Chapter Twenty-Six: Letters From the Front Lines
Chapter Twenty Six: Letters From the Front Lines
Dear Dana,
Nice to hear from you again, you lazy kid. Can't you call or write a little more often than once every couple months? I miss you. So, how's my favorite crazy cousin? Things in the City are... interesting, to say the least.
There's this girl, have I mentioned her before? I doubt it. Her name's Maureen. Maureen Johnson. She's from Hicksville, actually, and she's about your age - maybe you two went school together? I'm not holding my breath, so I'll tell you about her. She's... well, like I said - she's your age. She's got curly blonde hair and brown eyes. She's amazing, Danny. She's beautiful and outgoing and energetic and... wild. That's the only way to put it. God, I sound crazy, don't I? She's flirtatious and out of control.
I love it.
The only drawback is that she's after Roger. Granted, I know you and most of the female (and quite a bit of the male) population would point out "who wouldn't be after Roger?", but I don't particularly care about that.
She and Roger have started this sort of on stage courtship, I guess you could call it. I mean, that's a little too chaste for what they're doing, really, but there's not much else I can think to call it. He plays and sings, sometimes at her, and she dances and sings along, sometimes at him. When he's not playing at one of the many pretty girls (and occasionally boys - he says that he has to be fair and give the pretty fairies some attention, too), he's generally playing at me, probably because I'm the only person he knows personally. And a lot of times, it seems, she dances with me.
Am I just the perfect person to hang with while you plan your next move to get someone into bed or something? I'm not getting this, honestly.
I want her to stop chasing after him, though. I mean, it's not like I've griped and complained about the fact that Roger can (and often does) have pretty much anyone he wants, whenever he wants. But just this once, I'd like the girl to pay attention to me, and not because she wants to get to know Roger or because Roger didn't want o get to know her. I'm either a tool or a consolation prize. Just this once, I wish it were different.
Maur's different, though, in the way she goes about getting what she wants. Most girls would've gone after him immediately. She's talked to him face to face... maybe twice? And I met her about a month ago.
She's intriguing him. Making him curious. God, she's a fucking genius - that's exactly the way to get Roger to pay attention to you, and she seems to have picked up on it from the start. Maybe she does it to stand out from the groupies that pretty much throw themselves at the band members. It works, I can tell you that.
Oh, speaking of groupies, Roger already has quite a few. Three gigs total, in a month (which is, apparently, a big deal - but they're just starting out under a new name with a new front man composer lyricist. Thank god, too, I heard some of their old stuff, and it was fucking garbage.) and he already has quite the fan base. He's had panties thrown at him - no shit - and has signed a couple sets of breasts. Or... however you'd phrase that. I hope you know what I mean.
Anyway, work is boring as usual, and my screenplay attempts suck. But I'm a lot happier than I'd be if I were still at Brown, and that's what matters.
Say hi to Nata and Lett and everyone over there for me, okay?
Love,
Mark
# # #
Benjamin,
You better fucking well be coming out here for Thanksgiving, man, I've got a nice lady from over in psychology coming over to cook the turkey, among other things - we queers gotta stick together. I'm bringing the alcohol; you could bring your sorry ass over here.
Well, classes to teach, papers to grade, freshmen to terrorize. Damn, I think I'm gonna like being an undergrad professor - how'd I make it my first year out from grad school?
-T.C.
And then Something That Was Not God said "Let there be anarchy", and there was anarchy, and the world got a lot more interesting.
# # #
Mom,
How's it going? Don't have time for a long letter, just wanted to let you know how things are going in the big city.
Band's doing well - two months of gigs and we're getting a little press here and there. Mostly one blurb in the Village Voice, and no I'm not sending it to you. It's just a little piece saying that we played somewhere and were pretty good.
I've got a small collection of lady's undergarments going if you'd like some new lingerie if you ever get a boyfriend - you gonna do that before I have kids or what? Kidding, you know I'm kidding. And if you don't, then you definitely should. So there.
Mark's doing pretty well, I guess. He's been having some issues with his scripts, keeps throwing them out. Some of them have been pretty crappy, I'll admit, but I think it's mostly that he's overly critical of his own work - no self-confidence. (And Mom, I love you, but swear to god you make a comment about me actually having a vocabulary and I won't come visit for Christmas.) Other than that, I can't think of anything...
