NEW GAGA FIC! -- Just Rehearsal - Chapter One
Title::..Just Rehearsal
Chapter::..One - Get Your Ass in My Bed
Rating::..M for explicit sexual references and coarse language
Genre::..Smut
Characters::..Jo Calderone and Lady Gaga
Pairing::..Jo/Gaga
Author’s Note::..While I was watching the Yoü & I video I couldn’t help thinking ‘hoe damn, it’d be so hot if Gaga and Jo hooked up’, then the video continued, and what do I see but Gaga and Jo sharing very steamy smooches? I quickly became obsessed with that part of the video and the pairing. But it wasn’t until Jo’s monologue at the opening of the 2011 MTV VMAs that I felt the plot bunnies nibbling at me. I was pretty much attacked by plot bunnies, and the night after watching the monologue I simply had to start writing this because I could not get Jo out of my mind and I needed to write this down so that I could actually concentrate on something else!
This fic documents their relationship as I like to imagine it. I’m not sure exactly how long this fic will be just yet; I want to go over their whole relationship so who knows how long that will take me. This first chapter takes place before Lady Gaga released The Fame. It’s based in downtown New York where Gaga is working her ass off trying to make a name for herself.
The chapter title comes from the Lady Gaga song SummerBoy, from the album The Fame. The fact that Gaga has a David Bowie poster and that they dance to Bowie is because of the fact that David Bowie is simply too marvellous to go without mentioning. If you’re wondering, the album Jo puts on is Aladdin Sane and the song Gaga goes crazy for is The Jean Genie because it’s so much fun to dance to.
This fic is for you Little Monsters! If there is anything you specifically want to see unfold in the story please don’t hesitate to let me know!
Dedicated to::..First and foremost dedicated to Mother Monster. I have to thank Lady Gaga for her fearlessness. She always makes my dreams come true and never stops inspiring me. PAWS UP FOREVER!
A HUGE BIG THANK YOU TO MY HOOKER, JENNIFER (miss1nformation)! My gorgeous Hooker, thank you so much for all of your amazing help and encouraging words. But most of all: thank you for sharing in this excitement with me, it has kept me inspired and working alongside you is so much fun! ILYSFM
And also thanks to the lovely Jinny (jinnywatson) for reading through this and giving me some feedback. You always keep me inspired with your amazing icons and whenever I need a rip of anything you’re there to make sure I’m accommodated.
Summary::.. Jo Calderone hadn’t been living in New York City very long but he felt like he kept seeing the same girl everywhere he went.
Just Rehearsal
The Story of Lady Gaga and Jo Calderone
Chapter One --- Get Your Ass in My Bed
‘that Boy is bad
and honestly
he’s a Wolf in disguise
but I can’t stop staring
in those Evil Eyes’
Lady Gaga, Monster
Jo Calderone hadn’t been living in New York City very long, less than eight weeks, but he felt like he kept seeing the same girl everywhere he went. A bleached blonde, petite girl, she wore sexy cat-suits, large sunglasses and so much make-up she might be mistaken for a hooker.
It seemed like no matter which downtown club he went to she was there. She was either walking around like she owned the place or she was on stage, in little more than a bikini, banging away on a keyboard.
Seeing this chick opened Jo’s eyes to the fact that he was no longer in Jersey. He had lived his whole life in New Jersey, and after a while, every girl had begun to seem the same. They looked the same, they talked the same and they fucked the same way. Girls in New York were something different and this chick took the individuality of New York to a higher level than the others.
Like most guys his age Jo went out to bars after he finished work. He spent most of the money he earned on whiskey and cigarettes. He sat with other guys, swapping stories and inspecting the female talent on display that night; cheap thrills to fill the hours before returning to work.
Every time Jo was in a bar there was a 70% chance the blonde chick would be there, singing her pop songs. He had seen her on stage at least fifteen times, but he had never properly listened; pop wasn’t his thing. Not that he preferred the whiney indie shit usually dominating the stage, he just found it difficult to take pop music seriously when he knew none of the ‘artists’ did. If they didn’t care enough to write their own songs why should he bother listening to them?
