Disclaimer: Some real people, fake story
David's POV
"Thanks Mom," I said, shutting the door of her SUV and resting my body against it, I felt as if I could fall asleep right here. "I'll call you tomorrow. Now you can go home and call everyone we know and tell them the exciting news." I teased her.
"You know how much I would love that but we can't tell anyone until the show starts in January." She reminded me, as I counted in my head. I couldn't tell a soul about this for another five months, and I was horrible at keeping secrets.
"I was only joking Ma, night." With my keys in my hand, I turned around and headed toward the mailboxes. Junk mail, junk mail, and more junk mail, as always. I noticed the last one was thicker, so I took a peek at it. It read "URGENT" on it and I knew right away that it was about someone, somewhere, from some company wanting their money back. Stuffing the mail under my arm, I slowly climbed two small flight of stairs. Halfway up, a sharp pain jolted through my knee, making me stop dead in my tracks and wince a bit but, I thought nothing of it and kept moving. I didn't want to stop, I was on a mission I wanted to return to my bed, my dream to my mystery girl from this morning. I wasn't sure how I would do it but, after today's events I was starting to believe anything was possible. I even tried reenacting my own actions from my previous fantasy, hoping for it to become a reality. I forced my door open with my body, laid my jacket on my couch, and waited for that beautiful sound, her voice. I lingered in the middle of my living room, but all I heard was a fight coming from above me, the Conan's were having a screaming match for the third time this week. Looking at my watch, I remembered it was 3:01am in my dream, and it was only 8:37pm now. Realizing that I was being completely ridiculous, I went to my fridge, hoping that something would have magically appeared while I was gone. I was sadly disappointed as I peered into the fridge, only to find two beers, leftover Chicken Lo Mien, and a half-eaten piece of pizza. I made a sloppy note for myself to go to the store soon before I start to waste away to nothing. Bereaved by my discoveries, I sulked down the hallway into my bedroom, deciding that I wasn't really that hungry to begin with. I told myself that I needed to clean my room up, remembering my mother's nagging.
"Tomorrow." I said, looking from one mound of clothes to another, I couldn't differentiate between the clean and dirty. It was becoming harder to open my eyes, they just wanted to rest. Turning off my light, I stumbled to the side of my bed, losing my shirt, shoes, and jeans in the process. As my skin hit my sheets, I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I would be knocked out cold. I tried to concentrate on her, wanting to be pulled into that dream once more.
I opened my eyes, recognizing the small, smoke-infested room I was in, I was once again at work. I suddenly felt smothered by the four dark walls that surrounded me. I couldn't really remember getting here, or even getting up this morning, which was strange, but I pushed the though aside when I was brought back into reality.
"Keep 'em comin', Dave" I heard one of my usual patrons, Paul shout. Pulling a random bottom shelf bottle from the bar, I poured the liquid about half way, filling the rest up with water. As a bartender, these people's lives were in my hands. If they got totally smashed and then ran someone over, it was in a round-about way my fault. So, I had to keep an eye out and remember who has had what and how much, it was a pretty nerve-racking job. The bar wasn't too full tonight, only about 9 customers, if I counted right. I blinked over and over again, trying to focus in on the people, somethings were just blurry for no reason. I figured it must have just been the mixture of liquor, hunger, and fatigue. As I filled another glass with cheap alcohol and water, I caught a swift movement out of the corner of my eye. Of course, I thought. There was always a fight that I had to break up between sloppy drunks, it never fails. This would probably be the highlight of my night, as things at the bar top seemed mellow.
"Be right back, fellas" I said as I ran out into the parking lot, looking for the flying fists. The cool September air stung my lungs, it felt too brisk for it being so early in the season, it just didn't seem to fit. I walked out under a street lamp, listening to the gravel crunch under my feet, everything seemed odd. It was too peaceful, too quiet and cold, even for a small town in Oklahoma. I just stood there, with my hands shoved deep in my pockets, waiting for something, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. A gust of wind hit my face, making me shiver slightly.
"This is stupid." I said to myself. What was I thinking? I'm working, I don't have time to just stand around and wait for the sky to open and god to appear, I had a job to do. Turning around sharply on the worn-down heels of my cowboy boots, I felt it again. The same pain from earlier shot through my knee, but it was more intense this time, leaving me with a stinging sensation as I walked slowly up to the doorway to hell.
And then I heard it, I just knew, it was what I had been waiting for, a muffled laugh. Spinning around again, my knee still tingling.
"Hello?" I called out into the black night. I waiting again, only hearing the harsh winds wrap around the trees. "Anyone there?" I called out again, cupping my ear to amplify the sounds around me. The laugh, I knew it was hers, it was alluring. It sounded like she was right behind me, unless I was going crazy, and then I was just hearing things that weren't really there, that had to be it. It was all a dream, she was just a dream. I told myself, as I walked through the doorway and back behind the bar, my second home.
"Another one, Paul?" I asked, already beginning to fill yet again, another glass. I could tell that he was so dissipated that I could have given him water and he would have thought it was whiskey. In this business, I saw many people at their lowest, but it never made it any easier to watch, even giving them a hand. I always felt like I was just tying the knot in their rope, or kicking the chair out from under them, whenever I would serve them another drink. Since my brother's diagnosis ten years ago, I always was grateful for life, living every moment like it was my last.
"This is going to be the last call, fellas." I said, wiping down the bar top. I was ready to go home, I was tired. Anymore, just the thought of this place drained me. Doing my usual cleaning, I swept, mopped and wiped the tabletops down. The clinking of the glasses in the dishwasher was like a lullaby to me, I was afraid I was going to fall asleep right there, I wondered if I'd survive the drive home. Finally, I shut off all of the lights and locked the door, walking back out into the crisp air, stinging as much as it did before. I rushed out to my car door, trying to get in as quickly as possible, all I could think about was getting sleep.
