Part Two
Part One
October 19th, 2009
That afternoon, Victoria was sitting in Starbucks with Jamia, who was waiting for Frank to finish for the day.
“So...” Jamia said, smirking at her.
“What?” she asked uneasily.
“You and Bob?”
“What about us?” Victoria was playing dumb. She knew exactly what she meant.
“Last night, at Gerard’s place. Come on, you were practically lying on top of each other on the couch, he drove all the way over to yours to pick you up. You’re such a good fit, seriously, tell me you haven’t noticed.”
Of course she’s noticed. She’d had her feet propped on his lap, accidentally at first. Then he said she could, he didn’t mind. She didn’t really notice when he started rubbing them, his fingers warming her toes. But then his hands seemed to be moving further and further up her calves. She glanced over at Ray and Krista, smooshed together, and abruptly sat upright again. Turns out she had a total foot thing - she thought it was just for shoes. The feeling of his warm, rough hands on her skin, and imagining them moving further and further up her legs seemed so incredibly erotic that it was about the most exciting thing that had happened to her in months. No, years.
So of course she’s noticed. She’d noticed that she had just about the biggest crush of her life, one she was way too old to be having. She just hadn’t noticed that everyone else had picked up on it. Even though she was out of the public eye now, her love life seemed to be under as much scrutiny as ever. She’s tried so hard to keep it to herself - she specifically hadn’t told anyone, and was very careful about what she said about him in front of people. Yes, they were in Starbucks all the time, but he was always there anyway, with or without her.
“What are you talking about? We’re just coffee buddies.” She suddenly really, really wished that she could smoke indoors.
“Asher, you are lying to my face. Suck it up, everyone knows. He follows you to Starbucks like a lost puppy.” Ok, back up. She thought it was her teenage crush that everyone knew about, not that this thing was actually reciprocated. Especially not that they had become everyone’s favourite couple.
“It’s ... it’s not a good idea.” She noticed Jamia looking at her incredulously, so continued. “He’s so much older than me, we’re not at the same stage in our lives. You guys are all married, and that’s about the furthest thing from my mind. And once this album’s done, they’ll be on tour again. I know what that’s like, you’re in a different city, sometimes a different country every day. And you know what, I don’t think he even likes me.”
This was only partly true. Part of what was driving Victoria to frustration was that lately, he’d been acting like such a boy ... pulling on her hair extensions to see if they would come out, and nudging her and raising his eyebrow every time a male barista took their order at Starbucks. He’s one step away from pulling at her pigtails. But then there’s other times, like when he bought her a cupcake just because it had a ladybug on it, and went to see ‘New Moon’ with her, because she had no-one else to see it with. And there’s times, when they’re on their own, and everything just seems to fit - they slot in and it just feels natural. Like this morning, when he pulled into the car lot just as she was getting out of her car. She got a real smile, not like the fake one he put on for photos - and it was a cliché but she really did feel her heart melt.
It was like they were at stalemate, no-one willing to make a move ... and they were pretty much as stubborn as each other.
Jamia was looking at her, deadpan. “These are all just excuses.”
Victoria knew she was right.
***
Bob threw down the controller. His stupid hand wasn’t what it used to be, but losing at this level was bad, even for him. He just couldn’t concentrate on anything lately.
He knew what he needed to do. He tidied the controller away, throwing it under the TV stand. He pulled a garbage bag from under the sink, and began to throw all of her stuff in it.
Throwing in her stuffed possum, and the hairbrush she liked to chew. Then he got out the vacuum, sweeping behind the furniture, under the bed, finally getting rid of that layer of black hair that he never managed to completely clean away.
That was it. Another one gone. Now he could get back to normal.
Everything was changing, and nothing was the same any more. Bob had the feeling this was a lyric from some cheesy pop song - Victoria had probably been singing it, the way she heard random songs and started singing them without realising.
He looked around the house, furnished by the label with plain, bland stuff that couldn’t offend anyone. He thought about when this album was done, and he could move back to Chicago, with his own stuff and could do what he liked to the place, including hanging up offensive words on the walls. He thought about, one day, getting another dog, and maybe a motorbike, and, as his wrist got better, building up the size of his kit.
It was when he pictured this future that Bob realised what was up. He didn’t see himself in the band any more.
***
There wasn’t a specific moment when she realised that this thing she had with Bob was actually, well, more than a thing. At first he was just that tall blond guy who used to live with Patrick Stump. Then he was the guy who went to Starbucks almost as much as she did, and the guy who always made the line more hilarious. Eventually he was the guy she thought about first thing when she woke up in the morning, and the guy who would make her want to tear her hair out, because he hadn’t asked her to come with when he went for dinner, or tried to feel her up when they were in the line for coffee.
She was acting totally irrationally anyway. With approximately zero friends except Gizmo and Ursula, it was no wonder she latched on to anyone who would still speak to her.
Although she swore it was just a high-school crush, there was something more to it. But part of her still didn’t actually believe it. That if she were to actually act on this thing she had, he’d push her away and remind her that he just wanted to be friends. Or worse, abandon their friendship altogether.
And despite the fact that she’d found she didn’t have many friends left, he had become one of her best ones. She seemed to be the only one to find the endless YouTube links funny, and when he’d poke her in the back of the head. They used to spend half the day sending each other messages on Twitter, until he got rid of his account.
She didn’t really want much - just another hug would pretty much be the best thing ever. She closed her eyes, remembered being pushed up close to his chest, his arms wrapped around her, breathing him in, and then thought about perhaps moving her hands down to ... ok, that was enough. She wished she could just have some time thoughts were unoccupied by him, some ‘me’ time.
