Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
Tried to post this once already but ended up with a page cannot be displayed message followed immediately by a server to busy 
So, if it double posts again, It's not my fault
Disclaimer: Not real. Fiction. Fantasy. The further along the series gets, the further it gets from reality
Should not be considered in any way a true representation on any of the people mentioned within
Part 4: the thieves den
The stage was cleared, the arena nearly empty. The silence was deafening. Less than two hours ago the place had been filled with people. People singing, dancing, cheering. It was a rush unlike any other. And it was over. Cat often felt like this after a big show; a sort-of post-partum depression syndrome for spotlight junkies. The feeling of ‘coming down’. She could still feel the buzz of adrenaline in her veins, feel the warmth of the spotlight on her face.
It was quiet outside, now, too. Had been since security had sent out a decoy limo to make the fans waiting think that ‘U2 had left the building’. Not their style, but this wasn’t a usual show. The excitement of the surprise had people acting crazy. Maybe it was the full moon, Cat thought. Her grandmother always said the full moon brought out the crazy in people.
“You can almost hear the echoes, still, can’t you?” She heard Bono ask as he walked up behind her. She smiled at the way his voice actually wrapped around her like warm silk.
“Yeah. Almost.” She agreed with a sad smile. “I’d have thought you’d be pretty jaded about things like this by now.” She told him, casting a sideways glance at the man to see that he’d showered and changed in the dressing room. His hair was still damp, drying lightly and falling around his handsome face. It looked better without all the goop in it, she thought.
“No, no… I’ll never stop loving the feeling of being on stage with people surrounding me on every side. Creating something beautiful, something new every single time because, ah, well, you know each crowd has it’s own… what have you, it’s own… ‘energy’.” He told her, his eyes sparkling with the intensity the man’s fans had come to know and love him for.
“So are you guys off to your hotel? Or are you flying right out?” Cat asked, sighing and stretching her arms out above her head, the fingers entwined with the opposite hand.
“Thought we might hit Beale.” He told her, referring to the big party street in Memphis, the place with several blocks of unique stores, restaurants and clubs, to which countless people flocked every year. It was the crossroads of music, the birthplace of Rock and Roll, the home of the blues. It’s neon lights and open-all-night bars called out to the heart and soul of anyone in search of a good time.
“Mmmm. BB King’s?” She asked and he nodded and smiled. “Well, you guys have fun hanging out with the tourists.” She told him playfully, turning to walk away.
“Why, what are you doing?” He asked, falling into pace with her.
“Nothing much. Some of our friends are throwing a little after party for us. It’s nothing fancy.” She told him with a careless shrug. As they reached the garage, they saw the others waiting. Adam, Larry and Edge were talking to the men from Tequila monster, standing near the rented Ford Mustang. It wasn’t their first choice, but it would do on short notice.
“Nothing you guys would want to go to, anyway. I’m sure you’re used to a lot more extravagant celebrations. Being ‘living rock legends’ as you are.” She said, making air quote with her fingers and rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, we’re so refined.” Adam said sarcastically, joining in on the conversation.
“Well, anyway. We’re headed south of town, across the border into Mississippi. Just a friendly little get together. You can come, if you’d like.” She said, acting so cool it almost seemed as if she didn’t want them to come at all. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, the idea of partying with U2 would almost counterweight the sad news they’d gotten from Gunnar.
“To get there you’re going to take 55 south out of the city. If you’ve hit Nesbit, you’ve gone too far.” She told them, as her fellow band members were loading into their Jeep. She moved off to the other side of the Mustang and straddled her motorcycle. Larry’s eyes lit up with interest.
“The boys have some errands to run or I’d tell you to just follow them.” She continued. She smiled when she saw Larry eyeing her ride.
“She’s got the shape of a street bike but the soul of a Harley.” She told him, starting the engine and giving the throttle a twist. Most sportsbikes sounded more like wind up toys, but this one did indeed have the roar of a Harley.
“SV-1000. Naked sides, v-twin engine. It’s not stock, though.” He asked, moving forward to examine the bike more closely.
“Oh, here we go.” Edge said playfully rolling his eyes. Each of them had at least one obsession or habit which the others recognized immediately. Larry’s was motorcycles; usually he stayed focused on Harley Davidson, but it wasn’t completely exclusive.
“I’ve had a few post-production modifications done.” She told him coyly.
“Tell him what you named it.” Alex called out from where he was sitting in the jeep.
“I call her Noisy Bitch.” She told him with a smirk.
“You know you love something when you name it after yourself.” Gunnar quipped, earning a ripple of laughter. Cat tried to look irritated, but lost the fight to hide her smile.
“Why don’t we just follow you?” Bono asked, pulling the conversation back on track. Cat smiled wickedly as she slid her helmet on, lifting the visor.
“Well, you can, if you think you can keep up.” She told him playfully. Bono and Larry turned and looked at each other intensely for a moment before Bono made a break for the drivers seat. Larry’s long legs allowed him to catch up easily enough, and he snatched the keys out of Adam’s extended hand as he slid behind the wheel.
