws became infectious as Meg thought about the situation. Meg grabbed some more napkins out of the spotted chrome dispenser and helped as she shook with glee.
“It was just some goofy looking guy outside. I saw him and let him startle me, and this is what happened.”
“See, Charlie, I can’t leaver her alone any where. She’s always getting into trouble.”
The man stared at the wall as he nodded.
Meg looked down at the brown stain that marred the once blue, silky fabric. She ran her fingers over the damp spot as Lydia wadded up the brown, chocolaty napkins and ran to the garbage can. As Lydia walked back, Meg sighed.
“I just can’t keep nice things.”
Lydia grabbed Meg’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “It looks fantastic. Really.” Lydia smiled and picked up Meg’s glass. “In fact, I think I need to fix my own clothes. I mean, it’s the best in fashion right now.
As Meg laughed, Lydia poured the rest of the shake onto her jeans. Meg’s eyes stung, and her mouth felt like it was going to go numb. She started to double over as Lydia patted the worst of the ice cream chunks off of her pants.
“You girls are crazy.” Charlie shook his head as he stared at them and their laughing fits.
“Why thank you sir. I believe me and my gal are done here. We have a show to spectate at.” Lydia pumped his hand up and down and beamed at Charlie. “It was nice meeting you.”
“It was great meeting you.” Charlie’s face brightened. “If you ever want to do anything, I mean, here’s my number.”
Meg’s eyes skimmed over the dinner as Charlie wrote his number on a scrap of receipt he fished out of his pocket. Everyone seemed drab compared to her and Meg.
Meg’s hair was tied up with an orange scarf, and she was wearing an orange spaghetti strapped tank top with seed beads marching up and down the fabric in precise lines over her sky blue skirt. They’d even found white platform shoes and colored them orange with markers.
Lydia was wearing a shirt she’d made herself, with two stick figured women holding hands. Her jeans were splattered with paint and full of holes. Her shoes were trendy suede sneakers with pink lining; not many people would have guessed Lydia had purchased them for 25 cents at a thrift store.
They both were wearing sherbert colored socks that traveled up to their thighs.
Lydia grabbed the paper that was offered and they were out the door. They walked arm in arm through the light offered by the long row of streetlamps leading to the club. As soon as they were out of sight of the diner, Lydia released the paper and watched it drift towards the ground for a moment on a small gust of wind.

The crowd seemed massive outside the club’s doors, even though the room available for the concert only fit 500. Meg and Lydia each held their own ticket. They had been hand-delivered by one of the band members a few weeks earlier, a gift to Lydia for some art she drew for the band’s CD cover.
Meg was suddenly excited. She found herself bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet. She was close behind Lydia; she saw herself as a buffer between the crowd and her friend.
Meg had a hard time focusing on what to watch; everyone was so interesting. There were indie chicks, punks, goth kids, emo boys and girls. It seems like all kinds were attracted to Frankel’s Schnitzel. The music was a mix of everything and yet nothing. While Lydia worked on the art, the music she was illustrating played on an endless loop on her computer. It was all synthesized noise, a violin, and a piano. The words to the songs dealed with robots and killer bunny cyborgs. Even Meg paid attention when Schnitzel was on, and she had a hard time listening to her own favorite music.
As Meg scanned the crowd, she had the impression she was catching a wavy ponytail out of the corner of her eye. Every time she tried to look for it in earnest, she couldn’t find it. The crowd was like a breathing organism; the parts heaved back and forth, impatient for the double doors to open.
Lydia was staring at the doors, a bored expression on her face. A boy from the crowd recognized her and was talking at her, but Lydia remained uninterested. She was no longer in the mood to pretend. Meg felt sorry for the boy, a fan, meeting someone he viewed as important for the first time. Lydia didn’t see herself as famous and tended to ignore random fans when they accosted her on the street.
When the doors finally opened, Lydia gave the boy a generic goodbye and the girls pressed themselves against the girls in front of them to gain as much ground as they could.