She always joked with him about his loyalty to the colour black. She said he should wear navy, as it was just as dark. Secretly she wanted to see what it would do to his eyes. She knew it when he finally bought a shirt she has nagged him to. And then actually wore it. That had pretty much occupied her thoughts for the entire week - she lay in bed at night analysing what it meant, what he meant by doing this. Sure, he could have just liked the shirt. Or he could have done it because he just wanted her to stop nagging him.
***
In October, Victoria’s agent asked her to do a TV interview. She knew that she had been doing voice work for a movie, she just never realised that one day that movie would actually be finished. And she didn’t even play a major part in it.
But why shouldn’t she do it? It wasn’t like she was so famous that her promoting the movie could increase its sales, so it couldn’t do any harm. She knew why her agent wanted her to do it - for her to show that she was happy, successful, and hadn’t fallen into a pit of alcoholic depression, or even worse, gotten fat. It was kind of scary to think how close this had been to coming true a couple of months ago. But he was right - she had done good on the movie, which seemed to be funny and charming. She supposed she was looking kind of skinny - maybe she could get one of those Herve Leger dresses. Or even ring up one of her old college buddies who was working as a designer. She supposed she was happy, too.
She rang Bob late one night to ask his opinion. She hadn’t seen him in the studio for a couple of days, and kind of missed him. She meant to ask him straight out what he thought - turns out he had things on his mind too.
“I’m thinking of buying a motorbike.”
“Erm, why?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s, you know, a bike. It’s what dirty, hairy guys ride. Are you seriously planning on wearing...” She considered Bob wearing leather pants and quickly decided to change the subject. His leather jacket was enough. “Listen, my agent asked me if I’ll go on the Tonight Show, and ... why are you laughing?”
“Because I already know exactly what you’re thinking.”
“What?
“That you can buy a new dress and shit. I bet you want to get one of those ones that look like bandages.”
“They do not look like ... listen, I’m trying to be serious here.”
“You’re not trying very hard.”
“YOU’RE not trying very hard!” Bob laughed for a few moments, and then shut up when he realised Victoria wasn’t laughing. At least, she wasn’t trying to.
“Do you want to do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, is it about the movie, or is it about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“The interview - do they just want to talk about the movie, and your part and stuff? Or do to they want you to spill the beans on some sordid messy celebrity meltdown that you haven’t had?”
“But I haven’t had a meltdown. I’ve been good - I’m working and stuff.”
“If you want people to know you’re working, then this is the way to do it. I’m just saying, make sure this is stuff you do want people to know. If you just want people to see your dress, just put a photo on Twitpic.”
***
From MTV.com, October 31st 2009
... and Asher suggests Cobra Starship are a long way from reforming ....
Whilst rumours have been forming as fast as ever about the will they / won’t they return of Cobra Starship , and still no official announcement about whether the hiatus is permanent, Victoria Asher suggested last night that a reunion is still a long way off.
Whilst appearing on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno to promote her role in an upcoming Disney movie , the group’s keytarist Victoria said ‘the future of Cobra Starship is not something that is in my hands.”
***
Of course, there was a moment where it nearly happened, where something was wound up inside of them so tight that they nearly threw themselves at each other. It was the first time they’d discussed the hiatus, break-up, whatever. It was just the unspoken reason that had her grounded in LA.
Victoria had been invited out for Frank’s birthday. She had introduced him to Steel Panther, and he got tickets for their Halloween show on the Sunset Strip. Inevitably, after the show, Victoria found herself at the bar with Bob. Everybody else had gone to let loose on the dance floor. Bob never danced, Victoria wasn’t drunk enough to. It was just the two of them, far away from the noise, Bob resting against the bar, Victoria propped up on a stall.
“Where’s your costume?” he asked.
She smiled. She already had her answer prepared. “I’m dressed as the keytar player from Cobra Starship.” As a group, they’d gone in for the whole costume thing - she was a killer bunny last time, although for some reason they hadn’t bothered the year before. Bob was wearing pretty much the same hoodie he had worn every day since she’d moved to LA. At least she had changed clothes.
“So, I heard about Leno...”
She knew he hadn’t seen it, he’d been texting her from the studio until late. It must have turned up on the news or something, unless he’d looked for it on YouTube.
“You heard what?” Victoria pulled herself further back on her stall, ostensibly to sit up straighter, but also to move herself away from him a bit.
“That you’ve given up.” She looked up, and found him staring straight at her. She didn’t like where this conversation was going - it was cutting far too close to reality, to the truth. She stared back, challenging him.
“That’s not what I said.”
“I’ve never known you to sit there and not just do anything, like you’ve got no power over what happens to you. You can change things. If you want to.”
Victoria looked over at the band, silently. She didn’t say anything because she wasn’t interested. Not really. “Maybe you can try and try, but you’ll still never get anywhere.”
“Are we still talking about you, or are you going to keep beating this metaphor to death?” He leaned between her and the bar to put his drink down.
“lt’s not strictly ... you’ve been watching Dawson’s Creek, haven’t you?”
He gave her a small smile. “I’m obviously spending too much time with you.” His face was inches from hers, and for a moment they just stared at each other, suspended in time. And then they then realised they were in the middle of a crowded bar.
Bob mumbled something about going to the bathroom. Victoria just sat, breathing slowly.
***
Victoria paid the cab driver and ran outside, rubbing her cold arms. She flopped on to the bed, laptop in front of her, to watch the interview over. Gizmo jumped up on to the bed, trying to snuggle up to her side. She absentmindedly lifted her arm so he could crawl under it, absorbed with the screen. She slammed the lid down and Gizmo jumped a little, burying his nose into her sweater. Was that it? It made it all sound just so easy, so fast. And they introduced her as Vicky. Again. When she told them not to.