“Fecker!” Bono shot at his mate, slapping a hand down on the hood of the car in frustration. Larry bestowed upon those in his company one of his rare, broad-faced grins. It was probably a good thing he didn’t smile like that all the time, Catalina thought, or no one around the man would ever get a damned thing accomplished. It was enchanting in a completely innocent and unassuming way. She could tell that he would absolutely hate being told this, though. He wasn’t the type who wanted compliments on his good looks. He’d gotten tired of them long ago, though it seemed he was only getting better looking with age.
Bono hurried around to claim the front passenger seat, which neither Adam nor Edge particularly wanted anyway. They climbed into the back seat casually, irritating Bono who was urging them to hurry.
Cat revved the engine once more, holding tight to the brake and spinning her wheels to heat the tires, like any good race driver knew to do.
“Ready, boys?” She asked, and Larry turned the key, the engine roaring to life on the Mustang. She smiled and flipped the visor down on her helmet, completely concealing her face. In less than a breath, she was off. Larry muttered some sort of expletive under his breath and pressed hard on the accelerator, the car lurching forward as he gave chase.
She was around every corner at breakneck speeds, getting entire blocks ahead of them before stopping for a red light or sign. At the final light before the freeway on ramp, they were side by side waiting for the green. She revved her engine and waved ‘bye-bye’ as the light turned. Once they were on the open interstate, she was nigh impossible to catch. Adam and Edge belted themselves into the back seat as they watched the speedometer needle swing upward until it was buried at the top end.
“Jayzus, I shoulda let Bono drive.” Adam joked when Larry swerved into the right lane to pass an annoyingly slow SUV. He then slipped between the SUV and the pickup truck it had been starting to pass, back into the left lane.
“Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear.” Edge replied with a grin.
“You’re gonna lose her.” Bono told Larry, who scowled and tossed his mate a sideward glance of warning. One side of his mouth twitched upwards in a smile, and he was about to make a smart comment when Cat suddenly changed course and veered off the freeway with little warning.
“Shiiiiit!” Larry exclaimed as he pressed the brake and swung the wheel to the right, a horn blaring behind them as a truck narrowly avoiding slamming into their rear bumper. “Everybody ok?” He asked a bit sheepishly, glancing in the rear view mirror at Edge and Adam.
“Oh, yeah we’re just fine, fine. Absolutely. I think Edge needs a new pair of trousers, but other than that…” Adam quipped.
“Yer the one holdin’ onto the door like you’re ready to dive out.” Edge joked, the men all laughing a bit crazily with relief after the fright Larry’s stunt driving had put into them. After a moment, the laughter died down and the car was silent.
“Bono?” Adam asked from the back seat.
“Yeah?”
“Just making sure you were alive.” He said, and Bono turned and arched a brow at his mate. “You hadn’t talked in so long I thought maybe Larry’s trick driving had broken you or something.” Adam teased as Larry pulled the car to a stop alongside Cat’s bike. Bono scowled and made a rude hand gesture at his friend before climbing out of the car.
“Fancy driving back there, slick.” Cat said, her hair falling loose around her shoulders as she took her helmet off. She tilted her head to one side and then the other, the vertebrae in her neck making a soft popping noise. Larry’s mouth twitched up sideways at her.
“It’s no great shakes, but welcome to my house.” She told them, gesturing to the small square structure with peeling green paint and an oil stained car-port. Light poured out from every window, accompanied by the sounds of music and chatter, and the smell of some sort of BBQ on the grill.
“This is your place? I thought you said it was a friends?” Bono asked, eyeing the shabby little house more carefully now.
“My place. Friends organized the party part, set it all up for me. C’mon in.” She informed them, hanging her helmet over one handle before making her way in through a sliding glass door. The ‘black-eyed peas’ thumped out of the stereo speakers, the kitchen windows rattling with the heavy bass. A cheer went up amongst the party guests and Cat was overtaken by people wanting to congratulate her. Most of them had not yet heard the news about Gunnar.
After several hugs, and pats on the back Cat pulled herself away from the crowd and gestured for the men to follow her out a back door. There were several coolers setting nearby in the back yard as well as two kiddy pools full of ice, all holding bottles and cans of various drinks.
“Help yourselves.” She told them as she swung the lid up on one of the coolers and chose a hard lemonade. She twisted the cap off and took a long pull off the bottle as the men looked around to see what there was to drink.
“God bless ya, girl, I was starting to fear you didn’t have any of the black stuff.” Bono told her as he found the Guinness stashed in the far cooler. He quickly handed one to Larry and then to Edge. Adam found some bottled water in one of the kiddy pools. Cat smiled at Bono knowingly.
“And I was afraid no one would drink it.” She teased.
“Trust me, you won’t have that problem.” He assured her, walking around to where she had seated herself atop a wooden picnic table, her feet resting on the bench seat.
