Chapter Twenty-Six
Luckily, Nick took the evening off from Operation Return of the Kevi, since he was distracted by soundcheck (and ultimately the concert), and I got some blissful hours of helping out around the stage, running wires and the like.
Rick had me set out the stools and microphones and as I was putting the dead mic into the fifth stand in front of the fifth stool that nobody would use, I felt an overwhelming urge to try it on for size. I looked around and none of the other roadies were in the front part of the stage, and the Boys were currently down taking pictures, keeping the fans and their photographer (a guy they called "two point oh" whose real name was Justin and apparently was a successor to a prior Justin, though they didn't say where the original Justin was, only that this guy was a 2.0) effectively busy.
This was my chance.
I took a deep breath, certain that, despite A+K=B-A, this might just be the thing to trigger some memories. I wasn't entirely certain what that might feel like, so I was ready for anything short of a stroke as I lowered my tushie onto the stool. My knee instinctively bent to rest on a rung, my other leg stretched to touch the floor a couple inches away. I was turned inward, toward the other stools. I reached up and put my hands on the microphone. It felt comfortable. I closed my eyes and listened... imagining the arena the way it sounded when the Boys were on stage, with all the fans out there and the music so loud it throbbed the floor of the stage like a heart beat...
"Hey get to work!" Rick's voice cut through my envisionment. I scrambled off the stool. "You got some high aspirations there, Spencer?" he called in a mocking voice. My face flushed. Brian, however, had turned at the sound of Rick's yell, barely able to see over the stage, but his eyes landed on me sitting in Kevin's place and he gave me thumbs-up and laughed, nudging Howie, who looked back, too, then leaned in to say something in Brian's ear. I quickly trotted off stage and hid in the back moving stuff around for the rest of the night.
Later that night, I was standing outside, bundled up in like three jackets because it was freezing in Vancouver, talking on my cell phone to Kim, when AJ came out the back door in a tank top and a knit skull cap. He nodded at me to acknowledge my presence, but didn't say anything upon seeing the phone, and went to work on a cigarette. I watched the orange glow of the tip and the flying ash when he knocked them off into the small cluster of snow that leaned against the building.
"So, anymore theories from Nick?" Kim asked eagerly.
"He got busy, I think he forgot about me," I laughed.
"Aww, poor thing," she laughed, too. "I still can't believe the Mickey Mouse's dog bit. I think that's my favorite part. What're you doing now that you've been left to your own devices?"
"I dunno. Talking to you." I kicked an ice ball and it skid a little ways away. AJ watched it go then went after it, like a dog playing fetch. He shuffled it between his feet like a soccer player. "Just chilling out back the venue. I think the show's over."
AJ nodded to indicate that it was, took a drag off his cigarette and kicked the ice ball back to me.
I caught it with the tip of my toe before it hit the wall of the venue, and pulled it closer, doing a slower, less bouncy version of the shuffling that AJ had done a moment before. "Is it cold in Vancouver?" Kim asked with a yawn. She'd told me to call after the show and not to think about the time because, she claimed, she had to get up early, early to open the coffee shop and a phone call from me at 2:30 was exactly the way she wanted to be awoken, but I still felt bad. I shot the ice ball back to AJ and he missed it and it went skidding along past him. He carefully trotted after it across the parking lot, waving his cigarette like a runway light as he went.
"Yeah it's pretty cold," I answered, "I'm kind of losing feeling in my fingers," I added. "There's snow."
"Ew."
"And lots of it," I added.
AJ finally had caught up to the ice ball and I told Kim I'd call her on her breakfast break at the cafe. "So tomorrow's your day," I said to AJ, tucking the phone into my pocket as he started moving the ice ball back towards me. He kicked it and I kicked it back. He actually managed to catch it with his foot this time, and he looked ridiculously proud of himself.
"Yep," he said, flourishing his catch and his words by waving his cigarette around as he spoke, "Tomorrow, we'll test the Richardson-McLean Theory of Recollection," he said.
"Oh God," I groaned, "Not you too."
"Yeah, sure," he grinned, "See, if you raise B to the power of N eight times and take K minus the L, O, S, E, R..." I must've looked pretty perplexed because AJ laughed and said, "Relax, dude, I'm shittin' you." He kicked the ice ball back to me and I got it just before it hit the wall. AJ's smoldering cigarette went out and he flicked it to the ground and crushed it under his heel, taking a deep breath and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "Christ," he muttered, "I'm freezin' my flippin' kahonies off out here. Let's go inside."