And MTV totally got it wrong - that wasn’t what she said. Not directly, anyway.
She didn’t want to get into a funk about it late at night, when it would only stop her sleeping. She decided that she would unpack a couple of boxes ... but looked at them stacked up against the wall, and decided that she couldn’t be bothered. She vaguely considered tidying them up a bit (not actually unpacking, mind, just moving them out of the way so they looked tidier) when she was saved by her phone ringing. It was Jamia.
She could tell it was her, and that she was drunk, by her giggling.
“Hello?”
“What happened with you two? I looked over and you were practically smooshed together, next thing he’s all brooding and Heathcliff, and you’re telling me it’s late and you’ll get a cab home. I have never, NEVER, known you to go home first. EVER!” There was a small crash as she tripped over something.
“Are you at home?”
“Did you have a fight or something? A lover’s tiff? Cos you would tell me, right?”
“Look, you need to let this thing go.”
“Let it go?”
“Yeah. It’s not gonna happen.”
***
When Bob turned 30, he was adamant he wanted no fuss, no big deal made of it. It was just the same as any other birthday. It was New Year’s anyway, no need to plan a big celebration. Of course, Frank chose to ignore this - at least he had the decency to invite everyone he knew to a bar, rather than Bob’s house, inviting only a few home for midnight drinks. He’d learned by now not to cross Bob.
Just before 12, Victoria went upstairs to get her jacket so she could go outside to watch the fireworks. She heard Bob come in to his bedroom as she was rooting around in a pile for her coat. “Why do people always put coats on the bed? Why can’t they just throw them all over a chair or something?” She asked, throwing whatever wasn’t hers on the floor.
“That’s my laundry you’re throwing around, everyone else is outside with their coats. Look, here it is.” He said, holding it out to her.
“There’s like 30 seconds left to midnight. How ironic, I’m going to be late for New Years.“
“Just watch the fireworks from here” Bob said, moving over to the window.
She felt herself calm down completely, the slight drunkenness inclining her to lean against Bob’s side, watching the fireworks come to life, lighting up the sky.
“Happy New Year.”
She really didn’t know who leaned forward, who initiated it, but she did remember exactly how it felt, pressed up to him as close as possible, his arms around her back. How it was slow, and how his tongue felt stroking against hers, whilst she held her hand against his cheek, keeping him in place. She couldn’t imagine actually letting go of him. She had no sense of how much time had passed when he finally pulled away. “Come here” he murmured, his forehead against hers, gesturing towards the bed.
Normally, she would have said no. Not just because she was a nice girl who had morals, but because she wanted the anticipation of what was still to come. She’d been waiting for this for what seemed like forever, so a little extra time wouldn’t harm anything. But it was his birthday. Yes, it would be cruel to deny him of sex on his birthday. And she could feel he wanted it. She could feel it against her leg.
Of course, there was the fact that technically it wasn’t his birthday any more. And the fact that she wanted it just as much as him.
She had wondered what Bob Bryar would be like in bed, admittedly long before this whole thing had even started. It was because he was such a mass of contradictions - big enough that he could shove her up against a wall and fuck her senseless, but yet placid and calm, like he’d let her tie him down if she wanted. He had a scathing tongue and could cut up anyone who crossed him, yet he adopted poor abandoned dogs. This definitely made her curious.
As it goes, it was slow and intense. And hard. Oh my god, so hard. In a good way. He seemed to concentrate on fucking her in the same intense, focused way he seemed to concentrate on everything else. Feeling his breathing on her neck, the way he would let out little gasps, made her shudder. She pushed her legs further apart, him pressing deeper inside of her, both groaning and breathless.
She felt all the breath wrenched from her body as she came, clenching hard around him, head tilting back into the pillows. He didn’t take long, coming with a choked groan. Her arms ached and she moved them from his shoulders, down to his hips. He lay half on top of her for a few moments, his breath steadying. He kept his body still but moved his face towards hers and they kissed, slowly, uncoordinated but tenderly. He closed his eyes for a minute, and then pulled himself up onto his elbows.
She meant to get up and leave while Bob was in the bathroom - but the fact that it was so late and the intensity of it all meant that she fell asleep while he was still in the bathroom. She woke the next morning, opening her eyes to see four white forearms across her stomach. She smiled as she inhaled his smell, feeling the bruises forming on her hips, remembering the feeling of him inside of her ... and a small flood of panic ran through her as her Catholic instincts set in - she’d just slept with him, no resistance, not even a drink first. Was she a total slut? She heard a small noise, a cross between a sigh and a groan as she felt the arms around her tighten and Bob start to stir. A wave of relief rushed over her as she felt Bob’s lips move towards her ear, mumbling ‘good morning’, voice croaky with sleep. She knew it was ok. More than ok.
“Are you getting me coffee?” she mumbled against his side. He got her more than coffee, actually. While she was in the shower he managed to get to Starbucks and back, plus make her eggs. Victoria thought it was a little too good to be true.
***
It was an unspoken agreement between them that they didn’t tell anyone. Partly because they both wanted to keep things off of the internet, and partly because Victoria knew how much Jamia would shriek and beg her for all the details.
One night Mikey had invited her to play poker at his house with everyone else. However he got so distracted by the new Ghostbusters trailer that the deck never got split. She found herself sat on the floor in front of the couch, Gizmo sprawled over half of her lap, Piglet on the other. Ray and Christa, who had flown to LA that day, were all over each other. Christa had finally agreed to let Bauer spend a weekend at the vet’s, and being back in the same state was kind of a novelty.