The drive home was a little hazy, I remember passing the local movie theatre next to the Burger King, which I was half-tempted to go through the drive-through for a Whopper and some fries, but then I looked down at my gut and told myself no. I sang along as Innocent by Our Lady Peace poured out of my speakers.
"...Oh, Tina’s losing faith in what she knows
Hates her music, hates all of her clothes
Thinks of surgery and a new nose
Every calorie is a war
While she wishes she Was a dancer
And that she'd never Heard of cancer
She wishes God would give her some answers
And make her feel beautiful..." Thinking of Adam, I could feel a tear run down my cheek as I pulled in front of my complex. I wiped it away and entered the building.
I released a sigh as I turning my apartment key and opened my door. I noticed that it was 3:01am just as I set my jacket on the couch. I began making my way toward the hallway, I knew I was going to collapse at any moment.
"Wait, baby." I heard coming from behind me, I turned around quickly. There's no way. I thought. I remembered that voice, her voice. It was dark, I couldn't see anything. I tried to make my way back to the light switch, hoping I could finally see her face in the light. Then I felt her hand grasp mine.
"I missed you" She whispered in my ear, pulling me in some direction, I wasn't quite sure. She pushed me onto the couch. I felt her climb on top of me, pressing her sweet, soft lips to mine, catching me off-guard.
"You're all I've been thinking about lately." I confessed, and then kissing her back. I thought about asking her what her name was. Just as I opened my mouth, forming the words, I blinked and the sunlight surprised me. I wasn't on the couch with my mystery girl on top of me, I was in my bed.
"Really?" I shouted out loud, realizing that it was only a dream once again. I squeezed my eyes shut again, trying to slip back into the dream. I just wanted to be back there with her, even if it was just a dream, it felt like the real thing. I was happy with her, I felt safe and secure in her arms. I got up out of bed, remembering yesterday's events, a small smile spread across my face. Now it was time to think about the real world.
1.29.2010
Rest Your Head, I'm Permanent - Chapter 4
Disclaimer: Some real people, fake story
David's POV
Quietly sliding the key into the doorknob, I forced my body into the frame until it gave way, exposing my poorly lit living room. I felt confused, but I knew that I had just made it all the way back home from the bar. Or as I like to call it, hell on earth. I figured that I may have had one to many sips of Grey Goose, which probably caused my slight confusion. Catching a glimpse at my watch, it had just turned 3:01 am. Laying my jacket over the back of the couch, I heard something, or someone.
"Damn baby, I tried to wait up for you. I'm so sorry." The girl's body somewhat hidden by the shadows. She rose from the sofa and wrapped her arms around my neck, her sweet vanilla scent exhilarated me.
"Come on, lets get to bed, I'm sure you're tired. She said, pulling me toward my bedroom. I didn't know her name. Hell, I didn't know her, at least I didn't think I did. However, she carried a familiar aura. I noticed that she was wearing one of my t-shirts. It was a little too big for her, dangling from her shoulders, hugging her breasts lightly. She turned around, lifting my shirt off and throwing it into the blackness of a corner and then went for my belt. After a bit of help, she had gotten me all the way down to my blue boxer-briefs. Biting her lip, she had a pleased look on her face, like she would have been happy if we stayed like this forever. Damnit, why couldn't I remember her name? I thought to myself as we both climbed into my bed. The heat between us rapidly increased as space diminished, my hands traveling the length of her thick thighs.
"David!" I was woken up by some figure shaking me violently. I looked around, searching for that girl but the sunlight stung my iris'
"Jesus Christ David, wake up already." I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the person in my flat.
"How do you live like this?" I realized that my mom was rummaging through my stuff, picking up a mixture of dirty and clean clothes, soda cans, and crossword puzzles off of the floor.
"I am 24 and in my apartment not 16 and living at home, the last time I checked mom." I said, slightly joking. I'd be the first one to admit, my whole apartment was a mess. It was only me around here, so I never worried about it too much. And if I ever got lucky enough to bring a girl back to my place, well just the idea of that made me laugh, causing my mother to turn back around.
"What's so funny? That you live in a pig sty?" She said, holding up a dirty sock and the remains of Buffalo Bill's Takeout, which from what I could remember, had to be at least a few weeks old since I couldn't recall when I had wings last.
"I know, I know!" I'm sorry." I snatched the container from her hands.
"Get dressed, quickly! We've got to get down to the stadium for your audition sometime today." She stumbled out of my room, closing the door behind her. Running my fingers through my hair, I couldn't remember when I had a shower last either, wasn't it just yesterday?
"Ma, I'm getting a shower first." I yelled at my door, looking around for a towel.
"Quickly! You've got thirty minutes." I heard her yell back.
Flicking on the bathroom light, I threw my towel on the floor and pulled the shower knob toward "warm", tossing my boxer-briefs in the direction of my clothes hamper, I stepped into the shower and washed up.
"It was all just a dream?" I asked myself, chuckling a bit. My luck, of course. I should have know, no female, besides my own mother, would ever step foot in apartment 9A. I pulled a sleeveless black & white argyle sweater over my black button-up. Most of my wardrobe consisted of black and white. Not that I didn't like colors, or anything. I was just a sweaty guy, no matter what I did, I always sweat like crazy. So I'd try to limit myself to dark monochromatic shirts, where it was easier to hide the sweat stains.