The club was nondescript on the outside and seedy on the inside. Old love seats and leather sofas lined the walls; many were broken and seemed to eat the patrons who made the mistake on plopping down on them. Red lights created a semi-horrific atmosphere that made Meg and Lydia feel at home.
With an extra flash of their tickets, they were through another set of doors and in the blue room. Faux smoke tickled their throats as they rode the wave of people to the front of the room. They squeezed through bodies until they were right in front of the stage. Meg called it Lydia’s luck. When Lydia was around, Meg was the luckiest girl in the world.
“This is fantastic,” Lydia yelled over the din of voices that surrounded them.
“It really is,” Meg replied.
Meg smiled as she saw the backdrop for the band: a screen print of Lydia’s cover art, with the telltale LJ in the corner. She almost felt her chest puff out as she looked at it.
As Meg viewed the cramped, grungy stage, she felt someone jostle her to her left. She looked over her shoulder to see baggy, frayed jeans that fit loosely over a chubby backside and a white shirt that was topped by a wavy, wavy ponytail. She grinned and patted Lydia’s arm as she tapped the boy from the window on the shoulder.
A nerdy boy with glasses turned around. Frizzy hair framed his glasses and acne-marked face. Thick, cracked, pouty lips greeted her. One of the boys eyebrows lifted in a high arch.
“Do you need to get by?” The boy gestured for Meg and Lydia to pass him.
Meg laughed. “No, you made me spill my drink on me earlier.” Meg pointed to the brown splotch the covered her skirt.
The boy lips stretched across his face. “I made you? Sweetie, I’ve never met you before. Therefore I’ve never made you do anything.”
“What’s going on, Clay?” A voice sounded from behind the boy. A stern face rose up over his shoulder and glared at Meg.
“This cute girl is blaming me for something. I don’t mind; she seems sweet in an abrasive and rude sort of way.”
Meg’s cheeks grew hot and the hair stood up on the back of her neck.
“Excuse me? Rude and abrasive? I saw you in the window while I was eating and spilled a chocolate milkshake on myself. You were, like, six inches away from my face.”
“Sweetie, that’s hardly my fault.” Clay talked quickly and began to stumble over his words. “Maybe you should have had a better grip on it. You can’t really blame me for something you did to yourself. I mean, I don’t even really remember seeing you. You could be anyone. Although, you are amusing.”
Meg opened her mouth to reply, but Lydia grabbed her hand and started to pull her away.
“He’s just some jackass,” Lydia stated. “Come on. Let’s move to the other side of the stage.”
“You can’t just pull someone away when they’re in the middle of a conversation. It’s rude.”
Meg didn’t look back as Lydia led her away.

Lydia and Meg bounced up and down to the strange beats during the show. The band changed tempo so often that they often dissolved into giggles as they tried to get back on beat. Then, during their last song, Lydia was pulled onstage by Dave, the singer of the group. She was introduced as his muse, and disappeared with the band when they left the stage. Meg gritted her teeth and stayed in the blue room for almost a half hour after the room cleared out. A large security guard had to shoo her out so he could lock the doors.
Meg circled the red room as people danced around her to a strong industrial beat. They seemed to move against the music, lost in their own heads.
After a time, she found and empty sofa and took over the whole thing. She sat with her giant shoes up in the air on the arm and her butt folded into the center. It felt like the padding and springs were missing in that spot. A wooden beam pressed into her backbone.
Meg’s belly also folded into itself uncomfortably. She could feel the rolls overlapping. She nodded her head to the music as she watched the dancers; it was still better than taxing her feet through wandering around the club.
It was a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye that made her notice Clay standing to the side of her head. She set her jaw and let her squinting eyes and thin lips tell him how she felt.
“Can I sit down?” Clay bent down to ask her. She could feel his warm breath tickle against her ear.
“I guess.” Meg felt a small thrill as she moved her feet back to the floor and moved to the side. He sat down hard next to her, right on the beam. Meg felt the sides of her lips turn up in mischief.