It was a usual night. The rain outside had kept some people away, Jo approved of this; he hated the tight squeeze and standing in a long line to get to the bar. He had to go by the stage to reach the crapper. Iron Maiden was blasting out of the speakers and this was his first motivation to look up. She was there, flipping her blonde hair all about in a choreographed routine perfectly copied by the brunette on the other side of the stage. She was wearing a bra covered in the mirrored tiles of a disco ball and leather boots with spiked heels. This was enough to get his attention and he slowed his pace.
The sign hanging behind them informed him he was watching Lady Gaga and The Starlight Revenue. The blonde caught his eye and she held his gaze. With one hand making a mess of her hair she slid her other hand down to grab her crotch, her eyes locked on his. She winked at him before turning and strutting across the stage. He couldn’t resist looking at her ass, she was clearly showing it off in her black hot pants and he thought it would be a crime against nature not to check out such a fine ass. After this he returned to his original task of relieving his bladder.
When he returned from the toilet the blonde had moved to behind her keyboard. She was standing up, swinging her weight from one foot to the other in time with the beat of the unrecognizable song. She had a fire in her eyes as she slammed the keys.
It took a lot to get Jo’s attention, but he felt this was worth stopping to watch. She had the voice of a proper crooner, curling her top lip as she growled over some words. She tilted her head skywards, popping her shoulders. There were a few moments where she appeared to be having a seizure as her legs shook.
He went to collect a bottle of beer, but he returned to watch her. He ended up watching the rest of their set. The blonde was mesmerising. She was pouring all of her intensity into this performance as if the crowd was so much more than drunken locals who wouldn’t remember her name tomorrow. She was screaming, jumping enthusiastically.
The set finished with her and her brunette counterpart using cans of hairspray as flamethrowers. Jo found himself clapping and whistling wildly as they took their bows. They left the stage in a cloud of fire extinguisher foam. The applause faded away and the DJ began, leaving Jo with no option but to stroll back to his seat at the bar.
He had just lit a cigarette when the blonde performer stepped up to the bar beside him. She had changed but the clothes she was wearing now were just as flashy as her stage clothes. She wore bright blue tights as pants with a shimmering gold halter neck. Her eyes were covered by large sunglasses.
The bartender showed her a smile of recognition. “Great set tonight Gaga. Eddie’s pretty pissed at you and Starlight for lighting the hairspray on fire again.”
“Yeah I know, he gave us a lecture about how dangerous it is and then he totally disregarded the whole thing by booking us for the next week.” She responded, laughing.
“You want the usual?” He inquired.
“Yes please.”
The bartender poured her a whiskey and Jo intervened. “I’ll pay for that.”
She turned to look at him, but because of those fucking sunglasses, he couldn’t see what her eyes were doing. She smiled, a piece of gum lolling lazily from one side of her mouth to the other. “Thanks, man.”
“So you’re Lady Gaga?” He asked.
She slid one cheek onto the bar stool beside his, considering him over the top of her whiskey. “That’s me.”
“That was somethin’ amazing on that stage.” He told her.
She grinned. “You liked my variety show?” She pulled her sunglasses down her nose so she could blink up at him with feathered lashes.
“It was somethin’ else, I never seen a show like that before.” He continued. “You were fuckin’ incredible on that keyboard. Where’d you get those songs?”
“I wrote ‘em.” She replied simply, placing herself fully on the seat.
“You got a real talent.” He said. “I really liked that one about the, uh, what was it? The, the- the blueberries.”
“Blueberry Kisses.” She provided.
“Yeah, that was great.” He said.
She removed her sunglasses completely. In what looked like a highly choreographed move she folded the glasses and placed them on the bar. She held his gaze as she lifted the glass to her lips and drank. Her eyes were dark as she raked the excess moisture off of her top lip with her tongue, not once breaking eye contact with him. “You’re like the perfect cliché, huh? Sitting here in your white wife-beater with your cigarette. What’s your story Mysterious Stranger?”
“I’m Jo Calderone, I just moved here from Jersey and I’m workin’ in a garage.” He said. “And the smoking?” He breathed out a pillar of smoke in a grin. “I need to give it up.”