“So what do you think of the place?” She asked when she noticed the way he was looking about, taking in details of the house and the yard. “I mean, it’s not exactly Graceland, but it’s home.” She told him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Before Bono could reply, however, a rowdy group of people spilled out the back door, demanding her attention. In fact, for the better part of the night, every time she tried to visit with one of them, someone or something would pull her away.
Around two a.m., things began to quiet down slightly, and she had a chance to look around the place in search of her special guests. Bono was still in the backyard, near a pile of empties. There was a large group of people around him, listening to him talk animatedly.
Larry and Edge were inside the house, seated on the sofa with a smaller group which included the boys from tequila monster. Larry had a set of bongos (Cat couldn’t help but wonder just where someone would have found a set of bongos in her house) and Edge had her old acoustic guitar, the one which had been a gift from her uncle when she was 12. He was busy replacing the strings, which, Cat thought, might have been nearly as old as she was.
“So can I ask you something?” Edge was saying to Gunnar as he worked.
“Sure.” Gunnar told him, slumping down into the chair next to him, his body so relaxed it seemed almost impossible he had a solid spine and could still sit like that.
“Do you believe in God?” Edge asked, his fingers still working expertly to pull the wire tight, slip it through the tuning machines. Gunnar raised his right hand as if he were being sworn in to court.
“I believe in God the father almighty, creator of Heaven and earth..” he started reciting the apostles creed. Edge smiled and looked up at the young man for the first time.
“Well, that tells me someone made you go to church, but it doesn’t mean you really believe.”
“I believe that God is a kid with an ant colony. He gives us the basics; food, water, the raw materials for a home. Then he sits back as we dig tunnels and build our world. Sometimes he watches, sometimes he goes off and does other things. Every once in awhile, he gets really bored, picks the world up and shakes it hard. He shakes everything up, sits back and watches while we start all over again.” Gunnar told him, and Edge felt he was beginning to understand that sadness in the man’s smile.
“Hmmm.” He murmured in response, scratching the whiskers on his chin.
“Hmmm… what?” Gunnar asked.
“It’s just a sad thing, to live life feeling that way.” Edge told him, catching Gunnar off guard. He had been prepared to fend off overt attempts to convert him, to ‘save his soul’. This simple, dispassionate response was completely unexpected. As he stared at the man, pondering his best course of action, Cat wandered away. This was not a conversation she was in the mood for. The others could have deep and meaningful conversations tonight if they wanted too. She needed to let go of the heaviness in her heart.
She wandered into the quiet front yard to find Adam seated on the porch swing, the rusty chains creaking as he swayed back and forth.
“Hiding out?” She asked, leaning against the corner of the house. A bottle dangled between the fingers of one hand, her other hand resting on her hip. She hadn’t bothered to braid her hair again, just washed and brushed it quickly after the show. It hung loosely around her face and shoulders, the blonde highlights golden in the moonlight. She sauntered over to sit down beside him, and he could already tell she was drunk from the sway in her walk.
“No, not at all.” He replied with a smile. “Just enjoying the weather.”
“Mmmm… it is nice out, isn’t it? Late spring is my favorite time of the year, I think. It hasn’t gotten humid yet, but it’s nice and warm. I hate it when it’s cold enough that I have to wear socks.” She told him, pulling her long legs up underneath her and sitting sideways to face him. He pushed the swing back and forth lazily with the slightest movement of his long legs.
“I’ve always said I think a man shouldn’t be forced to wear pants when it isn’t cold.” He told her. She smiled broadly at the rather interesting philosophy, tilted her head to one side, and sighed contentedly. Adam smiled back at her.
“Yer absolutely bolloxed, aren’t you?” He asked, and her eyebrows pulled together in a frown.
“I’m what?” She asked, and he chuckled. It was a low, throaty sound which resonated through her belly and spread out in every direction through her whole body.
“Bolloxed. Buckled, Fluthered, Gee-Eyed, in the numbs. Shlossed.” He told her, seeing the change in her face as soon as she recognized what he was saying.
“Oh, drunk!” She said, careful to pronounce her words properly and in the effort to do so, over-pronouncing things and dragging them out too much. “No, I’m not.” She said and he laughed at her again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m not!” she insisted, swinging out and lightly hitting him on the chest with the palm of her hand.
“No?” He asked.
“No!” she told him, trying to keep a straight face. The longer he silently stared into her eyes, however, the harder she fund it to not giggle. Finally she broke out into a grin and told him, “I prefer the term schnookered.” Her laughter was a bit over-boisterous at her own joke, and he decided she was even worse off than he’d first suspected.
“Schnookered.” He repeated the term and she nodded, still grinning.
“Yep. Or Shit-faced. Wasted. Plastered. Three sheets to the wind! ” she exclaimed, her alcohol dulled mind on a roll now. Adam closed his eyes, his head tilting back as he laughed.