“You are really cute,” Clay said in her ear. She could barely hear him over the din, but her smile widened.
“Sure. You just don’t want me to be mad at you. Whatever.”
“Actually, I could care less if you’re mad at me. While I’d prefer you not to be, I’m right. I didn’t make you spill anything on yourself. That was all you, hun.”
Meg hit him lightly in the arm with a loose fist. “It was you. I was just minding my own business. You’re the one who was peering in on me. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Peering in on you? Barely. Sweetie, I was just trying to read the price sign. It must have been over your head. I was definitely not peering in at you. Not that you’re not cute, you’re adorable. But, maybe you have too much of an ego.”
Meg bristled. “An ego? Okay, maybe you weren’t really looking at me, but that doesn’t get rid of the stain on my skirt. I’ve looked like a fool for hours.”
“A fool? Barely. You take things a little too seriously, too.” Clay flashed all of his teeth at Meg in a big grin, but they looked orange in the red light. “Do you really think anyone’s noticed your skirt? Well, maybe from the back. But, they’ve been too busy looking at your shiny hair, your sparkling eyes, your luscious lips.” His voice lowered as he leaned forward. “While I didn’t quite notice you when you were in that restaurant, I did notice you at the concert. Can I claim you? Really, it would be my pleasure.”
“Claim me?” Meg chuckled, but she didn’t stand up. Instead, she looked closer at Clay. She noticed how full his lips were and the little pouf that was growing on his chin. His face was marked a little with little red scars but nothing severe. He had a crooked tooth that looked out of place in his mouth. “I don’t know you. Of course you can’t claim me. It’s a little fast, don’t you think?”
“A little fast?” Clay’s mouth grew even wider, and his words began to stumble on themselves. “It’s not really that fast. You’ve got a dirty mind. I didn’t mean anything sexual by it. I just wanted to be able to go up to anyone who happens to see you and takes a liking and tell them you’re mine. Even if it’s just for the night. Maybe snuggle up close for a little while and enjoy your company.”
Meg felt herself blush. She looked at the floor in front of her, the legs dancing, up at the lights, anything to keep her eyes from Clay’s mischevous gaze. She was saved by the sound of Lydia’s voice cutting through the music.
“Leave her alone, ass.” Lydia was standing in front of Clay with her hands on her hips. She was imposing even at a few inches taller than five feet. “I thought we got rid of you hours ago.” Then to Meg, “I’m sorry I left you for so long. I was working on some ideas for their next album cover. Let’s go home.” Lydia pulled Meg to her feet.
“Wait.” The word was out of Meg’s mouth before she could think of what she was doing. She stared at Clay with wide eyes. “Do you want to follow us home? Or, I mean, do you want to come home with me?”
Lydia glared at Meg and Clay. Then she laughed. For once, Meg didn’t join in.
“Well, I didn’t drive here. I came with my friends.” Clay looked over his shoulder into the bustling club. We were going to do some stuff in a little while.”
Meg nodded her head, her head down to cover her disappointment.
Clay reached out and took her hand. “You know what? It was nothing important. I’d be happy to come home with you. I’ll just need a ride home tomorrow.”
Lydia laughed. “You can take the bus, loser.” She smiled a tight smile Meg had never seen on her face before.
“Okay.” Clay shrugged. “It won’t be the first time.”
Meg felt her heart beat off-tempo in her chest. She felt lightheaded.
“You mean you’d actually ride home on the bus for me? You don’t even know where I live.”
“Sure, why not? You’re really cute, and you seem really nice. I’m pretty sure you’re not going to rape me or murder me and munch on my body.”
“I’m not sure about the murdering part.” Meg felt the muscles in her face ache with the force of her smile. “But I can give you a ride home.”
In a surge of spontaneity, Meg looped her arm through Clay’s and pressed close against his side. She could smell Oldspice and a musky, damp smell coming from his neck. She let her head rest against his shoulder as they followed Lydia through the club and to her car.