“Why?” She said. “I like clichés.” He became aware of the toe of her shoe poking up underneath the cuff of his pants leg. “You don’t have any plans for the rest of tonight, do you Jo?”
He shrugged. “Nope, I’m happy right here.”
“Great.” She said, returning her sunglasses to her face and getting up from her seat. “Come find me later.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder, and as she walked away she trailed her fingers across his back. Her fingers dipped teasingly lower down his back before disappearing. She walked slow, one high-heeled foot placed purposefully in front of the other. His drink hung in mid-air on the way back to his mouth as he watched her, totally distracted. She glanced back, grinning at the sight of him staring.
Jo downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He quickly ordered another. He wanted to instantly chase after her and grab her. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to play hard to get so then she could feel as if it was all on her own terms. He lit a new cigarette, telling himself he needed to stay seated and away from Lady Gaga for at least an hour.
He was somewhat distracted when some of his acquaintances invited him to play pool with them. They placed bets to make the game more exciting. When it wasn’t his turn he scanned the crowd, waiting to see her again. In the end he won and went to spend his earnings on a drink.
On his way back from the bar he glanced across to the dance floor and there she was. She was out in the middle of the floor, amongst friends. He casually leaned against the bar, deciding to give her the span of three songs to notice him before he left for another game of pool. The dance floor was quite bare, allowing him to track her easily.
She embraced a lot of her friends, kissing many of them on the cheek before they left. Once they were gone she appeared a little lost. She danced slower than before; she seemed to be self-conscious, looking around at the crowd surrounding her.
It was as she was inspecting everyone else on the floor that she spotted Jo. Her expression changed straight away. She grabbed the arm of her last remaining friend, whispered something in her ear and they broke apart. The friend walked away while she began to prowl toward him. He took a sip of his drink, pretending to not be absorbed in every move she made.
She stepped right up to him, invading his personal space with barely inches between them. “Do you like to dance Jo?”
“Somethin’s gotta move me the right way.” He replied.
She grinned and took the glass from his hand. She tilted her head back and swallowed the remaining liquid in one audible gulp. She leant forward, unsubtly pressing her breasts against his chest as she put the glass safely down on the bar. She turned away from him, grabbing his belt and pulling him along with her as she walked back to the dance floor.
She took him directly to the jukebox. “What kind of music do you like?”
He watched her flipping through the wide selection of songs. “What about some Springsteen?” He asked.
“Good choice.” She congratulated him. She hit a few buttons and walked away, heading for the middle of the floor.
Nodding along to the beat he followed her. She was there, dancing in a carefree way that made her look a little goofy. He grabbed her and pulled her body to his. He spun her around to face him. He put one hand to the small of her back while securing his other hand around hers. He spun her around a couple of times. When she was back at his side he dipped her down. Before bringing her back up he removed her sunglasses and placed them over his own eyes.
She was laughing when he brought her upright again. She stopped laughing when he pulled her body close to his. They began to move together. He picked her arm up and draped it around his neck while he placed his own arm around her waist, keeping her close.
They swayed, their bodies grinding against one another. With their foreheads pressed together he stared into her eyes and forgot about everyone else in the bar. It didn’t take long for his hand to find her rear. He cupped it firmly with her raising her knee to his waist in response, bringing her pelvis closer to his. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. She put her hand into the collar of his shirt and dragged her nails across his bare skin.
He nipped at her ear lobe. She moaned in the most disgustingly sexual way and this made him realize he couldn’t stay here for much longer. He felt like he might explode and that couldn’t happen in the middle of a public bar. He grabbed her thigh and guided her foot back to the ground. She watched him detangling their limbs with her brow furrowed in confusion.
“I need a drink.” He informed her.
She curled her hand into a fist around the material of his shirt and tugged him closer. “I’ve got some whiskey back at my place if you wanna get out of here.” She smiled at him, ensuring there was no confusion regarding this invitation.
He tilted his head down to look at her over the top of the sunglasses. She held tightly on to his shirt and bit her lip in a falsely-bashful look. Apparently she had given up on playing hard to get. The promise of sex, she had warmed him up too much with her dancing, there was no chance of him resisting. His grin began to resemble hers as the possibilities of the hours lying ahead of him swam through his head.