When he opened them again, he saw that she was staring at him. He didn’t have to ask what she was thinking, now that the alcohol had taken down all of her defenses she was completely transparent. He wasn’t a stranger to the look she was giving him as she leaned toward him, her eyes clouded with desire.
He cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably, shifting his lower jaw as he pursed his lips together. Anything to buy him a moment to think his way through the situation he realized he was in. He knew that women, when they’d been drinking, tended to get over-emotional. If they came on to a man and he took them up on their offer he was taking advantage of them. If he rejected her, he was subjected to either a series of foul names and perhaps even a physical assault, or she would begin bawling. There was no ‘right’ way out of it. All he could do was change the subject and hope to distract her.
“So, Cat. What’s that short for, Catherine?” He asked, shifting in the seat so that he was backed into the corner of the swing, his long legs keeping some distance between himself and Cat.
“Catalina.” She told him.
“Ca’alina.” He repeated and she grinned. He had the most beautiful accent; it was a beautiful mix of Dublin Irish and Oxfordshire English.
“Say it again.” She urged, and he laughed.
“Ca’alina.” He said once more, and she thrilled at the sound of that beautiful accent wrapped around her name. For being so drunk, she moved quickly, Adam realized. She leaned in, her body angling across his lap.
“Say my name again.” She whispered, her face so close to his he felt her eyelashes brush against his temple when she blinked.
“Uhh….” He said, taking her by the shoulders and scooting her back over to her side of the swing and then rising to his feet in one fluid motion. “Excuse me.” He said her briskly but politely.
“What…?” She asked, her mind reeling at this sudden change of direction. She scowled at the door behind which he had disappeared, fleeing as if she were the devil himself. She stood and found her feet, which took an extra moment or two. She stumbled around the corner of the house, feeling like a cartoon character with a little black cloud hanging over her head.
As soon as she’d rounded the corner, she slammed into something solid. Something warm and solid. Something with a broad chest and shoulders, and strong arms. Something in a loose fitting silk shirt, which smelled like cologne and pheromones. Something which staggered sideways when she hit it and muttered ‘shite’ as it tried to find it’s feet again.
“Sorry!” She exclaimed, reaching out instinctively, although whether the intention of this was to aid the man whom she had knocked off balance or to steady herself was unclear. With one hand, he braced himself against the wall and with the other her managed to grab hold of her shoulder. Somehow, they managed to stay upright. Before either of them had spoken a word, they burst out into drunken laughter, clinging to one another.
“You ok?” Bono asked, peering down at her with a broad, easy grin.
“Yeah, you?” she asked, amusement still clear in her voice.
“Fine, thanks. A bit drunk, but just fine all the same.” He told her, his words slurring together into a nearly incoherent jumble. She snickered, then clamped a hand over her mouth to try and repress the laughter. She happened to glance down and notice the button on his pants gapping open, the zipper only halfway up.
“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, and he followed her gaze.
“Nope, just got done having a piss in the bushes. Didn’t think I would make it to the toilet.” He informed her and she burst out laughing once more.
“I’m not quite so pissed that I was disrobing just for the fun of it.” He said as he completed the unfinished task of zipping and buttoning his trousers. “Disappointed?” he asked playfully. She couldn’t respond, couldn’t even catch a breath she was laughing so hard.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Adam’s the resident exhibitionist.” He told her as they began to make their way back to the party, their arms draped around one another lest they should fall down. She sighed dramatically, and he felt her shoulders slump.
“Adam.” She grumbled, rolling her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Bono asked, his face pulling into a tight frown.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She replied, waving her hand dismissively. She didn’t feel like talking about it. Even though she was still drunk and couldn’t quite comprehend the situation completely, she had a creeping suspicion she had made a fool of herself.
“You sure?” Bono pressed, and Cat rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” She assured him.
“Would it help if I undid me zipper again?” he teased and she laughed heartily, with his contagious chuckle joining in and making her laugh harder.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” Larry’s voice boomed as several people stepped out of the back door to investigate the noisy pair. This demand, of course, for no reason other than the fact that they were so far gone, made them laugh even harder.
“Bloody eejits!” Larry said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand out of habit. Cat had already noticed he did this more when he felt at a loss for words or awkward for some other reason. It was another of his boyish, endearing habits.
“Oh, God…” Cat moaned, gasping her breath and clutching her aching sidewith her free arm.
“C’mon, I think it’s time we took the man home and tucked him in.” Edge said, reaching out to grasp Bono’s elbow in order to guide him away.
“Piss off.” Bono told him with a grin.
“Oh, I don’t feel…” Cat started, but Bono wasn’t paying attention to her anymore, although he still had one arm firmly wrapped around her shoulder. He was about to tell Edge that he was just fine and didn’t need to be ‘tucked in’. He was interrupted when Cat doubled over at the waist and wretched, spewing the contents of her stomach directly onto his shoes.
