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Before: New Year's Eve


Nick

I didn't hear from Dogface for a couple days after we got home. It'd been an awkward "see ya" when I'd dropped her off. It wasn't the first time that we'd "taken a break" after I managed to somehow disappoint her, but I found myself wondering this time if she'd be coming back. I sat in the bar in the booth we usually took and half waiting for her to show up. She didn't. I tried calling her once and left a lame voicemail telling her that, even though I wouldn't be in Los Angeles for midnight on New Years Eve (I had a show with the fellas on the East Coast), I'd still call her at midnight.

She never called back.

So off I flew to the East coast for a short spin of holiday shows with the fellas. AJ and I shared seats on the plane and we'd no sooner got our buckles on than AJ turned to me, "So... tell me about your holiday ho."

I told him this bullshit story about the flight attendant Christmas Miracle, who I said was named Betsy, and me shagging in the latrine somewhere over the midwest. We did it twice, just for good measure, I said. And I told him Dogface had high fived me when I got back to my seat and we'd drank a couple scotches on the rocks and watched Breakfast Club the rest of the way to Miami while the slightly mussed up flight attendant tried not to meet my eyes.

"Shit you always got a good story," AJ said, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat. He pulled his headphones out of his carry on bag. "Too bad that one didn't happen, huh?"

I looked at him with narrow eyes, "What do you mean?"

"You, and the flight attendant --" AJ said, "It didn't happen."

"And how do you know that?"

AJ smirked, "Because you remembered the holiday ho's name," he answered.

"Shit," I muttered.

"So, what really happened?" AJ asked, fiddling with his iPod. "What'd you do? Bang Ashley? She ain't been around in like a week."

I pulled a disgusted face, "That's sick."

"What?"

"Dogface is practically my sister, that's gross, man," I said, "I wouldn't be completely shocked if it came out somehow she was like my secret twin or something creepy like that." AJ laughed. "What? It's possible. She's a foster kid, you know, that's what happens with them kids like that. If they strike up a connection with you, it turns out it's some dark underlying sixth sense thing, you know? Like she can feel the uterus we shared."

"Now who's sick?" AJ asked with a snort of laughter.

"Well it's true," I said, "You hear about that shit happening all the damn time."

"I'm just saying you two might be more perfect for each other than you're willing to admit, that's all I'm saying."

"Well you're wrong," I answered, "Dogface and I would never work together. She doesn't like Alien, dude. That's not okay. And her taste in music? Dude. Dude. Seriously. Have you seen her iPod? It's like the place shitty bands send their CDs to keep themselves from passing into complete obscurity."

AJ rolled his eyes and started putting on his headphones.

"No seriously, man," I said, staying his wrist midway to his ears, "She has Savage Garden on there. Like the whole CD. Not just that one song that everyone liked for like a year, but the whole damn album."

AJ pressed play on his iPod.

When we landed in Connecticut, I expected to find a voicemail from Dogface on my phone when I turned it on, but there wasn't anything. Not even a text. I put my phone back in my pocket and tried to push it out of my head. I mean, who cares if she doesn't respond, right? And I got over it.

I was busy anyhow with the fellas and the fans and everything that was going on. We had shows back to back to back, including the big one on New Years Eve in Pennsylvania. It was nice getting back on stage, and I realized I missed the sweat and effort that went into touring. I had grown up on stage. I felt more alive there than I did anywhere else in the world. I did some of my best thinking there. Which is how I came to the conclusion that I had the ultimate gesture to make up with Dogface literally right at my fingertips.

Which is why at midnight, when the other guys were kissing their wives and the fans were all screaming and cheering and there was confetti flying everywhere, I dialed Dogface's cellphone number.

"Hey you've reached Ashley, I can't answer my phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll call you back as soon as I can. Bye!"

"Hello Dogface, this is Nick, and I'm calling you from the future. You're living in my three hours ago, back in 2012, and I just wanted to call you and let you know that future you forgives me for being a toolbag. I miss my wingman, Dogface. So here's my proposal! I'll be on a plane first thing in the morning. Let's you and me go out tomorrow night, none of this sitting at home watching televised celebrations crap you're doing right now. We'll party like it's 2012. I'll buy. Happy New Year, Dogface."

I hung up and looked around. Leighanne was practically climbing Brian like he was a tree, their mouths pressed together in a way I wasn't entirely sure was appropriate for Baylee, who was standing only a couple feet away blowing a noisemaker, to see. AJ was face-timing with Rochelle, a conspiracy of fans huddled around him wishing the new mommy Happy New Year as well, and Howie was speaking Spanish sexy talk to Leigh. Fans were gathered all around me, like a huddle on a football field, and I turned around and looked at them all. My eyes met one in a blue dress, covered with sequins.

Well, she wasn't my typical type, but hey. Beggers can't be choosers.




Ashley

"We'll party like it's 2012. I'll buy. Happy New Year Dogface."

I stared at the phone. On TV, the ball had just dropped in Times Square, and Ryan Seacrest was shouting and there was confetti. It looked foreign on mute, and I put the phone down on the couch cushion next to me and stared at it for a moment. I cast a glance at the Christmas tree, which I'd lit one last time.

How fucking lame was I, sitting on my couch, an empty bucket that had once contained Pork Fried Rice from my favorite Chinese delivery tipped over on my coffee table, and Rockin' New Years Eve on mute on the TV. I was thirty-two, and I'd spent the night pining after some guy that barely knew I was a female, who was a million miles away, probably jumping some unsuspecting fan's bones, even as he was leaving messages for me on my phone.

Well fuck him for assuming I was home tonight.

I got up and went into my room and opened my closet and pulled out the sluttiest looking dress I had on the rack. I threw my comfy PJs onto the bed and shimmied into the dress.

I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of just assuming I never did anything. I did stuff. Fuck him for thinking I never did stuff. Probably only called me so he didn't have to actually kiss someone at midnight. He thought that was bad luck, thought kissing at midnight meant you'd stay with that person forever, like an oath. He was superstitious about it. Nick would do anything not to kiss someone at midnight on New Years Eve.

I put my hair up and swiped color onto my lips and mascara onto my eyes. I flung my purse onto my shoulder and slid my feet into my strappiest heels and teetered down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. I walked to the bar that Nick and I frequented and I ordered a Molson on his tab and popped the cap off on the edge of the bar and I sat down in our usual booth and I breathed in the smell of cigars and alcohol, perfume and cologne that mixed in the air and stared up at the TV, which was by now showing Nashville's celebrations as the new year approached, crawling across North America towards me.

A guy approached the table. "Hey," he said.

I looked up. It was Chris, Nick's old friend.

"Hi," I answered.

Chris dropped into the booth across from me. "How's it hangin'?" he asked.

"Just fine," I replied. I took a pull off the Molson.

Chris was either really bad at picking up vibes, or he was just ignoring the shield of ice that I was mentally putting up between the two of us. He stared at me. "You're looking good tonight," he said, his voice loud to come over the music.

"Thanks," I replied.

"I'm surprised you didn't go to Pennsylvania with Nick," he said.

I shrugged, "He invited me, of course," I lied, "I just turned him down. I mean who wants to spend New Years Eve watching some lame concert with him, right? Boring! He called me at midnight, though." I laughed, a little too loudly so it sounded fake even to my ears, "Thought I'd be home. On New Years Eve! Please."

Chris nodded and took a sip of the drink he was holding.

"I'm a party girl, yessiree," I said, nodding into my beer bottle.

Chris smiled. "You meeting up with anybody?"

I contemplated. "No," I answered.

"Can I buy you another one of those?" he nodded at my Molson.

"Yeah sure, why not," I answered.