Once they were inside her apartment neither bothered keeping up the pretence of his need for some whiskey. Whiskey was the last thing on his mind as he followed her up one staircase after the other. After what seemed like an age of running up stairs she found her door and they stumbled in.
She discarded the large duffle bag she had carried from the bar onto the floor and this was as far as he let her go. He grabbed her and brought her body to his. Their lips met, wild in their urgency. There were no inhibitions as she stripped off his shirt and then reattached her mouth to his. It was a flurry of tongues and groping hands learning the outlay of unknown territory.
Trying not to stop kissing they sought out an appropriate place to complete this. This resulted in a lot of near-tripping and hushed laughter as they bumped into things.
He supposed she was trying to remember which way her bed was, but this wasn’t working too well for her. He decided the wall was good enough and began to move in that direction with her still attached to his front like a lustful leech. They were lucky not to fall over entirely. He reached out blindly and finally found the wall, glad for something steady to keep him upright.
She hit into the wall and pulled away, sufficiently robbed of all of her breath. She gasped in air, her chest rising-and-falling rapidly under her gold top. Working quickly she undid her belt and slid down her pants. She discarded her panties and somehow during all of this her chunky high heels had remained intact.
She pulled his body back to hers, her lips crushing against his with more intensity than before. He felt it was only a matter of seconds before his throbbing erection ripped through his pants in its desperation to get inside of her. She roughly un-did his pants, her breathing hot and laboured at his ear. He lifted her off of the ground, pressing her up against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her back against him as he slid easily into her soaking wet entrance.
Her hand on his shoulder curled into a tight claw as he began to move inside of her. She rocked her lips, grinding them against his, creating amazing friction. Her tongue explored all through his mouth, making him feel that she wanted to detach his tongue from whatever was holding it in place.
He swayed and almost staggered backward. He opened his eyes and detached himself from her lips as he took a moment to regain his balance. He replaced both hands on the wall. It was becoming a genuine struggle to remain standing. He rocked on his heels, the world swimming all around him.
He pressed his face into her hot neck. She reeked of sweat and cigarettes, the stale smell of a bar. There was the ghost of a long-ago applied perfume lurking subtly below these others scents. He bucked his hips higher than before and was pleased by the sound of her breath hitching. She kept up the steady rhythm on his cock despite her breath failing her more times.
Suddenly her thighs tightened around his waist. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck.” She turned her face away from him. He found himself with a face full of blonde hair, a few of the strands irritating his nose. “Oh, Jo…Jo, ah!” She bit into his shoulder. She rode out her orgasm with her teeth and nails digging into his skin.
Then her legs went limp. A handful of seconds later and he was done as well. He guided her back to the ground. But he didn’t let go immediately, he wasn’t sure she could walk and he thought the heels added an extra risk.
“I need to sit down.” She announced, mouth hanging open and wide-eyed. He moved out of her way and she shakily walked away. He turned and watched as she collapsed onto a close-by couch. He wasn’t surprised he hadn’t spotted it upon first entering. He collected his pants from where they had bundled at his knees, bringing them back up to his hips. She was staring at the ceiling.
“Where’s your whiskey?” He inquired.
“Huh?” She said as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Whiskey.” He repeated.
“Kitchen.” She responded in a faraway voice.
He started to search for the kitchen with no hints; she seemed to be in no state to give directions. He figured this was something to be proud of; he had fucked her into slight-incoherence.
When he returned from the kitchen she was still on the couch. It appeared that she had not moved at all. With her lying motionless, his eyes moved around the room, seeking new stimulation. There was a collection of high heels by the door. She had an awfully out of date television. There were CD covers stacked onto every available surface. A desk was set up in the corner; it was covered in different materials and a glue gun lay alongside a sewing machine. There was a framed poster of David Bowie posing as Ziggy Stardust hanging above the couch.
