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I drained my glass, smiled and placed it on the table. "That was delicious! What was it?"
Steve grinned broadly. "It's my own recipe. Gin, apricot and come."
"That's weird, I don't normally like apricot," I shot back and then silence as I realized what I'd said.
He looked surprised as well..... And maybe, just maybe, a little hopeful.
———————
Where were you on Record Store Day? Stupidly, and completely unaware of the event, I was in a record store intending to pick up the new Ministry album, the one with doggy-dicked squirrel on the cover. But to even reach the regular new releases rack, first I had to wade through a couple of score of happy shoppers, squabbling over the Grateful Dead box sets and Taylor Swift singles. And then join a line at the check-out that was worse than an airport on the day before Thanksgiving.
Finally I got there and the first thing I heard was an insult. "Still listening to that goth shit, are you?" The guy at the counter looked disdainfully at my purchase and, for a moment, I was brewing a suitably rude response. And then I looked again and... oh. "Steve?"
He nodded. "I've not seen you since High School. How you doing?"
"Yeah, okay." He was coming back to me now, a guy in my class, a bit of a punk if I remembered correctly, and he was laughing at my music? But I was still formulating a witty rejoinder, when he looked at the line behind me. "It's great to see you but I'd better get on. But hey, my band's playing the Music Hall tonight. You should come by, check us out."
I nodded. They'd probably be dreadful, but it'd be rude to say no, especially as I didn't have a ready-made excuse. He promised to leave my name on the door and off I went.
Ah, Goth shit. Yes, that's me. The archetypal fat goth chick, as I still hear people whisper sometimes, when they think I cannot hear. Well, they can fuck off. All through high school, all through college, and out into the "real world," everyday was indeed Halloween, and tonight was going to be no exception. I had hours to go before the show started, but you can never start planning your outfit too early.
And I looked good. I'd had my hair colored just a few days ago, and that definitely helped, purple streaks through my natural black, matching the lipstick I habitually wore. Then a stint in front of the mirror, making sure my eyes looked just right - my tribute to past Queens of Kohl, from Theda Barr to Eva O... tonight, I was going for the early 70s Melanie, subtler than some, but stunning all the same.
Studded bracelet, a wrist full of bracelets, my Cleopatra Records T-shirt ("Goth as Fuck," it says. Best T-shirt slogan ever)... red mini skirt... glitter fishnets... Doc Martens... That was easy. And now I'm leaning against the back wall of the Music Hall, watching Steve's band thunder through a set that was a lot better than I expected, and even better after he caught my eye, grinned a happy hello, and dedicated the next song to the Queen of Darkness. I'd forgotten, that was my nickname in high school.
The band finished playing and I was just wondering whether or not I wanted to stay for the next group when Steve flopped against the wall beside me. "So what did you think?"
"Believe it or not, I enjoyed it," I laughed. "Probably not something I'd play at home, but great live. I didn't know you played guitar."
"Well, we didn't hang out much back then, but yeah." He took a long drink from the outsized Yeti tumbler he was carrying. "Here, try some. Being as they're not serving alcohol tonight? What's in your cup?"
I told him Sprite, and he refilled my cup from his Yeti. A little
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