****************************************************
I borrowed a line from Simpsons episode 200, 'for all you trainspotters out there'
So, if it double posts again, It's not my faultDisclaimer: Not real. Fiction. Fantasy. The further along the series gets, the further it gets from reality
Should not be considered in any way a true representation on any of the people mentioned within
Part 4: the thieves den
The stage was cleared, the arena nearly empty. The silence was deafening. Less than two hours ago the place had been filled with people. People singing, dancing, cheering. It was a rush unlike any other. And it was over. Cat often felt like this after a big show; a sort-of post-partum depression syndrome for spotlight junkies. The feeling of ‘coming down’. She could still feel the buzz of adrenaline in her veins, feel the warmth of the spotlight on her face.
It was quiet outside, now, too. Had been since security had sent out a decoy limo to make the fans waiting think that ‘U2 had left the building’. Not their style, but this wasn’t a usual show. The excitement of the surprise had people acting crazy. Maybe it was the full moon, Cat thought. Her grandmother always said the full moon brought out the crazy in people.
“You can almost hear the echoes, still, can’t you?” She heard Bono ask as he walked up behind her. She smiled at the way his voice actually wrapped around her like warm silk.
“Yeah. Almost.” She agreed with a sad smile. “I’d have thought you’d be pretty jaded about things like this by now.” She told him, casting a sideways glance at the man to see that he’d showered and changed in the dressing room. His hair was still damp, drying lightly and falling around his handsome face. It looked better without all the goop in it, she thought.
“No, no… I’ll never stop loving the feeling of being on stage with people surrounding me on every side. Creating something beautiful, something new every single time because, ah, well, you know each crowd has it’s own… what have you, it’s own… ‘energy’.” He told her, his eyes sparkling with the intensity the man’s fans had come to know and love him for.
“So are you guys off to your hotel? Or are you flying right out?” Cat asked, sighing and stretching her arms out above her head, the fingers entwined with the opposite hand.
“Thought we might hit Beale.” He told her, referring to the big party street in Memphis, the place with several blocks of unique stores, restaurants and clubs, to which countless people flocked every year. It was the crossroads of music, the birthplace of Rock and Roll, the home of the blues. It’s neon lights and open-all-night bars called out to the heart and soul of anyone in search of a good time.
“Mmmm. BB King’s?” She asked and he nodded and smiled. “Well, you guys have fun hanging out with the tourists.” She told him playfully, turning to walk away.
“Why, what are you doing?” He asked, falling into pace with her.
“Nothing much. Some of our friends are throwing a little after party for us. It’s nothing fancy.” She told him with a careless shrug. As they reached the garage, they saw the others waiting. Adam, Larry and Edge were talking to the men from Tequila monster, standing near the rented Ford Mustang. It wasn’t their first choice, but it would do on short notice.
“Nothing you guys would want to go to, anyway. I’m sure you’re used to a lot more extravagant celebrations. Being ‘living rock legends’ as you are.” She said, making air quote with her fingers and rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, we’re so refined.” Adam said sarcastically, joining in on the conversation.
“Well, anyway. We’re headed south of town, across the border into Mississippi. Just a friendly little get together. You can come, if you’d like.” She said, acting so cool it almost seemed as if she didn’t want them to come at all. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, the idea of partying with U2 would almost counterweight the sad news they’d gotten from Gunnar.
“To get there you’re going to take 55 south out of the city. If you’ve hit Nesbit, you’ve gone too far.” She told them, as her fellow band members were loading into their Jeep. She moved off to the other side of the Mustang and straddled her motorcycle. Larry’s eyes lit up with interest.
“The boys have some errands to run or I’d tell you to just follow them.” She continued. She smiled when she saw Larry eyeing her ride.
“She’s got the shape of a street bike but the soul of a Harley.” She told him, starting the engine and giving the throttle a twist. Most sportsbikes sounded more like wind up toys, but this one did indeed have the roar of a Harley.
“SV-1000. Naked sides, v-twin engine. It’s not stock, though.” He asked, moving forward to examine the bike more closely.
“Oh, here we go.” Edge said playfully rolling his eyes. Each of them had at least one obsession or habit which the others recognized immediately. Larry’s was motorcycles; usually he stayed focused on Harley Davidson, but it wasn’t completely exclusive.
“I’ve had a few post-production modifications done.” She told him coyly.
“Tell him what you named it.” Alex called out from where he was sitting in the jeep.
“I call her Noisy Bitch.” She told him with a smirk.
“You know you love something when you name it after yourself.” Gunnar quipped, earning a ripple of laughter. Cat tried to look irritated, but lost the fight to hide her smile.
“Why don’t we just follow you?” Bono asked, pulling the conversation back on track. Cat smiled wickedly as she slid her helmet on, lifting the visor.
“Well, you can, if you think you can keep up.” She told him playfully. Bono and Larry turned and looked at each other intensely for a moment before Bono made a break for the drivers seat. Larry’s long legs allowed him to catch up easily enough, and he snatched the keys out of Adam’s extended hand as he slid behind the wheel.