After gliding on a pair of grey jeans, I managed to styled my hair into a fohawk, letting my red/blond bangs fall upon my face.
"Whatcha thing?" I asked, parading around in the living room for my mom.
"I think you're gonna be late if you don't knock it off and just get in the car." I stuck my tongue out at her. No matter what age I really was, I was still a child at heart.
"Now!" She said, shoving me into the stairwell, locking the door behind her. I mocked her as I jumped down the stairs.
After eight hours of waiting, I was about to gouge my eyes out.
"Maaaa, Why didn't you let me grab a puzzle before we left?" I said with a fake frowning face.
"Because, you were taking forever." She replied, very matter-of-fact. "Maybe if you acted like your age, then I would have reminded you." I slumped back into my chair, looking around at everyone else in the room.
"Numbers 36210 to 36220, please make your way to the smaller waiting room." A voice over the intercom stated.
"Good luck, babe. I'm so proud of you!" My mom said, snapping me back into reality.
"Hmm?" I asked. I couldn't think straight, my mind was clouded, and of all days.
"They called you into the smaller waiting room." She replied.
"Oh, ok." I said, getting up and hugging my mom. "I love you."
"Love you too, now go get em." She said, wiping a tear off of her cheek. I turned on my heels and headed toward the smaller waiting room. I couldn't sit and watch her cry like that, it reminded me too much of all of the pain she has been through with my brother. I wish I could take away all of the pain from her, I wasn't sure how much more she could handle. Me on the other hand, I could still bottle it up deep down and look fine on the outside. Settling in another uncomfortable blue chair, I tried to push out all of my thoughts about everything. I needed to focus, just listen to the music.
I think I fell asleep from focusing too hard for a few minutes, until I was woken up.
"36214, you're next in line for your audition." I heard, realizing that they had called my number. I could feel the sweat beginning to moisten my skin and clothes, the butterflies began their dancing, and that egg sandwich I had for breakfast, I wasn't too sure if it was going to stay down. I hummed the part of the song I chose to sing over and over again in my head until I was told to enter the judging room, where my fate would be sealed.
Walking into the room, my palms clammed up, my throat tightened a bit. I didn't really have stage fright, at least I didn't think so. I had sung at local shows with my band for a few years now but, those small sets never had the possibility of changing my life forever, molding me into a pop-rock star.
"David Cook?" Paula asked.
"Yes, ma'am" I answered, hoping that I didn't look half as nervous as I felt.
"Are you the next American Idol?" Paula asked again.
"I think so, I really do." I lied. I lacked the confidence, I never felt like I was good enough for anything, let alone a television singing competition.
"Why?" She said. I was hoping she wouldn't want to go into this kind of detail. I just wanted to get the audition done and over with.
"Uh, I think I'm the next American Idol uhm, because I bring something a little different to the table. I'm versatile vocally, and uh I feel like I'm a pretty personable guy." I flashed a small smile, I was proud of how well I pulled that answer off.
"And what would your friends say about you entering American Idol?" Simon asked, reading off a paper, one of the generic questions.
"They obviously want the best for me, you know but..." I said, and I believed it. My friends and family always had my back when it came to music, they wanted me to go all the way, make it really far.
"No friends ever do." Simon snapped back, he was known for his snarky comments. Everyone in the room laughed it off, lessening some of the pressure I had felt earlier.
"David, what are you going to be singing?" Paula asked, moving the audition forward.
"I am going to be singing Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi." I said. I felt confident about this song, me and my friends would always sit around and just burst out into song, this song was one of our most popular picks, so I had a lot of practice under my belt.
"Off you go." She replied. I took a deep breath in and told myself it was now or never.
"Tommy used to work on the docks
Union's been on strike, He's down on his luck.
It's tough, so tough.
Gina dreams of running away
When she cries in the night
Tommy whispers
Baby it's okay, someday." I exhaled, I had actually did it. Now I anticipated the results.
After a few minutes of listening to the feedback, I headed out toward Ryan and my mom. I had gotten the golden ticket to hollywood. My mother was more excited then I was, tears fell down her cheek once more, but I could bear to watch these tears, they were tears of joy not pain. After an extensively long day, I rested my head against the window of my mom's van as she drove me home. I told her I needed to lay down, that I didn't feel like celebrating tonight, I was too tired. The quiet in the car let me finally clear my head. Maybe my luck was turning around after all.
David's POV
Quietly sliding the key into the doorknob, I forced my body into the frame until it gave way, exposing my poorly lit living room. I felt confused, but I knew that I had just made it all the way back home from the bar. Or as I like to call it, hell on earth. I figured that I may have had one to many sips of Grey Goose, which probably caused my slight confusion. Catching a glimpse at my watch, it had just turned 3:01 am. Laying my jacket over the back of the couch, I heard something, or someone.
"Damn baby, I tried to wait up for you. I'm so sorry." The girl's body somewhat hidden by the shadows. She rose from the sofa and wrapped her arms around my neck, her sweet vanilla scent exhilarated me.
"Come on, lets get to bed, I'm sure you're tired. She said, pulling me toward my bedroom. I didn't know her name. Hell, I didn't know her, at least I didn't think I did. However, she carried a familiar aura. I noticed that she was wearing one of my t-shirts. It was a little too big for her, dangling from her shoulders, hugging her breasts lightly. She turned around, lifting my shirt off and throwing it into the blackness of a corner and then went for my belt. After a bit of help, she had gotten me all the way down to my blue boxer-briefs. Biting her lip, she had a pleased look on her face, like she would have been happy if we stayed like this forever. Damnit, why couldn't I remember her name? I thought to myself as we both climbed into my bed. The heat between us rapidly increased as space diminished, my hands traveling the length of her thick thighs.