Victoria felt how strange it was that there was so much distance between them, yet he’d had his dick, or his tongue or his fingers inside of her at some point over the last 12 hours. Bob was with Mikey, at the kitchen table. As if he could hear her thoughts, he turned around and grinned at her.
They had sex so often because she was lonely - because she had no-one, and Bob, Bob, naked, in her bed, inside of her, was exactly what she needed. The fact that it was in the shower and slow, her legs wound tightly around him as he eased himself in and out of her, or in bed, her looking down at him whilst his hands dug into her hips was an added bonus.
With Ray back in LA, they knew that Bob would be in the studio most nights. They generally stayed until they were so tired they physically couldn’t do anymore, and started again the next day around lunch time - when Gerard had finally woken up and they’d consumed enough coffee to sustain them. Victoria generally worked no later than 7, so they knew that last night would be the only evening they could have together for a few weeks. Victoria thought that maybe he’d want to get a takeout or go to a movie when he came over, but it turns out they were both a little desperate. They’d managed to exchange about two sentences before he took her wrists and pinned her to the wall, kissing her thoroughly and pushing his whole body against her. They’d managed to make it into her bed, losing their clothes as they went, unwilling to let go of each other. He’d pinned her to the bed, kissing her desperately, her parting her legs and wrapping them around him, tilting her hips up towards his. He’d only had to lean forward to slide inside of her, moaning into her mouth. He’d fucked her hard, both gasping and panting. The groan she had let out as she came was one he hadn’t managed to get out of her before, and feeling her body writhe underneath him knocked him into his orgasm.
Later, when he was in the bathroom, she laid on her side, looking out of the undrawn curtains, the moon light over the roof of next door’s garage. For some reason, she started thinking about his ex-girlfriend, wondering what had happened. Even though they were friends, it was the one thing they never talked about, even though she kind of wanted to know. She was feeling a little anxious when he returned, but he lay down behind her, pressing his body close towards hers, warming where it had cooled. He ran his hand across the top of her arm, moving to her chin and tipping her face towards his. They started at each other for a minute.
“You’re so beautiful...” he had murmured, watching the blush rise to her cheeks, before softly pressing his lips to hers. Even though it had been minutes since they’d last kissed, she couldn’t help but thread her fingers through his hair, pulling him in deeper, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He hadn’t let her turn over, pushing her gently back on to her side when they were both ready, grabbing her hip, burying his face into her neck as he pushed inside of her, listening to her gasps and groans increase. She couldn’t normally come more than once, but with the earnest, wide-eyed way he was looking at her, she couldn’t not let him fuck her again. As it turns out, her being so soft and wet left her hyper-sensitive, and coming just as intensely as before.
Yes, it was a lot harder to feel lonely with Bob lying on top of her, limbs entwined, breathing slowing.
***
Victoria froze, staring at the letter. She had only just walked in the door - the coffee pot was on, and she had half undressed, down to a vest and her stockings. Bob was on his way over and she wanted to jump in the shower quickly.
It was a letter from Fueled By Ramen. Notice that their deal had ended. All she had to do was sign and Cobra Starship was over. She felt like the wife whose husband had been the adulterer. Yet she was suffering all the same. Other people had fucked everything up, but she still had to deal with it.
She wanted to take the damn thing and tear it into a thousand tiny pieces. Except she had the feeling it was something she should really hold onto, and perhaps, read and sign or something. Instead she took out her rage on the magic 8 ball on the kitchen counter. She’d had it since she was a kid, even though she never used it. She shook and shook it, mumbling, should I sign ... should I sign. Ask again later. Victoria wanted to take the damn thing and throw it through the TV screen. It never said what she wanted it to.
Cobra Starship had taken over her life before she had even finished school. She had lived and breathed the band for nearly three years, and now she was 25 and it had all been taken away from her. She was practically building her life from scratch - friends that weren’t Alex’s, wearing sweaters that weren’t Gabe’s, eating eggs that weren’t made by Ryland ... a city that wasn’t theirs, and a history that she shared with all of them.
It fucking sucked. A lot.
***
It was obvious to everyone that it hadn’t been a good night. Her pitch was off, she fluffed half of her lines ... the engineers asked if she was hungover. She couldn’t help feeling like she’d been taking baby steps forward, moving out of New York, getting a job and a boyfriend or whatever, and then been dealt a giant step back.
She’d phoned Bob that night and told him not to come over, because she had a headache. He’d started to argue with her - that he should come over anyway and bring over some asprin, but he quickly got the fact that this was Not Negotiable. He’d come over the next morning instead, under the pretence of having ran out of milk. Since he was there, he may as well give her a ride to work he said, pouring out his cereal. Well, the only cereal. And the milk was only just ok.
She looked pale too, washed out. Her hair was scraped back and she forgot to put a belt on with her dress, so it was hanging limply around her middle. She didn’t have on all the bangles and stuff that were just, well, her. Gizmo was sitting on her feet, peering up at her.
“Are you ok?” Bob asked.
“Hmm. I mean, yeah.” He so didn’t believe her.
“Where are your keys?”
“Look in my purse, it’s over there.” It may have been Marc Jacobs, but it was overflowing with candy wrappers and Gizmo’s toys.
“How much shit have you got in here?”
“I’m out all day. I need stuff.” This was supposed to be a playful conversation, like they always had. Something about the way she wasn’t looking at him, and the corners of her eyes weren’t turning up, said otherwise.
“I found them, so we can go now, okay?”
