Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore

Playing it Cool (Excerpt)

“You fucking idiot!”

“What?!” I screamed, trying to hear Jenn over the pounding of the speakers.  I had only managed to hear ‘fucking’ and thus was thoroughly entertaining myself with thoughts of what she could’ve said.

“I said you’re a fucking idiot!” She yelled into my ear.  “You’re over there staring off into space and you totally missed it!”

“Missed what? What the fuck are you going on about?”

“He looked right at you,” she said sternly.  “The second he saw you he got a huge smile on his face!”

“Dude,” I said, looking her dead in the eye.  “If there is any part of you that may find it amusing to fuck with me right now, it’ll be dead by morning.  Tell me you’re serious.”

After many rounds of reaping the many benefits of Jenn’s shameless flirting with the bartender, I was lucky to have been noticing anything at that point.  I had become a seasoned professional at navigating my inebriated way through club crowds, and had managed to secure us a spot directly in front of the stage (which I was conveniently using as a placeholder for my beer).  And so long as the lead singer maintained the tendency to hug the right side of the stage, I had found the perfect vantage point from which to secretly (ha!) admire The Other One during the set.  Apparently, the vantage point was a little too perfect.

I struggled with what Jenn had just told me.  What was I to do? Stand there like a moron trying to get his attention again? Perhaps not noticing was a good move on my part…a move of indifference, rather than the usual move of desperation.  Perhaps I should do…nothing.

“So what now?” Jenn asked, with a satisfied smirk on her face as the band closed out their set.  I knew they’d stick around for an encore, and I also knew that if we hung around long enough we might just run into The Other One afterwards.  “Wanna stay?”

“No,” I said, with an intense smile.  “We’re gonna go.”

“Are you serious? The guy smiles like that upon the SIGHT of you and you’re just gonna leave?”

“I’ve done the hang around thing too many times,” I said.  “I think I should just…not be here when he comes back out.  Try the whole ‘leave him hanging’ thing.”

The remnants of our road joint on the way into the city, mixed with the plethora of beers we had consumed, came together to make this by far the most logical decision of the evening.  We turned and disappeared nicely into the crowd of drunken college students and were on our way.

We ran out of the club, laughing for reasons entirely unknown, and suddenly found ourselves standing on Commonwealth Ave in the middle of a steamy August downpour.

“Race you to the car,” I challenged.

“Dude….heels…..” Jenn drunkenly pointed out.  “No good for racing.”

I ripped off my shoes and looked at her before taking off across the street, soaking wet.  Before long she was catching up to me.

“Wait…slow down for a second, hold on,” I said, stopping and catching my breath.

“What?” Jenn asked, laughing and wheezing as she lit another cigarette.

“The car’s the other way.”

“Aw, fuck.”


October 3, 2008 Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , , , | 1 Comment