"David!" I was woken up by some figure shaking me violently. I looked around, searching for that girl but the sunlight stung my iris'
"Jesus Christ David, wake up already." I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the person in my flat.
"How do you live like this?" I realized that my mom was rummaging through my stuff, picking up a mixture of dirty and clean clothes, soda cans, and crossword puzzles off of the floor.
"I am 24 and in my apartment not 16 and living at home, the last time I checked mom." I said, slightly joking. I'd be the first one to admit, my whole apartment was a mess. It was only me around here, so I never worried about it too much. And if I ever got lucky enough to bring a girl back to my place, well just the idea of that made me laugh, causing my mother to turn back around.
"What's so funny? That you live in a pig sty?" She said, holding up a dirty sock and the remains of Buffalo Bill's Takeout, which from what I could remember, had to be at least a few weeks old since I couldn't recall when I had wings last.
"I know, I know!" I'm sorry." I snatched the container from her hands.
"Get dressed, quickly! We've got to get down to the stadium for your audition sometime today." She stumbled out of my room, closing the door behind her. Running my fingers through my hair, I couldn't remember when I had a shower last either, wasn't it just yesterday?
"Ma, I'm getting a shower first." I yelled at my door, looking around for a towel.
"Quickly! You've got thirty minutes." I heard her yell back.
Flicking on the bathroom light, I threw my towel on the floor and pulled the shower knob toward "warm", tossing my boxer-briefs in the direction of my clothes hamper, I stepped into the shower and washed up.
"It was all just a dream?" I asked myself, chuckling a bit. My luck, of course. I should have know, no female, besides my own mother, would ever step foot in apartment 9A. I pulled a sleeveless black & white argyle sweater over my black button-up. Most of my wardrobe consisted of black and white. Not that I didn't like colors, or anything. I was just a sweaty guy, no matter what I did, I always sweat like crazy. So I'd try to limit myself to dark monochromatic shirts, where it was easier to hide the sweat stains.
After gliding on a pair of grey jeans, I managed to styled my hair into a fohawk, letting my red/blond bangs fall upon my face.
"Whatcha thing?" I asked, parading around in the living room for my mom.
"I think you're gonna be late if you don't knock it off and just get in the car." I stuck my tongue out at her. No matter what age I really was, I was still a child at heart.
"Now!" She said, shoving me into the stairwell, locking the door behind her. I mocked her as I jumped down the stairs.
After eight hours of waiting, I was about to gouge my eyes out.
"Maaaa, Why didn't you let me grab a puzzle before we left?" I said with a fake frowning face.
"Because, you were taking forever." She replied, very matter-of-fact. "Maybe if you acted like your age, then I would have reminded you." I slumped back into my chair, looking around at everyone else in the room.
"Numbers 36210 to 36220, please make your way to the smaller waiting room." A voice over the intercom stated.
"Good luck, babe. I'm so proud of you!" My mom said, snapping me back into reality.
"Hmm?" I asked. I couldn't think straight, my mind was clouded, and of all days.
"They called you into the smaller waiting room." She replied.
"Oh, ok." I said, getting up and hugging my mom. "I love you."
"Love you too, now go get em." She said, wiping a tear off of her cheek. I turned on my heels and headed toward the smaller waiting room. I couldn't sit and watch her cry like that, it reminded me too much of all of the pain she has been through with my brother. I wish I could take away all of the pain from her, I wasn't sure how much more she could handle. Me on the other hand, I could still bottle it up deep down and look fine on the outside. Settling in another uncomfortable blue chair, I tried to push out all of my thoughts about everything. I needed to focus, just listen to the music.
I think I fell asleep from focusing too hard for a few minutes, until I was woken up.
"36214, you're next in line for your audition." I heard, realizing that they had called my number. I could feel the sweat beginning to moisten my skin and clothes, the butterflies began their dancing, and that egg sandwich I had for breakfast, I wasn't too sure if it was going to stay down. I hummed the part of the song I chose to sing over and over again in my head until I was told to enter the judging room, where my fate would be sealed.
Walking into the room, my palms clammed up, my throat tightened a bit. I didn't really have stage fright, at least I didn't think so. I had sung at local shows with my band for a few years now but, those small sets never had the possibility of changing my life forever, molding me into a pop-rock star.
"David Cook?" Paula asked.
"Yes, ma'am" I answered, hoping that I didn't look half as nervous as I felt.
"Are you the next American Idol?" Paula asked again.
"I think so, I really do." I lied. I lacked the confidence, I never felt like I was good enough for anything, let alone a television singing competition.
"Why?" She said. I was hoping she wouldn't want to go into this kind of detail. I just wanted to get the audition done and over with.
"Uh, I think I'm the next American Idol uhm, because I bring something a little different to the table. I'm versatile vocally, and uh I feel like I'm a pretty personable guy." I flashed a small smile, I was proud of how well I pulled that answer off.
"And what would your friends say about you entering American Idol?" Simon asked, reading off a paper, one of the generic questions.
"They obviously want the best for me, you know but..." I said, and I believed it. My friends and family always had my back when it came to music, they wanted me to go all the way, make it really far.
"No friends ever do." Simon snapped back, he was known for his snarky comments. Everyone in the room laughed it off, lessening some of the pressure I had felt earlier.
"David, what are you going to be singing?" Paula asked, moving the audition forward.
"I am going to be singing Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi." I said. I felt confident about this song, me and my friends would always sit around and just burst out into song, this song was one of our most popular picks, so I had a lot of practice under my belt.