Part Three
October 19th, 2009
That afternoon, Victoria was sitting in Starbucks with Jamia, who was waiting for Frank to finish for the day.
“So...” Jamia said, smirking at her.
“What?” she asked uneasily.
“You and Bob?”
“What about us?” Victoria was playing dumb. She knew exactly what she meant.
“Last night, at Gerard’s place. Come on, you were practically lying on top of each other on the couch, he drove all the way over to yours to pick you up. You’re such a good fit, seriously, tell me you haven’t noticed.”
Of course she’s noticed. She’d had her feet propped on his lap, accidentally at first. Then he said she could, he didn’t mind. She didn’t really notice when he started rubbing them, his fingers warming her toes. But then his hands seemed to be moving further and further up her calves. She glanced over at Ray and Krista, smooshed together, and abruptly sat upright again. Turns out she had a total foot thing - she thought it was just for shoes. The feeling of his warm, rough hands on her skin, and imagining them moving further and further up her legs seemed so incredibly erotic that it was about the most exciting thing that had happened to her in months. No, years.
So of course she’s noticed. She’d noticed that she had just about the biggest crush of her life, one she was way too old to be having. She just hadn’t noticed that everyone else had picked up on it. Even though she was out of the public eye now, her love life seemed to be under as much scrutiny as ever. She’s tried so hard to keep it to herself - she specifically hadn’t told anyone, and was very careful about what she said about him in front of people. Yes, they were in Starbucks all the time, but he was always there anyway, with or without her.
“What are you talking about? We’re just coffee buddies.” She suddenly really, really wished that she could smoke indoors.
“Asher, you are lying to my face. Suck it up, everyone knows. He follows you to Starbucks like a lost puppy.” Ok, back up. She thought it was her teenage crush that everyone knew about, not that this thing was actually reciprocated. Especially not that they had become everyone’s favourite couple.
“It’s ... it’s not a good idea.” She noticed Jamia looking at her incredulously, so continued. “He’s so much older than me, we’re not at the same stage in our lives. You guys are all married, and that’s about the furthest thing from my mind. And once this album’s done, they’ll be on tour again. I know what that’s like, you’re in a different city, sometimes a different country every day. And you know what, I don’t think he even likes me.”
This was only partly true. Part of what was driving Victoria to frustration was that lately, he’d been acting like such a boy ... pulling on her hair extensions to see if they would come out, and nudging her and raising his eyebrow every time a male barista took their order at Starbucks. He’s one step away from pulling at her pigtails. But then there’s other times, like when he bought her a cupcake just because it had a ladybug on it, and went to see ‘New Moon’ with her, because she had no-one else to see it with. And there’s times, when they’re on their own, and everything just seems to fit - they slot in and it just feels natural. Like this morning, when he pulled into the car lot just as she was getting out of her car. She got a real smile, not like the fake one he put on for photos - and it was a cliché but she really did feel her heart melt.
It was like they were at stalemate, no-one willing to make a move ... and they were pretty much as stubborn as each other.
Jamia was looking at her, deadpan. “These are all just excuses.”
Victoria knew she was right.
***
Bob threw down the controller. His stupid hand wasn’t what it used to be, but losing at this level was bad, even for him. He just couldn’t concentrate on anything lately.
He knew what he needed to do. He tidied the controller away, throwing it under the TV stand. He pulled a garbage bag from under the sink, and began to throw all of her stuff in it.
Throwing in her stuffed possum, and the hairbrush she liked to chew. Then he got out the vacuum, sweeping behind the furniture, under the bed, finally getting rid of that layer of black hair that he never managed to completely clean away.
That was it. Another one gone. Now he could get back to normal.
Everything was changing, and nothing was the same any more. Bob had the feeling this was a lyric from some cheesy pop song - Victoria had probably been singing it, the way she heard random songs and started singing them without realising.
He looked around the house, furnished by the label with plain, bland stuff that couldn’t offend anyone. He thought about when this album was done, and he could move back to Chicago, with his own stuff and could do what he liked to the place, including hanging up offensive words on the walls. He thought about, one day, getting another dog, and maybe a motorbike, and, as his wrist got better, building up the size of his kit.
It was when he pictured this future that Bob realised what was up. He didn’t see himself in the band any more.
***
There wasn’t a specific moment when she realised that this thing she had with Bob was actually, well, more than a thing. At first he was just that tall blond guy who used to live with Patrick Stump. Then he was the guy who went to Starbucks almost as much as she did, and the guy who always made the line more hilarious. Eventually he was the guy she thought about first thing when she woke up in the morning, and the guy who would make her want to tear her hair out, because he hadn’t asked her to come with when he went for dinner, or tried to feel her up when they were in the line for coffee.
She was acting totally irrationally anyway. With approximately zero friends except Gizmo and Ursula, it was no wonder she latched on to anyone who would still speak to her.
Although she swore it was just a high-school crush, there was something more to it. But part of her still didn’t actually believe it. That if she were to actually act on this thing she had, he’d push her away and remind her that he just wanted to be friends. Or worse, abandon their friendship altogether.
And despite the fact that she’d found she didn’t have many friends left, he had become one of her best ones. She seemed to be the only one to find the endless YouTube links funny, and when he’d poke her in the back of the head. They used to spend half the day sending each other messages on Twitter, until he got rid of his account.
She didn’t really want much - just another hug would pretty much be the best thing ever. She closed her eyes, remembered being pushed up close to his chest, his arms wrapped around her, breathing him in, and then thought about perhaps moving her hands down to ... ok, that was enough. She wished she could just have some time thoughts were unoccupied by him, some ‘me’ time.