The coffee table was buried underneath loose pieces of paper full of scribbles and two chipped coffee mugs, both bearing rings of red lipstick around the rims. He pushed some of the papers aside and took a seat on the surface of the table. He extended the glass to her. At first she didn’t acknowledge it. Then, after a series of rapid blinks, she accepted the drink, sitting up.
She was flushed as she grinned at him. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He replied, wondering if she had fully returned to her senses yet.
“That was somethin’ else.” She said. She took a sip and removed herself from the couch. She curled herself into him. She kissed him all over his torso, making his skin rise until it looked similar to goose-flesh. “You smell like sex.” She pushed her nose against his with a hand at the back of his head, her fingers twisting around the hair there. “I smell worse than a fuckin’ street-dog.”
“Maybe a little.” He shrugged and they both chuckled.
She rose to her feet. “I’ll go have a shower. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
“There’s a near-full bottle of whiskey in the kitchen, why would I go anywhere else?” He stated.
“Good.” She smiled. “The TV doesn’t have a remote so you gotta turn it on at the box, and that record player in the corner works; I’m just not sure if it’s plugged in or not. But you can listen to any record you want…”
He dismissed her with a waving of his hand. “Sure, sure. I’m a big boy I can fend for myself. Just go shower.”
She left the room and as he watched he took a sip of the remaining liquid. He could have easily followed her into the shower, he was certain she wouldn’t object. But he didn’t. Instead he looked around the room again. He liked the idea of getting lost in her world.
He went to the record player first. There were three shelves dominated by her record collection. He carefully looked through them all, some were old and peeling while others were still shiny in their newness. It was a broad collection: she had mainstream pop, there were heavy metal records scattered throughout and she had all of the important, era-making albums from the 1980’s. There were also a lot of soundtracks from musicals; he flipped past these quickly, his lip curling in disgust.
In the end he decided on David Bowie. Growing up he had listened to a lot of Bowie, due to his mother’s strong infatuation with him. It had been at least four years since he had listened to a Bowie album properly. He turned the volume up, letting the music fill the apartment.
Normally he didn’t linger after sex. This was because most of the chicks he picked up at bars bored the fuck out of him. Usually he started making excuses about having to go to work early the second his cock was back in his pants. Most of the women let him leave; they understood you shouldn’t expect commitment from a guy you took home from a bar.
But there was something about this girl. Her talent was undeniable. There might have been more that had pulled him in. Was it the high heels? Perhaps it was the feathered eyelashes or perfectly shaped fingernails? He thought it was mostly because when she looked at him there was no fear in her eyes, no remarkable flicker of doubt for him to notice. This was a chick that was very sure of herself, and this left him wanting more.
He had poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey when she entered. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn’t any shorter. She walked toward him, her heels clicking on the tiles. The false lashes were gone and her skin was paler now it was stripped of foundation. She was wearing a slightly baggy Kiss tank-top and he wasn’t sure if there was anything beneath it. Despite the dirtiness of the shirt she was still wearing the heels as if she were on a runway.
He pulled his glass out of her reach. He picked at her shirt, inspecting it. “What’s this you’re wearing? Is this what you wear to bed?”
“Yeah.” She replied innocently.
“If you think you’re going to bed, how come you’re still wearing the heels?” He inquired.
“Because they’re attached to my feet, I literally cannot take them off.” She informed him, walking out of the room before he could question her further.
He emptied his glass before following her. He found her opening the window overlooking the street below. Once she had the window open she climbed out. “Hey, where’re you goin’?”
“Didn’t you ever see Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” She asked. She continued too quickly, talking over his chance to scoff sarcastically. “The fire escape is the place to be seen. Turn the music up.” He went to the record player and had just begun to turn the volume dial when she poked her head back in. “Hurry up and get your ass out here, it’s a beautiful night.”
When he climbed out onto the iron platform she was slow-dancing by herself with her eyes closed. He rested against the windowsill while she went on, not noticing his presence. Her movements were fluid, her hair billowing out in a fan of gold as she spun around. He watched, slightly transfixed.
Then more pressing issues were brought to the forefront of his mind. “You mind if I smoke?”
“Go ahead.” She shrugged.