"Off you go." She replied. I took a deep breath in and told myself it was now or never.
"Tommy used to work on the docks
Union's been on strike, He's down on his luck.
It's tough, so tough.
Gina dreams of running away
When she cries in the night
Tommy whispers
Baby it's okay, someday." I exhaled, I had actually did it. Now I anticipated the results.
After a few minutes of listening to the feedback, I headed out toward Ryan and my mom. I had gotten the golden ticket to hollywood. My mother was more excited then I was, tears fell down her cheek once more, but I could bear to watch these tears, they were tears of joy not pain. After an extensively long day, I rested my head against the window of my mom's van as she drove me home. I told her I needed to lay down, that I didn't feel like celebrating tonight, I was too tired. The quiet in the car let me finally clear my head. Maybe my luck was turning around after all.
1.28.2010
Rest Your Head, I'm Permanent - Chapter 3
Disclaimer: Some real people, fake story
David's POV
Locking the metal door behind me, I let out a much needed sigh of relief. It was a unending night, the regulars were rude as usual, but somehow I just let it roll off my back. One of the many traits I didn't like about myself, I was too soft, I let people walk all over me. I think I even remember seeing one patron stumble out of the establishment without paying his tab, which would be my fault, as always. I told myself to make a mental note, to give Patrick hell tomorrow for calling out "sick" tonight, I knew that was a bunch of bullshit but, like I said, I have a tendency to just let people do as they wish.
Everywhere I looked, there was trash. Then again, this hole-in-the-wall bar was trash to me. Empty beer cans, smashed peanut shells, and broken shot glasses, which I already knew would be another few dollars out of my paycheck, coated the dusty floor. Glancing at my watch, it was a little past three in the morning, apparently last call had taken a bit longer then I anticipated, drunk people were always a tad bit slower. I dragged myself toward the closet to retrieve the broom and dustpan, I told myself that I at least had to make an effort to make this place a little bit cleaner, even though you would never really be able to tell that I did anything at all. As I began cleaning, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror by the bathroom doors.
"You really need to get yourself together dude. No wonder you're still single. No girl in her right mind would EVER fathom the idea of you as a potential boyfriend." Lifting up my old Alice In Chains t-shirt, I exposed my stomach.
"Gross! Lay off those cheeseburgers man." I lectured myself. I always did this, made myself feel horrible and then drowned my sorrows in thick vanilla milkshakes, greasy steak-cut french fries, and loud music.
I wish the loud music would cure it all. Take away all of the pain, tears, agony, and depression. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was fucked up and needed help. I was always there for someone else, I never accepted help easily, I admit that I am a bit stubborn. Just sometimes, I wish someone would come to my rescue, so I would stop having to be the hero all the time. I always put myself on the back burner. I learned to do just that at the very young age of fifteen, when I had been told that my oldest brother, Adam had Brain Cancer. My whole world stood still for that moment in time. I never really believed it, I always felt as if this was part of some sick, twisted nightmare and I just couldn't wait, deep down I was screaming for someone to simply pinch me.
I wiped down the bar top, gathered all of the dirty glasses, taking them into the makeshift kitchen which was equivalent to the size of a tiny apartment's kitchen. Starting the dishwasher, I slowly walked back out into the bar, looking at my watch once again. It was 4:15 am and all I could think about was my bed, and how lonely it must be without me.
I took a shot of top-shelf Jack Daniels, letting it burn all the way down my throat and began my journey back home.
David's POV
Locking the metal door behind me, I let out a much needed sigh of relief. It was a unending night, the regulars were rude as usual, but somehow I just let it roll off my back. One of the many traits I didn't like about myself, I was too soft, I let people walk all over me. I think I even remember seeing one patron stumble out of the establishment without paying his tab, which would be my fault, as always. I told myself to make a mental note, to give Patrick hell tomorrow for calling out "sick" tonight, I knew that was a bunch of bullshit but, like I said, I have a tendency to just let people do as they wish.
Everywhere I looked, there was trash. Then again, this hole-in-the-wall bar was trash to me. Empty beer cans, smashed peanut shells, and broken shot glasses, which I already knew would be another few dollars out of my paycheck, coated the dusty floor. Glancing at my watch, it was a little past three in the morning, apparently last call had taken a bit longer then I anticipated, drunk people were always a tad bit slower. I dragged myself toward the closet to retrieve the broom and dustpan, I told myself that I at least had to make an effort to make this place a little bit cleaner, even though you would never really be able to tell that I did anything at all. As I began cleaning, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror by the bathroom doors.
"You really need to get yourself together dude. No wonder you're still single. No girl in her right mind would EVER fathom the idea of you as a potential boyfriend." Lifting up my old Alice In Chains t-shirt, I exposed my stomach.
"Gross! Lay off those cheeseburgers man." I lectured myself. I always did this, made myself feel horrible and then drowned my sorrows in thick vanilla milkshakes, greasy steak-cut french fries, and loud music.
I wish the loud music would cure it all. Take away all of the pain, tears, agony, and depression. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was fucked up and needed help. I was always there for someone else, I never accepted help easily, I admit that I am a bit stubborn. Just sometimes, I wish someone would come to my rescue, so I would stop having to be the hero all the time. I always put myself on the back burner. I learned to do just that at the very young age of fifteen, when I had been told that my oldest brother, Adam had Brain Cancer. My whole world stood still for that moment in time. I never really believed it, I always felt as if this was part of some sick, twisted nightmare and I just couldn't wait, deep down I was screaming for someone to simply pinch me.