She always joked with him about his loyalty to the colour black. She said he should wear navy, as it was just as dark. Secretly she wanted to see what it would do to his eyes. She knew it when he finally bought a shirt she has nagged him to. And then actually wore it. That had pretty much occupied her thoughts for the entire week - she lay in bed at night analysing what it meant, what he meant by doing this. Sure, he could have just liked the shirt. Or he could have done it because he just wanted her to stop nagging him.
***
In October, Victoria’s agent asked her to do a TV interview. She knew that she had been doing voice work for a movie, she just never realised that one day that movie would actually be finished. And she didn’t even play a major part in it.
But why shouldn’t she do it? It wasn’t like she was so famous that her promoting the movie could increase its sales, so it couldn’t do any harm. She knew why her agent wanted her to do it - for her to show that she was happy, successful, and hadn’t fallen into a pit of alcoholic depression, or even worse, gotten fat. It was kind of scary to think how close this had been to coming true a couple of months ago. But he was right - she had done good on the movie, which seemed to be funny and charming. She supposed she was looking kind of skinny - maybe she could get one of those Herve Leger dresses. Or even ring up one of her old college buddies who was working as a designer. She supposed she was happy, too.
She rang Bob late one night to ask his opinion. She hadn’t seen him in the studio for a couple of days, and kind of missed him. She meant to ask him straight out what he thought - turns out he had things on his mind too.
“I’m thinking of buying a motorbike.”
“Erm, why?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s, you know, a bike. It’s what dirty, hairy guys ride. Are you seriously planning on wearing...” She considered Bob wearing leather pants and quickly decided to change the subject. His leather jacket was enough. “Listen, my agent asked me if I’ll go on the Tonight Show, and ... why are you laughing?”
“Because I already know exactly what you’re thinking.”
“What?
“That you can buy a new dress and shit. I bet you want to get one of those ones that look like bandages.”
“They do not look like ... listen, I’m trying to be serious here.”
“You’re not trying very hard.”
“YOU’RE not trying very hard!” Bob laughed for a few moments, and then shut up when he realised Victoria wasn’t laughing. At least, she wasn’t trying to.
“Do you want to do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, is it about the movie, or is it about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“The interview - do they just want to talk about the movie, and your part and stuff? Or do to they want you to spill the beans on some sordid messy celebrity meltdown that you haven’t had?”
“But I haven’t had a meltdown. I’ve been good - I’m working and stuff.”
“If you want people to know you’re working, then this is the way to do it. I’m just saying, make sure this is stuff you do want people to know. If you just want people to see your dress, just put a photo on Twitpic.”
***
From MTV.com, October 31st 2009
... and Asher suggests Cobra Starship are a long way from reforming ....
Whilst rumours have been forming as fast as ever about the will they / won’t they return of Cobra Starship , and still no official announcement about whether the hiatus is permanent, Victoria Asher suggested last night that a reunion is still a long way off.
Whilst appearing on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno to promote her role in an upcoming Disney movie , the group’s keytarist Victoria said ‘the future of Cobra Starship is not something that is in my hands.”
***
Of course, there was a moment where it nearly happened, where something was wound up inside of them so tight that they nearly threw themselves at each other. It was the first time they’d discussed the hiatus, break-up, whatever. It was just the unspoken reason that had her grounded in LA.
Victoria had been invited out for Frank’s birthday. She had introduced him to Steel Panther, and he got tickets for their Halloween show on the Sunset Strip. Inevitably, after the show, Victoria found herself at the bar with Bob. Everybody else had gone to let loose on the dance floor. Bob never danced, Victoria wasn’t drunk enough to. It was just the two of them, far away from the noise, Bob resting against the bar, Victoria propped up on a stall.
“Where’s your costume?” he asked.
She smiled. She already had her answer prepared. “I’m dressed as the keytar player from Cobra Starship.” As a group, they’d gone in for the whole costume thing - she was a killer bunny last time, although for some reason they hadn’t bothered the year before. Bob was wearing pretty much the same hoodie he had worn every day since she’d moved to LA. At least she had changed clothes.
“So, I heard about Leno...”
She knew he hadn’t seen it, he’d been texting her from the studio until late. It must have turned up on the news or something, unless he’d looked for it on YouTube.
“You heard what?” Victoria pulled herself further back on her stall, ostensibly to sit up straighter, but also to move herself away from him a bit.
“That you’ve given up.” She looked up, and found him staring straight at her. She didn’t like where this conversation was going - it was cutting far too close to reality, to the truth. She stared back, challenging him.
“That’s not what I said.”
“I’ve never known you to sit there and not just do anything, like you’ve got no power over what happens to you. You can change things. If you want to.”
Victoria looked over at the band, silently. She didn’t say anything because she wasn’t interested. Not really. “Maybe you can try and try, but you’ll still never get anywhere.”
“Are we still talking about you, or are you going to keep beating this metaphor to death?” He leaned between her and the bar to put his drink down.
“lt’s not strictly ... you’ve been watching Dawson’s Creek, haven’t you?”
He gave her a small smile. “I’m obviously spending too much time with you.” His face was inches from hers, and for a moment they just stared at each other, suspended in time. And then they then realised they were in the middle of a crowded bar.
Bob mumbled something about going to the bathroom. Victoria just sat, breathing slowly.
***
Victoria paid the cab driver and ran outside, rubbing her cold arms. She flopped on to the bed, laptop in front of her, to watch the interview over. Gizmo jumped up on to the bed, trying to snuggle up to her side. She absentmindedly lifted her arm so he could crawl under it, absorbed with the screen. She slammed the lid down and Gizmo jumped a little, burying his nose into her sweater. Was that it? It made it all sound just so easy, so fast. And they introduced her as Vicky. Again. When she told them not to.