“Fecker!” Bono shot at his mate, slapping a hand down on the hood of the car in frustration. Larry bestowed upon those in his company one of his rare, broad-faced grins. It was probably a good thing he didn’t smile like that all the time, Catalina thought, or no one around the man would ever get a damned thing accomplished. It was enchanting in a completely innocent and unassuming way. She could tell that he would absolutely hate being told this, though. He wasn’t the type who wanted compliments on his good looks. He’d gotten tired of them long ago, though it seemed he was only getting better looking with age.
Bono hurried around to claim the front passenger seat, which neither Adam nor Edge particularly wanted anyway. They climbed into the back seat casually, irritating Bono who was urging them to hurry.
Cat revved the engine once more, holding tight to the brake and spinning her wheels to heat the tires, like any good race driver knew to do.
“Ready, boys?” She asked, and Larry turned the key, the engine roaring to life on the Mustang. She smiled and flipped the visor down on her helmet, completely concealing her face. In less than a breath, she was off. Larry muttered some sort of expletive under his breath and pressed hard on the accelerator, the car lurching forward as he gave chase.
She was around every corner at breakneck speeds, getting entire blocks ahead of them before stopping for a red light or sign. At the final light before the freeway on ramp, they were side by side waiting for the green. She revved her engine and waved ‘bye-bye’ as the light turned. Once they were on the open interstate, she was nigh impossible to catch. Adam and Edge belted themselves into the back seat as they watched the speedometer needle swing upward until it was buried at the top end.
“Jayzus, I shoulda let Bono drive.” Adam joked when Larry swerved into the right lane to pass an annoyingly slow SUV. He then slipped between the SUV and the pickup truck it had been starting to pass, back into the left lane.
“Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear.” Edge replied with a grin.
“You’re gonna lose her.” Bono told Larry, who scowled and tossed his mate a sideward glance of warning. One side of his mouth twitched upwards in a smile, and he was about to make a smart comment when Cat suddenly changed course and veered off the freeway with little warning.
“Shiiiiit!” Larry exclaimed as he pressed the brake and swung the wheel to the right, a horn blaring behind them as a truck narrowly avoiding slamming into their rear bumper. “Everybody ok?” He asked a bit sheepishly, glancing in the rear view mirror at Edge and Adam.
“Oh, yeah we’re just fine, fine. Absolutely. I think Edge needs a new pair of trousers, but other than that…” Adam quipped.
“Yer the one holdin’ onto the door like you’re ready to dive out.” Edge joked, the men all laughing a bit crazily with relief after the fright Larry’s stunt driving had put into them. After a moment, the laughter died down and the car was silent.
“Bono?” Adam asked from the back seat.
“Yeah?”
“Just making sure you were alive.” He said, and Bono turned and arched a brow at his mate. “You hadn’t talked in so long I thought maybe Larry’s trick driving had broken you or something.” Adam teased as Larry pulled the car to a stop alongside Cat’s bike. Bono scowled and made a rude hand gesture at his friend before climbing out of the car.
“Fancy driving back there, slick.” Cat said, her hair falling loose around her shoulders as she took her helmet off. She tilted her head to one side and then the other, the vertebrae in her neck making a soft popping noise. Larry’s mouth twitched up sideways at her.
“It’s no great shakes, but welcome to my house.” She told them, gesturing to the small square structure with peeling green paint and an oil stained car-port. Light poured out from every window, accompanied by the sounds of music and chatter, and the smell of some sort of BBQ on the grill.
“This is your place? I thought you said it was a friends?” Bono asked, eyeing the shabby little house more carefully now.
“My place. Friends organized the party part, set it all up for me. C’mon in.” She informed them, hanging her helmet over one handle before making her way in through a sliding glass door. The ‘black-eyed peas’ thumped out of the stereo speakers, the kitchen windows rattling with the heavy bass. A cheer went up amongst the party guests and Cat was overtaken by people wanting to congratulate her. Most of them had not yet heard the news about Gunnar.
After several hugs, and pats on the back Cat pulled herself away from the crowd and gestured for the men to follow her out a back door. There were several coolers setting nearby in the back yard as well as two kiddy pools full of ice, all holding bottles and cans of various drinks.
“Help yourselves.” She told them as she swung the lid up on one of the coolers and chose a hard lemonade. She twisted the cap off and took a long pull off the bottle as the men looked around to see what there was to drink.
“God bless ya, girl, I was starting to fear you didn’t have any of the black stuff.” Bono told her as he found the Guinness stashed in the far cooler. He quickly handed one to Larry and then to Edge. Adam found some bottled water in one of the kiddy pools. Cat smiled at Bono knowingly.
“And I was afraid no one would drink it.” She teased.
“Trust me, you won’t have that problem.” He assured her, walking around to where she had seated herself atop a wooden picnic table, her feet resting on the bench seat.