I wiped down the bar top, gathered all of the dirty glasses, taking them into the makeshift kitchen which was equivalent to the size of a tiny apartment's kitchen. Starting the dishwasher, I slowly walked back out into the bar, looking at my watch once again. It was 4:15 am and all I could think about was my bed, and how lonely it must be without me.
I took a shot of top-shelf Jack Daniels, letting it burn all the way down my throat and began my journey back home.
1.27.2010
Rest Your Head, I'm Permanent - Chapter 2
Disclaimer: Some real people, fake story.
Amanda's POV
After ten aggravating hours of waiting, two tortuously long interviews, and a thirty minute stop-and-go drive, we were finally home once again. The thought of my soft sheets against my body intoxicated me.
"I am so freakin' beat, I am NOT cooking tonight." I said, forcing the driver's side door shut with my entire body. "And," I continued. "If I do win American Idol or a record deal, I am totally buying a new car." I often wondered how my little piece'o shit '97 White Honda Accord was still getting me from point a to point b, and sometimes even point c. Krystal just laughed like she always did when I complained about my vehicle.
"Pizza?" Krystal asked with a small grin spreading across her rounded face. I fidgeted with the apartment keys, dropping them to the ground like usual.
"You order, I pick the movie." I said as I finally found the right key, letting us into our living room, which had been left a disaster after the rushing around we did the previous morning. We were never organized, always misplacing both small and large objects.
Krystal and I lived together for the past five years, I packed up a small suitcase and moved here to Chicago as I tried to run away from the Kiss of Death as I liked to call it. Anyone I got close to seemed to die, except for Krystal. So far, she had been able to stay out of the mortal shadows that followed me. We shared a one bedroom apartment in the windy city, because it was all we could afford at the moment. It had all of the basics that we needed to survive for the most part, cramped kitchen with a breakfast bar, minuscule bathroom with the oh-so-original ocean theme, narrow hallway and of course, the living room. Which in fact, was really the only room we lived in. Honestly, we didn't mind sharing a bedroom, it was sort of like a slumber party that never ended. And, when it came to the subject of "bring boys home", we agreed that one of us would just have to sleep on the couch for the evening--which had almost become my permanent sleeping arrangement, but I didn't mind. I was sincerely happy for Krystal. She met Will about a year ago, while her and I stopped at a Starbucks for some vanilla bean frappachinos. He was the brown-haired bombshell Batista, and she fell in love almost instantly. Lets just say, she insisted that we drink a lot of coffee for about a month until he finally got the hint and asked her out. Me and my hips both thanked him, I could only endure so much caffeine and whipped cream, and I couldn't keep track of the number of hours it had been since I slept.
After some internal debate, I finally decided on the classic, Say Anything. The doorbell rung and I heard an "I'll get it!" as I turned on the TV and slid in the DVD.
"Really, Amanda?" I turned around and watched as Krystal practiced her balancing act. A tower of pizza boxes, paper plates, napkins, and two diet sodas spoke to me.
"A little help here?" It asked.
"No, no. I really want to see you do this one yourself. You did in fact say that you "got it" I said, quoting her, she truly hated my sarcasm. "And yes, really. Come on, I love this movie." I helped her set up our dinning arrangements on our beat-up coffee table. "And you have to admit, John Cusack is oh so cute in it too!" I tried defending myself, already knowing how she would react.
"You love this movie hmm? What you really love is being depressed and sobbing into your pillows at night." Krystal replied, giving me the straightest face possible, but I knew she was only joking.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." I had no witty comeback, I was always down about living the single life.
"You just had the best day of your life, and now you want to go and ruin it?" I could tell she wasn't going to let this one go.
"That was the plan." I said in a slightly sarcastic tone.
"You make no sense, whatsoever, did you know that?" She said, handing me my plate with a steaming slice of pineapple pizza, my favorite.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's why you love me." I smiled. This was comfortable, I was comfortable. This felt right, this was home. Now I wasn't so sure that I wanted to give all of this up. I realized, it could all change in the matter of months.
Amanda's POV
After ten aggravating hours of waiting, two tortuously long interviews, and a thirty minute stop-and-go drive, we were finally home once again. The thought of my soft sheets against my body intoxicated me.
"I am so freakin' beat, I am NOT cooking tonight." I said, forcing the driver's side door shut with my entire body. "And," I continued. "If I do win American Idol or a record deal, I am totally buying a new car." I often wondered how my little piece'o shit '97 White Honda Accord was still getting me from point a to point b, and sometimes even point c. Krystal just laughed like she always did when I complained about my vehicle.
"Pizza?" Krystal asked with a small grin spreading across her rounded face. I fidgeted with the apartment keys, dropping them to the ground like usual.
"You order, I pick the movie." I said as I finally found the right key, letting us into our living room, which had been left a disaster after the rushing around we did the previous morning. We were never organized, always misplacing both small and large objects.
Krystal and I lived together for the past five years, I packed up a small suitcase and moved here to Chicago as I tried to run away from the Kiss of Death as I liked to call it. Anyone I got close to seemed to die, except for Krystal. So far, she had been able to stay out of the mortal shadows that followed me. We shared a one bedroom apartment in the windy city, because it was all we could afford at the moment. It had all of the basics that we needed to survive for the most part, cramped kitchen with a breakfast bar, minuscule bathroom with the oh-so-original ocean theme, narrow hallway and of course, the living room. Which in fact, was really the only room we lived in. Honestly, we didn't mind sharing a bedroom, it was sort of like a slumber party that never ended. And, when it came to the subject of "bring boys home", we agreed that one of us would just have to sleep on the couch for the evening--which had almost become my permanent sleeping arrangement, but I didn't mind. I was sincerely happy for Krystal. She met Will about a year ago, while her and I stopped at a Starbucks for some vanilla bean frappachinos. He was the brown-haired bombshell Batista, and she fell in love almost instantly. Lets just say, she insisted that we drink a lot of coffee for about a month until he finally got the hint and asked her out. Me and my hips both thanked him, I could only endure so much caffeine and whipped cream, and I couldn't keep track of the number of hours it had been since I slept.