“Hey, what’s your name?” He asked as she stretched her legs out, taking a few moments to pretend she was a ballerina.
“Lady Gaga.” She replied.
He gave a quick chuckle because he knew it was a joke. “Yeah, I know. But what’s your real name?”
“Lady Gaga is my real name.” She said.
“Right, that’s your stage name. But what’s your name when you’re off the stage, in the real world?” He asked.
She stopped moving so she could stare directly at him. She stood with her shoulders back and when she spoke there was nothing but certainly in her voice, no hints of trepidation to make her statement mean less. “I’m never off the stage, my name is Lady Gaga. I used to be someone else but now I’m Gaga.”
She had captured his curiosity. “Who did you used to be?”
“What made you move to New York Jo?” She inquired, not taking so much as a second to decide she wasn’t going to answer his question.
He let out an exasperated sigh, a cloud of smoke billowing from his mouth. He looked over to where she was sitting, smiling at him. She knew she had won; there was no point in fighting this.
“I got stabbed in the head.”
Her eyes popped and her jaw dropped. “What? Someone stabbed you in the head? What did you do to deserve that?”
“I messed with the wrong guy’s girl.” He stated.
“How are you still alive?” She marvelled. “Where’s the scar?”
“I cover the scar with my hair so I don’t have to tell the story to every person I meet on the street. The knife was pretty blunt; the guy was too dumb to do any real damage. It barely fractured my skull; I was out of hospital, in like, three days.” He explained, flicking his cigarette, watching it whiz away.
“Was she worth it?” She asked softly.
He scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’m pretty sure I only did it to piss him off because I was that bored with my life. It was a good wake-up call. I’d lived in the same town my whole life so I came out here for a fresh start; this seemed like the right place to start.”
“New York is the right place for everything.” She stated. “I was born here and I can’t imagine being anywhere else. The people, the energy on the streets, the lights, the…everything. It’s magical here.”
“I’m startin’ to realize that.” He said to her.
She smiled and grabbed his hands, pulling him off of the sill. “Come on, the next song is the best one.” She climbed into the apartment, turning the music up louder. She re-emerged, cheering. Once she was back on the fire escape she ran on the spot, clapping her hands. She began to bound around, pushing herself off of the railings.
She was deeply unimpressed when she saw how little he was moving. She grabbed him by the hips and began to guide him into dancing. They bounced to the beat, then he started stomping his feet while she waved her arms. They jumped around in the limited space of the fire escape as if it were a mosh pit. They sang loudly, shouting at each other.
When the song finished they both fell to exhausted laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had this much fun. He was glad there wasn’t a clock anywhere in sight. Surely the reality of time would spoil their party.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “You’re kinda crazy.” He said. “I like it.”
After their burst of energetic dancing it was decided they needed refreshments. He poured her a separate glass of whiskey so there was no danger of her stealing his drink again. Her neighbours had to yell out several times and eventually they turned the music off.
Her bedroom was covered in clothes. The wardrobe was open and over-spilling. Discarded clothes were strewn across her bed. The floor was barely visible beneath all of the dirty garments. Magnificent dresses of all different colours hung from the curtain rod. Everywhere he looked he was faced with clothes, he felt as if he were in a store.
They lay down on her bed together. Then they did something he had never done while on a woman’s bed: they talked. They shared funny stories, keeping the conversation light and making each other laugh. He was very comfortable, sprawled out on his back in the middle of the bed with his fingers tracing circles onto the small of her back, her heels waving around in the air.
He asked her about her music and once she began talking it seemed impossible for her to stop. He listened, only slightly distracted by the warmness of her skin. She told him of her plans, a passionate fire burning in her eyes. He envied her motivation.
“I know I’m a rock star, I’m just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.” She said.
“What happens if you’re thirty and you still haven’t gotten a record deal?” He asked.
“I’ll get blind drunk on my birthday so I don’t realize what’s going on, then I can be happy.” She said. “Then the next day I’ll write new songs, better songs because I can’t be anything else but a musician. That’s why I make such a shitty waitress.”