“So what do you think of the place?” She asked when she noticed the way he was looking about, taking in details of the house and the yard. “I mean, it’s not exactly Graceland, but it’s home.” She told him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Before Bono could reply, however, a rowdy group of people spilled out the back door, demanding her attention. In fact, for the better part of the night, every time she tried to visit with one of them, someone or something would pull her away.
Around two a.m., things began to quiet down slightly, and she had a chance to look around the place in search of her special guests. Bono was still in the backyard, near a pile of empties. There was a large group of people around him, listening to him talk animatedly.
Larry and Edge were inside the house, seated on the sofa with a smaller group which included the boys from tequila monster. Larry had a set of bongos (Cat couldn’t help but wonder just where someone would have found a set of bongos in her house) and Edge had her old acoustic guitar, the one which had been a gift from her uncle when she was 12. He was busy replacing the strings, which, Cat thought, might have been nearly as old as she was.
“So can I ask you something?” Edge was saying to Gunnar as he worked.
“Sure.” Gunnar told him, slumping down into the chair next to him, his body so relaxed it seemed almost impossible he had a solid spine and could still sit like that.
“Do you believe in God?” Edge asked, his fingers still working expertly to pull the wire tight, slip it through the tuning machines. Gunnar raised his right hand as if he were being sworn in to court.
“I believe in God the father almighty, creator of Heaven and earth..” he started reciting the apostles creed. Edge smiled and looked up at the young man for the first time.
“Well, that tells me someone made you go to church, but it doesn’t mean you really believe.”
“I believe that God is a kid with an ant colony. He gives us the basics; food, water, the raw materials for a home. Then he sits back as we dig tunnels and build our world. Sometimes he watches, sometimes he goes off and does other things. Every once in awhile, he gets really bored, picks the world up and shakes it hard. He shakes everything up, sits back and watches while we start all over again.” Gunnar told him, and Edge felt he was beginning to understand that sadness in the man’s smile.
“Hmmm.” He murmured in response, scratching the whiskers on his chin.
“Hmmm… what?” Gunnar asked.
“It’s just a sad thing, to live life feeling that way.” Edge told him, catching Gunnar off guard. He had been prepared to fend off overt attempts to convert him, to ‘save his soul’. This simple, dispassionate response was completely unexpected. As he stared at the man, pondering his best course of action, Cat wandered away. This was not a conversation she was in the mood for. The others could have deep and meaningful conversations tonight if they wanted too. She needed to let go of the heaviness in her heart.
She wandered into the quiet front yard to find Adam seated on the porch swing, the rusty chains creaking as he swayed back and forth.
“Hiding out?” She asked, leaning against the corner of the house. A bottle dangled between the fingers of one hand, her other hand resting on her hip. She hadn’t bothered to braid her hair again, just washed and brushed it quickly after the show. It hung loosely around her face and shoulders, the blonde highlights golden in the moonlight. She sauntered over to sit down beside him, and he could already tell she was drunk from the sway in her walk.
“No, not at all.” He replied with a smile. “Just enjoying the weather.”
“Mmmm… it is nice out, isn’t it? Late spring is my favorite time of the year, I think. It hasn’t gotten humid yet, but it’s nice and warm. I hate it when it’s cold enough that I have to wear socks.” She told him, pulling her long legs up underneath her and sitting sideways to face him. He pushed the swing back and forth lazily with the slightest movement of his long legs.
“I’ve always said I think a man shouldn’t be forced to wear pants when it isn’t cold.” He told her. She smiled broadly at the rather interesting philosophy, tilted her head to one side, and sighed contentedly. Adam smiled back at her.
“Yer absolutely bolloxed, aren’t you?” He asked, and her eyebrows pulled together in a frown.
“I’m what?” She asked, and he chuckled. It was a low, throaty sound which resonated through her belly and spread out in every direction through her whole body.
“Bolloxed. Buckled, Fluthered, Gee-Eyed, in the numbs. Shlossed.” He told her, seeing the change in her face as soon as she recognized what he was saying.
“Oh, drunk!” She said, careful to pronounce her words properly and in the effort to do so, over-pronouncing things and dragging them out too much. “No, I’m not.” She said and he laughed at her again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m not!” she insisted, swinging out and lightly hitting him on the chest with the palm of her hand.
“No?” He asked.
“No!” she told him, trying to keep a straight face. The longer he silently stared into her eyes, however, the harder she fund it to not giggle. Finally she broke out into a grin and told him, “I prefer the term schnookered.” Her laughter was a bit over-boisterous at her own joke, and he decided she was even worse off than he’d first suspected.
“Schnookered.” He repeated the term and she nodded, still grinning.
“Yep. Or Shit-faced. Wasted. Plastered. Three sheets to the wind! ” she exclaimed, her alcohol dulled mind on a roll now. Adam closed his eyes, his head tilting back as he laughed.