After some internal debate, I finally decided on the classic, Say Anything. The doorbell rung and I heard an "I'll get it!" as I turned on the TV and slid in the DVD.
"Really, Amanda?" I turned around and watched as Krystal practiced her balancing act. A tower of pizza boxes, paper plates, napkins, and two diet sodas spoke to me.
"A little help here?" It asked.
"No, no. I really want to see you do this one yourself. You did in fact say that you "got it" I said, quoting her, she truly hated my sarcasm. "And yes, really. Come on, I love this movie." I helped her set up our dinning arrangements on our beat-up coffee table. "And you have to admit, John Cusack is oh so cute in it too!" I tried defending myself, already knowing how she would react.
"You love this movie hmm? What you really love is being depressed and sobbing into your pillows at night." Krystal replied, giving me the straightest face possible, but I knew she was only joking.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." I had no witty comeback, I was always down about living the single life.
"You just had the best day of your life, and now you want to go and ruin it?" I could tell she wasn't going to let this one go.
"That was the plan." I said in a slightly sarcastic tone.
"You make no sense, whatsoever, did you know that?" She said, handing me my plate with a steaming slice of pineapple pizza, my favorite.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's why you love me." I smiled. This was comfortable, I was comfortable. This felt right, this was home. Now I wasn't so sure that I wanted to give all of this up. I realized, it could all change in the matter of months.
1.26.2010
Rest Your Head, I'm Permanent - Chapter 1
Disclaimer: Some real people, fake story.
Amanda's POV
This was it, my shot, my audition. At the last moment, walking down the hallway toward Ryan and the camera crew, toward the place that I had waited all day in a over-crowded room to gain access to, I suddenly felt the butterflies start to dance in my stomach. Somehow, I kept them at bay, as I smiled and shook Ryan's hand. He's a lot shorter then he appears on TV was my first reaction when I gazed upon the host's frame.
"So, why are you here Amanda?" He asked, which sounded like a question that he asked everyone before me. His smile was weak, I could tell he was getting tired of asking thousands of people the same questions over and over again and having to pretend like he was interesting in anything they said.
"I'm here for my friend Elizabeth. She passed away two years ago, and she always wanted me to try out for American Idol. She would always ask me to sing for her, so here I am. I'm here for her." I spilled in front of the cameras. Wow, way to go. That will surely get on TV, way to keep a low profile. I thought to myself.
"I'm sorry to hear that. The judges are ready for you, good luck." Ryan said, patting me on the shoulder and presenting me the doorway into the judging room. I thanked him and forced myself to walk across the threshold.
The bright camera lights blinded me as I walked in and was greeted by the three judges. I had to admit, I was a little starstruck. I had seen Randy, Paula, and Simon on TV for the past six years, and now I was only a few feet from them.
"H-Hello" I managed to spit out. I got a "Yo, Yo, Yo" from Randy, a beautiful, warming smile from Paula, and a firm "Hello" from Simon. I expected nothing more from him, he always seemed a little rude and cold. Yet, sometimes I suspected it was all an act for the show. I positioned myself in the middle of the small platform they had the contestants stand on. Inhale, Exhale. I told myself. Passing out isn't the latest tread, but it would make for great television.
"Do you think you are the next American Idol?" Simon asked with a dirty smirk on his face. I decided to be honest.
"My friends and family think I am." That last part pulled at my heart a little. My family had died in a tragic car accident when I was fifteen, but it still hurt to think about. I considered my closest friend Krystal to be my family. We did everything together, she was practically my sister.
"Alright, what are you going to be singing for us today?" Simon spoke again.
"6 Months by Hey Monday." I said. The song choice was something that had been on my mind for quite some time, I would often flip-flop from one song to another daily. I had only decided on this song a few hours ago out in the lobby, and still I wasn't one hundred percent sure of my decision. This song could cost my a career.
"Okay, ready when you are." Simon said. I was starting to wonder if Randy and Paula would ever talk. I cleared my throat and closed my eyes, imagining Elizabeth sitting on the edge of her bed, hugging the teddy bear I had gotten her one year for Christmas.
"You're the direction I follow to get home
when I feel like I can't go on, you tell me to go
And it's like I can't feel a think without you around
And don't mind me if I get weak in the knees
Cause you have that effect on me, you do
Everything you say, Every time we kiss I can't think straight
But I'm okay
And I can't think of anybody else who I hate to miss
As much as I hate missing you." I belted out the notes, better then I had ever done before, surprising myself.
"Wow." Paula said, practically sitting on the edge of her seat. "I don't want you to stop." I smiled, maybe this would be the one thing that would go right for me. I seemed to always have horrible luck. With guys, with jobs, with death, with everything.
"Dog, you've got mad vocals." Randy said. "I really like you, I think you've got potential."
"Thank you, thank you." I said, laughing a little. Now I turned my attention to Simon, he seemed like the hardest to please.
"I genuinely liked you, Amanda. You surprised me, I didn't think you had that kind of voice in you." This was crazy, there was no way this was happening, I wanted to pinch myself, make sure I wasn't dreaming.