So we abandoned the ice ball and headed into the arena. We were on the way back to the dressing area where we could already hear Nick's voice echoing down the hall. "I won't e annoying like him," AJ said, referring to Nick, who was squealing loudly. It sounded like someone was torturing him. I pictured him strapped up on a rack and being stretched slowly but agonizingly. I wondered who he'd offended this time. "I got plans, though, great plans," AJ said, rubbing his hands together.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "See, last time we were in Seattle, you and me, we went to this one place and we had a great time and there's no way in frick that you could possibly not remember that." His eyes had a gleam of evil in them.
I had a sinking feeling. "What kind of place?" I asked.
AJ laughed, "Oh c'mon, you act like you don't trust me." I raised an eyebrow. "It's a strip club," he said, "A harem." He rolled his eyes, "Christ, K, you used to have a life."
The way he said it, I thought he was kidding, so I laughed.
"Jesus," I said, "I thought you were kidding."
It was less than 14 hours later and we were on the curb in front of a place that looked like Playboy threw up on it. It looked like an old time majestic theater except plastered everywhere were these posters featuring girls wearing almost nothing - burlesque style underwear covered only the bare minimu to keep it legal - in the most immoral positions known to man. My eyes were glued to the rack on one chick, whose poster heralded her as Miss Bunny Jones, the magnificent. "I can't go in here," I muttered. "You're kidding, right? You found this place and dragged me here as a joke, right? and now we're going to the real place? You're funny." I took two steps back, trying to rip my eyes from Bunny Jones and her magnificence, but it was like a tractor beam.
If I was Catholic, I'd be sayin' Hail Marys until I died for all the lust I was feeling staring at that poster.... and even then, I'd still do time in purgatory.
"Nawh dude, you and me done some of our best bonding behind these walls," AJ said with a sigh of joy.
"I honestly don't know how to take that," I said, my voice coming out pinched and quicker than usual.
"Dude, relax," AJ laughed. He tried to pull me toward the front door but my feet were planted. It was gonna take a bulldozer to push me forward.
"How in the world can you expect me to relax?" I demanded.
AJ took out a roll of dollar bills, "Is it the tips for the G-strings your worried about? 'Cos I got you covered."
"Can you cover them?" I asked, pointing to Bunny Jones.
"Now you're the funny man."
"Aren't you married?" I asked.
AJ laughed, "Well dude so aren't you."
I choked. I choked and hacked and wheezed and nearly keeled over because until he'd said it, I hadn't put the pieces together... If A+K=B-A... then.... Kristin was Kevin's wife, therefore if I was Kevin then... "No. Oh shit. Oh God. Oh God." My lungs felt like they were collapsing.
I clutched my throat.
"Dude save the theatrics, the ladies inside will give much better CPR than I would," he winked and pushed me into the club. I let him because I was so freaked out and mentally distracted realizing my own marital status and settling into complete and total panic mode. A mode which only increased once I snapped back to it and realized AJ had shoved me down onto a bar stool that was directly in front of the performer platform, which was speared in the center - right in front of me - by a tall stripper pole.
"I - I --"
AJ shoved half the roll of ones into my hands.
"I'm MARRIED?" I gasped, coughing again.
"Since 2000," AJ replied.
"But... but... but..." I stammered, my brain working faster than my mouth could possibly move. "But - but Kim..."
"No, no..." AJ said, shaking his head, "No it's Kris, dude." He paused, then his eyes lit up. "HEY!" he cried excitedly, "You like almost remembered her name, dude. See, this is working!" He grinned.
"No," I said, "No Kim is my girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" AJ asked, confused. "But dude, you're married."
"Oh God." I was fairly certain I was going to puke. A lot. Everywhere. I leaped to my feet, but the moment I did, the lights turned out completely and a hot pink spot fell on the stripper pole and the shattered fragments of reflections from a disco ball spun around the room like sex stars.
"Gentlemen," called a sultry voice, "My name is Miss. Bunny Jones and I'm here to show you a magnificent time... Who's ready?"
My eyes widened as the spot expanded and climbed up the perfectly shaped, bare leg of Bunny Jones, revealing her to be wearing a hot pink leather G-string and matching bra and a pair of pink fuzzy bunny ears on a headband.
I dropped feebly back to my chair, every ounce of will to leave had just been sucked from my body. "Fuck," I whispered because really there was nothing else to say.
"I know," AJ said, grinning, "Dude, later we'll score you a lap dance and see if that'll help your memory!"
After Self by Pengi