And MTV totally got it wrong - that wasn’t what she said. Not directly, anyway.
She didn’t want to get into a funk about it late at night, when it would only stop her sleeping. She decided that she would unpack a couple of boxes ... but looked at them stacked up against the wall, and decided that she couldn’t be bothered. She vaguely considered tidying them up a bit (not actually unpacking, mind, just moving them out of the way so they looked tidier) when she was saved by her phone ringing. It was Jamia.
She could tell it was her, and that she was drunk, by her giggling.
“Hello?”
“What happened with you two? I looked over and you were practically smooshed together, next thing he’s all brooding and Heathcliff, and you’re telling me it’s late and you’ll get a cab home. I have never, NEVER, known you to go home first. EVER!” There was a small crash as she tripped over something.
“Are you at home?”
“Did you have a fight or something? A lover’s tiff? Cos you would tell me, right?”
“Look, you need to let this thing go.”
“Let it go?”
“Yeah. It’s not gonna happen.”
***
When Bob turned 30, he was adamant he wanted no fuss, no big deal made of it. It was just the same as any other birthday. It was New Year’s anyway, no need to plan a big celebration. Of course, Frank chose to ignore this - at least he had the decency to invite everyone he knew to a bar, rather than Bob’s house, inviting only a few home for midnight drinks. He’d learned by now not to cross Bob.
Just before 12, Victoria went upstairs to get her jacket so she could go outside to watch the fireworks. She heard Bob come in to his bedroom as she was rooting around in a pile for her coat. “Why do people always put coats on the bed? Why can’t they just throw them all over a chair or something?” She asked, throwing whatever wasn’t hers on the floor.
“That’s my laundry you’re throwing around, everyone else is outside with their coats. Look, here it is.” He said, holding it out to her.
“There’s like 30 seconds left to midnight. How ironic, I’m going to be late for New Years.“
“Just watch the fireworks from here” Bob said, moving over to the window.
She felt herself calm down completely, the slight drunkenness inclining her to lean against Bob’s side, watching the fireworks come to life, lighting up the sky.
“Happy New Year.”
She really didn’t know who leaned forward, who initiated it, but she did remember exactly how it felt, pressed up to him as close as possible, his arms around her back. How it was slow, and how his tongue felt stroking against hers, whilst she held her hand against his cheek, keeping him in place. She couldn’t imagine actually letting go of him. She had no sense of how much time had passed when he finally pulled away. “Come here” he murmured, his forehead against hers, gesturing towards the bed.
Normally, she would have said no. Not just because she was a nice girl who had morals, but because she wanted the anticipation of what was still to come. She’d been waiting for this for what seemed like forever, so a little extra time wouldn’t harm anything. But it was his birthday. Yes, it would be cruel to deny him of sex on his birthday. And she could feel he wanted it. She could feel it against her leg.
Of course, there was the fact that technically it wasn’t his birthday any more. And the fact that she wanted it just as much as him.
She had wondered what Bob Bryar would be like in bed, admittedly long before this whole thing had even started. It was because he was such a mass of contradictions - big enough that he could shove her up against a wall and fuck her senseless, but yet placid and calm, like he’d let her tie him down if she wanted. He had a scathing tongue and could cut up anyone who crossed him, yet he adopted poor abandoned dogs. This definitely made her curious.
As it goes, it was slow and intense. And hard. Oh my god, so hard. In a good way. He seemed to concentrate on fucking her in the same intense, focused way he seemed to concentrate on everything else. Feeling his breathing on her neck, the way he would let out little gasps, made her shudder. She pushed her legs further apart, him pressing deeper inside of her, both groaning and breathless.
She felt all the breath wrenched from her body as she came, clenching hard around him, head tilting back into the pillows. He didn’t take long, coming with a choked groan. Her arms ached and she moved them from his shoulders, down to his hips. He lay half on top of her for a few moments, his breath steadying. He kept his body still but moved his face towards hers and they kissed, slowly, uncoordinated but tenderly. He closed his eyes for a minute, and then pulled himself up onto his elbows.
She meant to get up and leave while Bob was in the bathroom - but the fact that it was so late and the intensity of it all meant that she fell asleep while he was still in the bathroom. She woke the next morning, opening her eyes to see four white forearms across her stomach. She smiled as she inhaled his smell, feeling the bruises forming on her hips, remembering the feeling of him inside of her ... and a small flood of panic ran through her as her Catholic instincts set in - she’d just slept with him, no resistance, not even a drink first. Was she a total slut? She heard a small noise, a cross between a sigh and a groan as she felt the arms around her tighten and Bob start to stir. A wave of relief rushed over her as she felt Bob’s lips move towards her ear, mumbling ‘good morning’, voice croaky with sleep. She knew it was ok. More than ok.
“Are you getting me coffee?” she mumbled against his side. He got her more than coffee, actually. While she was in the shower he managed to get to Starbucks and back, plus make her eggs. Victoria thought it was a little too good to be true.
***
It was an unspoken agreement between them that they didn’t tell anyone. Partly because they both wanted to keep things off of the internet, and partly because Victoria knew how much Jamia would shriek and beg her for all the details.
One night Mikey had invited her to play poker at his house with everyone else. However he got so distracted by the new Ghostbusters trailer that the deck never got split. She found herself sat on the floor in front of the couch, Gizmo sprawled over half of her lap, Piglet on the other. Ray and Christa, who had flown to LA that day, were all over each other. Christa had finally agreed to let Bauer spend a weekend at the vet’s, and being back in the same state was kind of a novelty.