"Okay Randy, Yes or no?" Simon asked.
"Yes, Yes, Yes!" Randy replied.
"Paula, Yes or no?" Simon asked again.
"Of course, you have great talent and you're very cute. I think you can make it far in this competition, if you just get more self-confidence." She answered. A smile started to grow in my face, I at least had two out of the three votes.
"I say yes. Amanda, Welcome to Hollywood." Simon said. I couldn't believe it, this had to be a dream but, I didn't want to wake up. I finally felt like maybe, just maybe I was good enough for something. I jumped excitedly up and down, I couldn't contain myself.
"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you." I said, feeling a tear begin to build up. Grabbing my golden ticket, I rushed out the door, toward Ryan, the camera crew and Krystal. We both screamed and celebrated.
"I can't believe it! I mean, I always knew you were amazing but, this is just crazy." Krystal shouted in excitement.
"I know, I know. Thank you, for being here for me." I said, feeling the tears burn my cheeks.
"Congratulations." Ryan said. "See you in Hollywood."
Amanda's POV
This was it, my shot, my audition. At the last moment, walking down the hallway toward Ryan and the camera crew, toward the place that I had waited all day in a over-crowded room to gain access to, I suddenly felt the butterflies start to dance in my stomach. Somehow, I kept them at bay, as I smiled and shook Ryan's hand. He's a lot shorter then he appears on TV was my first reaction when I gazed upon the host's frame.
"So, why are you here Amanda?" He asked, which sounded like a question that he asked everyone before me. His smile was weak, I could tell he was getting tired of asking thousands of people the same questions over and over again and having to pretend like he was interesting in anything they said.
"I'm here for my friend Elizabeth. She passed away two years ago, and she always wanted me to try out for American Idol. She would always ask me to sing for her, so here I am. I'm here for her." I spilled in front of the cameras. Wow, way to go. That will surely get on TV, way to keep a low profile. I thought to myself.
"I'm sorry to hear that. The judges are ready for you, good luck." Ryan said, patting me on the shoulder and presenting me the doorway into the judging room. I thanked him and forced myself to walk across the threshold.
The bright camera lights blinded me as I walked in and was greeted by the three judges. I had to admit, I was a little starstruck. I had seen Randy, Paula, and Simon on TV for the past six years, and now I was only a few feet from them.
"H-Hello" I managed to spit out. I got a "Yo, Yo, Yo" from Randy, a beautiful, warming smile from Paula, and a firm "Hello" from Simon. I expected nothing more from him, he always seemed a little rude and cold. Yet, sometimes I suspected it was all an act for the show. I positioned myself in the middle of the small platform they had the contestants stand on. Inhale, Exhale. I told myself. Passing out isn't the latest tread, but it would make for great television.
"Do you think you are the next American Idol?" Simon asked with a dirty smirk on his face. I decided to be honest.
"My friends and family think I am." That last part pulled at my heart a little. My family had died in a tragic car accident when I was fifteen, but it still hurt to think about. I considered my closest friend Krystal to be my family. We did everything together, she was practically my sister.
"Alright, what are you going to be singing for us today?" Simon spoke again.
"6 Months by Hey Monday." I said. The song choice was something that had been on my mind for quite some time, I would often flip-flop from one song to another daily. I had only decided on this song a few hours ago out in the lobby, and still I wasn't one hundred percent sure of my decision. This song could cost my a career.
"Okay, ready when you are." Simon said. I was starting to wonder if Randy and Paula would ever talk. I cleared my throat and closed my eyes, imagining Elizabeth sitting on the edge of her bed, hugging the teddy bear I had gotten her one year for Christmas.
"You're the direction I follow to get home
when I feel like I can't go on, you tell me to go
And it's like I can't feel a think without you around
And don't mind me if I get weak in the knees
Cause you have that effect on me, you do
Everything you say, Every time we kiss I can't think straight
But I'm okay
And I can't think of anybody else who I hate to miss
As much as I hate missing you." I belted out the notes, better then I had ever done before, surprising myself.
"Wow." Paula said, practically sitting on the edge of her seat. "I don't want you to stop." I smiled, maybe this would be the one thing that would go right for me. I seemed to always have horrible luck. With guys, with jobs, with death, with everything.
"Dog, you've got mad vocals." Randy said. "I really like you, I think you've got potential."
"Thank you, thank you." I said, laughing a little. Now I turned my attention to Simon, he seemed like the hardest to please.
"I genuinely liked you, Amanda. You surprised me, I didn't think you had that kind of voice in you." This was crazy, there was no way this was happening, I wanted to pinch myself, make sure I wasn't dreaming.
"Okay Randy, Yes or no?" Simon asked.
"Yes, Yes, Yes!" Randy replied.
"Paula, Yes or no?" Simon asked again.
"Of course, you have great talent and you're very cute. I think you can make it far in this competition, if you just get more self-confidence." She answered. A smile started to grow in my face, I at least had two out of the three votes.
"I say yes. Amanda, Welcome to Hollywood." Simon said. I couldn't believe it, this had to be a dream but, I didn't want to wake up. I finally felt like maybe, just maybe I was good enough for something. I jumped excitedly up and down, I couldn't contain myself.
"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you." I said, feeling a tear begin to build up. Grabbing my golden ticket, I rushed out the door, toward Ryan, the camera crew and Krystal. We both screamed and celebrated.
"I can't believe it! I mean, I always knew you were amazing but, this is just crazy." Krystal shouted in excitement.
"I know, I know. Thank you, for being here for me." I said, feeling the tears burn my cheeks.
"Congratulations." Ryan said. "See you in Hollywood."
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