Oh, there's this girl. Not for me, for Mark. Well, that's debatable, I guess. Thing is, he met her at my first gig. Blonde, gorgeous, sexy as hell. Name's Maureen. Anyway, he's got a definite thing for her, and it's the most pitiful thing I've ever seen. He follows her like a little lost puppy, I swear. Anyway, she's either totally oblivious to how much he likes her, totally heartless and coming after me anyway, or trying to make him act by pretending she's not interested. Jury's still out on that one, I've got no idea which it is. Honestly, I'm leaning more towards the first or second - he doesn't really seem like his type.
Anyway, I've got work, I'll talk to you this weekend.
Love you,
Roger
# # #
Tom,
Hey, man, just a quick note to let you in on my plans - of course I'm coming for Thanksgiving - beats going back to Vegas and ending up at an all you can eat buffet because Cheryl can't cook worth shit.
Actually, I was thinking about getting in touch with my old roommate from the beginning of last year - Mark Cohen? The geeky film kid who dropped out, I told you about him. I haven't heard from him in a while and figured if he and his friend aren't doing anything, they could come too, you know?
Oh, and I know you don't mind, but here's a heads up - I'm not leaving after Thanksgiving. Boston is giving me ulcers. Not like New York won't, but at least I'll have some friends there that aren't from work.
Give me a call, asshole, I'm your best friend!
Benny
P.S. They hired you because you're probably the fucking smartest guy your age they know, and because you know more about those fucking machines than all their other professors combined. Is it true you're taking another philosophy course? You're gonna rot your brain.
# # #
Dear April,
It really sucks that we don't have time to talk on the phone anymore - I miss you, baby, it's so lonely here without you. You'd better be taking care of yourself since I'm not there. And yes, I am doing the same, before you ask. No hypocrisy here, no ma'am!
I haven't properly gotten to tell you about my new friends. You remember that band I took you to see when you were here six months ago, Fire Escape? Well, they got a new singer lead guitarist writer front man person thing about three months ago. Changed their name to - you're going to love this - 'The Well Hungarians'. Ha ha ha, right? But they're a bunch of horny college aged guys, what do you expect? Anyway, I made friends with their new front man, Roger Davis, and his roommate Mark Cohen. Well, technically I went the other way around - made friends with Mark and then got to know Roger a couple weeks later. Didn't want to seem like a groupie, you know?
God, he's... amazing. Mark, I mean. Roger's great, he's funny and sexy and confident and a damn good musician, but Mark is... sweet. He reminds me of you, if you were shy and male. There's a sense of humor hidden in there, it's great to get it to come out. And he stutters when you get him nervous or flustered - oh my fucking god, it's adorable.
Only thing is that he's totally not my type. No, that's wrong, he is my type, sweet and lovable. I'm not his type, though. He sees me and assumes I'm going after Roger so he doesn't even bother considering something more. I mean, I guess I'm not exactly helping that assumption, I'll openly admit that I flirt with Roger some. Mostly only when he's on stage, though, and then... I don't know, it's not really me and him, you know what I mean? It's a rock star and a groupie (for lack of a better term). Then he gets off the stage and we go to a 24 hour diner and get scrambled eggs and pancakes and milkshakes at 1:30 in the morning and it's me and Roger and Mark again.
I'm rambling, shit, hope you don't mind. It's just... it's nice to have friends here. I've been here since June and they're the first friends I've made. You'd like them, I think - you're definitely meeting them when you come up for my birthday. Not in the least because Mark's just found out when my birthday is and he seems like the kind of person who'd remember and want to throw a party or something. At least get a cake. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I really hope I'm right.
Randomly, though, April dearest, I do think you'd get along very well with Roger - he seems like your type. I know you're going to say you don't go for the conceited center of attention drama queen rock star type, but even though he is a little bit of a drama queen and loves being the center of attention as much as I do, he's really nice. Got a great sense of humor. And hey, he's Mark's best friend, so how bad could he be?
I miss you I miss you I miss you. You need to move up here, like now.
All my love and kisses to Kitten (who needs a better name) and to you of course,
Maur
# # #
Babe,
Coming up sooner than planned. You're not doing anything for Thanksgiving, are you?
Love,
April