Victoria felt how strange it was that there was so much distance between them, yet he’d had his dick, or his tongue or his fingers inside of her at some point over the last 12 hours. Bob was with Mikey, at the kitchen table. As if he could hear her thoughts, he turned around and grinned at her.
They had sex so often because she was lonely - because she had no-one, and Bob, Bob, naked, in her bed, inside of her, was exactly what she needed. The fact that it was in the shower and slow, her legs wound tightly around him as he eased himself in and out of her, or in bed, her looking down at him whilst his hands dug into her hips was an added bonus.
With Ray back in LA, they knew that Bob would be in the studio most nights. They generally stayed until they were so tired they physically couldn’t do anymore, and started again the next day around lunch time - when Gerard had finally woken up and they’d consumed enough coffee to sustain them. Victoria generally worked no later than 7, so they knew that last night would be the only evening they could have together for a few weeks. Victoria thought that maybe he’d want to get a takeout or go to a movie when he came over, but it turns out they were both a little desperate. They’d managed to exchange about two sentences before he took her wrists and pinned her to the wall, kissing her thoroughly and pushing his whole body against her. They’d managed to make it into her bed, losing their clothes as they went, unwilling to let go of each other. He’d pinned her to the bed, kissing her desperately, her parting her legs and wrapping them around him, tilting her hips up towards his. He’d only had to lean forward to slide inside of her, moaning into her mouth. He’d fucked her hard, both gasping and panting. The groan she had let out as she came was one he hadn’t managed to get out of her before, and feeling her body writhe underneath him knocked him into his orgasm.
Later, when he was in the bathroom, she laid on her side, looking out of the undrawn curtains, the moon light over the roof of next door’s garage. For some reason, she started thinking about his ex-girlfriend, wondering what had happened. Even though they were friends, it was the one thing they never talked about, even though she kind of wanted to know. She was feeling a little anxious when he returned, but he lay down behind her, pressing his body close towards hers, warming where it had cooled. He ran his hand across the top of her arm, moving to her chin and tipping her face towards his. They started at each other for a minute.
“You’re so beautiful...” he had murmured, watching the blush rise to her cheeks, before softly pressing his lips to hers. Even though it had been minutes since they’d last kissed, she couldn’t help but thread her fingers through his hair, pulling him in deeper, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He hadn’t let her turn over, pushing her gently back on to her side when they were both ready, grabbing her hip, burying his face into her neck as he pushed inside of her, listening to her gasps and groans increase. She couldn’t normally come more than once, but with the earnest, wide-eyed way he was looking at her, she couldn’t not let him fuck her again. As it turns out, her being so soft and wet left her hyper-sensitive, and coming just as intensely as before.
Yes, it was a lot harder to feel lonely with Bob lying on top of her, limbs entwined, breathing slowing.
***
Victoria froze, staring at the letter. She had only just walked in the door - the coffee pot was on, and she had half undressed, down to a vest and her stockings. Bob was on his way over and she wanted to jump in the shower quickly.
It was a letter from Fueled By Ramen. Notice that their deal had ended. All she had to do was sign and Cobra Starship was over. She felt like the wife whose husband had been the adulterer. Yet she was suffering all the same. Other people had fucked everything up, but she still had to deal with it.
She wanted to take the damn thing and tear it into a thousand tiny pieces. Except she had the feeling it was something she should really hold onto, and perhaps, read and sign or something. Instead she took out her rage on the magic 8 ball on the kitchen counter. She’d had it since she was a kid, even though she never used it. She shook and shook it, mumbling, should I sign ... should I sign. Ask again later. Victoria wanted to take the damn thing and throw it through the TV screen. It never said what she wanted it to.
Cobra Starship had taken over her life before she had even finished school. She had lived and breathed the band for nearly three years, and now she was 25 and it had all been taken away from her. She was practically building her life from scratch - friends that weren’t Alex’s, wearing sweaters that weren’t Gabe’s, eating eggs that weren’t made by Ryland ... a city that wasn’t theirs, and a history that she shared with all of them.
It fucking sucked. A lot.
***
It was obvious to everyone that it hadn’t been a good night. Her pitch was off, she fluffed half of her lines ... the engineers asked if she was hungover. She couldn’t help feeling like she’d been taking baby steps forward, moving out of New York, getting a job and a boyfriend or whatever, and then been dealt a giant step back.
She’d phoned Bob that night and told him not to come over, because she had a headache. He’d started to argue with her - that he should come over anyway and bring over some asprin, but he quickly got the fact that this was Not Negotiable. He’d come over the next morning instead, under the pretence of having ran out of milk. Since he was there, he may as well give her a ride to work he said, pouring out his cereal. Well, the only cereal. And the milk was only just ok.
She looked pale too, washed out. Her hair was scraped back and she forgot to put a belt on with her dress, so it was hanging limply around her middle. She didn’t have on all the bangles and stuff that were just, well, her. Gizmo was sitting on her feet, peering up at her.
“Are you ok?” Bob asked.
“Hmm. I mean, yeah.” He so didn’t believe her.
“Where are your keys?”
“Look in my purse, it’s over there.” It may have been Marc Jacobs, but it was overflowing with candy wrappers and Gizmo’s toys.
“How much shit have you got in here?”
“I’m out all day. I need stuff.” This was supposed to be a playful conversation, like they always had. Something about the way she wasn’t looking at him, and the corners of her eyes weren’t turning up, said otherwise.
“I found them, so we can go now, okay?”
Part Three