When he opened them again, he saw that she was staring at him. He didn’t have to ask what she was thinking, now that the alcohol had taken down all of her defenses she was completely transparent. He wasn’t a stranger to the look she was giving him as she leaned toward him, her eyes clouded with desire.
He cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably, shifting his lower jaw as he pursed his lips together. Anything to buy him a moment to think his way through the situation he realized he was in. He knew that women, when they’d been drinking, tended to get over-emotional. If they came on to a man and he took them up on their offer he was taking advantage of them. If he rejected her, he was subjected to either a series of foul names and perhaps even a physical assault, or she would begin bawling. There was no ‘right’ way out of it. All he could do was change the subject and hope to distract her.
“So, Cat. What’s that short for, Catherine?” He asked, shifting in the seat so that he was backed into the corner of the swing, his long legs keeping some distance between himself and Cat.
“Catalina.” She told him.
“Ca’alina.” He repeated and she grinned. He had the most beautiful accent; it was a beautiful mix of Dublin Irish and Oxfordshire English.
“Say it again.” She urged, and he laughed.
“Ca’alina.” He said once more, and she thrilled at the sound of that beautiful accent wrapped around her name. For being so drunk, she moved quickly, Adam realized. She leaned in, her body angling across his lap.
“Say my name again.” She whispered, her face so close to his he felt her eyelashes brush against his temple when she blinked.
“Uhh….” He said, taking her by the shoulders and scooting her back over to her side of the swing and then rising to his feet in one fluid motion. “Excuse me.” He said her briskly but politely.
“What…?” She asked, her mind reeling at this sudden change of direction. She scowled at the door behind which he had disappeared, fleeing as if she were the devil himself. She stood and found her feet, which took an extra moment or two. She stumbled around the corner of the house, feeling like a cartoon character with a little black cloud hanging over her head.
As soon as she’d rounded the corner, she slammed into something solid. Something warm and solid. Something with a broad chest and shoulders, and strong arms. Something in a loose fitting silk shirt, which smelled like cologne and pheromones. Something which staggered sideways when she hit it and muttered ‘shite’ as it tried to find it’s feet again.
“Sorry!” She exclaimed, reaching out instinctively, although whether the intention of this was to aid the man whom she had knocked off balance or to steady herself was unclear. With one hand, he braced himself against the wall and with the other her managed to grab hold of her shoulder. Somehow, they managed to stay upright. Before either of them had spoken a word, they burst out into drunken laughter, clinging to one another.
“You ok?” Bono asked, peering down at her with a broad, easy grin.
“Yeah, you?” she asked, amusement still clear in her voice.
“Fine, thanks. A bit drunk, but just fine all the same.” He told her, his words slurring together into a nearly incoherent jumble. She snickered, then clamped a hand over her mouth to try and repress the laughter. She happened to glance down and notice the button on his pants gapping open, the zipper only halfway up.
“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, and he followed her gaze.
“Nope, just got done having a piss in the bushes. Didn’t think I would make it to the toilet.” He informed her and she burst out laughing once more.
“I’m not quite so pissed that I was disrobing just for the fun of it.” He said as he completed the unfinished task of zipping and buttoning his trousers. “Disappointed?” he asked playfully. She couldn’t respond, couldn’t even catch a breath she was laughing so hard.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Adam’s the resident exhibitionist.” He told her as they began to make their way back to the party, their arms draped around one another lest they should fall down. She sighed dramatically, and he felt her shoulders slump.
“Adam.” She grumbled, rolling her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Bono asked, his face pulling into a tight frown.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She replied, waving her hand dismissively. She didn’t feel like talking about it. Even though she was still drunk and couldn’t quite comprehend the situation completely, she had a creeping suspicion she had made a fool of herself.
“You sure?” Bono pressed, and Cat rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” She assured him.
“Would it help if I undid me zipper again?” he teased and she laughed heartily, with his contagious chuckle joining in and making her laugh harder.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” Larry’s voice boomed as several people stepped out of the back door to investigate the noisy pair. This demand, of course, for no reason other than the fact that they were so far gone, made them laugh even harder.
“Bloody eejits!” Larry said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand out of habit. Cat had already noticed he did this more when he felt at a loss for words or awkward for some other reason. It was another of his boyish, endearing habits.
“Oh, God…” Cat moaned, gasping her breath and clutching her aching sidewith her free arm.
“C’mon, I think it’s time we took the man home and tucked him in.” Edge said, reaching out to grasp Bono’s elbow in order to guide him away.
“Piss off.” Bono told him with a grin.
“Oh, I don’t feel…” Cat started, but Bono wasn’t paying attention to her anymore, although he still had one arm firmly wrapped around her shoulder. He was about to tell Edge that he was just fine and didn’t need to be ‘tucked in’. He was interrupted when Cat doubled over at the waist and wretched, spewing the contents of her stomach directly onto his shoes.
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I borrowed a line from Simpsons episode 200, 'for all you trainspotters out there'