She was rolling his fingers between her own and she looked at this, instead of meeting his eyes, as she continued. “I know you probably don’t get it, but I think you should know…”
“No.” He cut in. “Yeah, you’re right I don’t really get it, but it’s cool.”
She smiled shyly. “Cool.”
She lifted herself up to put her lips to his. She paused, lingering a few inches from his lips, smiling uncertainly at him. She leant in closer, breathing heavily but still not kissing him. He decided to put an end to the teasing; he grabbed her and mashed his lips against hers. She laughed as he flipped them over so he was on top. She grinned as he hovered over her.
He kissed her hot and fast. She wrapped her arms securely around him, sliding her tongue into his mouth and curling her leg around his waist again. He groaned when she dragged her nails up his arms. His lips wandered over to her cheek. His eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was her bedside clock. This instantly shattered the moment.
He sprung up, her arms ripping off of him. “Holy fuck!”
“What?” She asked, sitting up slightly with her legs still tangled around him. “What’s wrong?”
“Is that clock right?” He asked.
“Yeah.” She replied simply. “Why?”
He tried to figure out how to remove her legs so he could move. “I have to go I gotta be at work in like three hours. I need to go home and change and get all your lipstick off my face.”
“Oh.” She responded, untwisting her legs. “Um...” She grabbed his hand and started writing something on his palm.
He looked from the writing to her, his eyebrows raised. “What’re you doin’?”
“Giving you my phone number.” She said.
“Don’t bother; I don’t have a phone to call you from.” He dismissed.
She paused, leaning back and staring, disbelieving. “You don’t have a phone?”
“No.”
“None at all?”
“No.”
“Why not?” She asked.
“Why?” He returned. “Everyone is so desperate to be in contact these days: you’ve got the phone at home, the answering machine, the cell phone to carry around, the pager, the internet and all the shit that comes with it. It’s like nobody knows how to be alone; they all got somethin’ to say all of the time. Me, I go out when I want to see people. When I’m at home I sleep and relax.” He nudged his shoulder against hers. “Now you can’t get angry at me for not calling you.”
She smiled weakly. “Right.”
He ventured into the main room where he found his shirt and returned his shoes to his feet. He couldn’t see his belt anywhere. He couldn’t remember when it had been removed. Had they been against the wall or had she removed it before then? He peered at the couch but it wasn’t there. The only belt he could see was hers, lying with her crumpled tights and ruined panties.
He had just realized his fly was lying undone when she emerged from the bedroom. “I’ll come back and see you at the bar again soon.”
“You don’t have to say shit like that to cushion the blow or whatever. I’m a grown-up girl; I know how a one-night-stand goes.” She informed him.
“Whoa, hold up.” He instructed. “Calm down. If this was a one-night-stand how come I stayed for like five hours after sex, how come I listened to you talking about your music? So shut up and just be grateful.”
She looked as if she were fighting very hard to stop a smile from emerging on her face. She folded her arms across her chest, trying to act annoyed. “I’ll be defensive if I wanna.”
“You’re fuckin’ adorable.” He said, pressing a kiss onto the back of her hand. “And I’m gonna come see another show because I wanna see you in those stripper clothes again.” Grinning at her he gave her ass a quick slap and left, without his belt.
As he left down the stairs he rolled himself a cigarette. After smoking for seven years rolling a cigarette had become second nature, he hardly had to concentrate and this allowed him to put his attention on not falling down the stairs. He sealed the cigarette with his saliva and tucked it behind his ear for later.
He stepped out onto the cold street. As always with New York there were cars everywhere. He didn’t have to wait long to see a yellow coloured cab. He hailed it and stepped toward the gutter. The cab was pulling up and he had just begun toward it when he heard a voice from behind him.
“Hey Jo!” It was Gaga yelling. He turned to see her standing on her fire escape. Her hands were balled up at the hem of her shirt. In a quick movement she yanked the top up and thanks to the streetlamps he saw everything. He was frozen instantly, unable to look away from her perky breasts.
He lost balance, stepping out blindly and falling against the cab. She laughed loudly and when he turned back to look she had replaced the shirt over her torso. A proud grin stretched across her face. Still laughing she raised her hand, wiggling her fingers at him. “Good night.” She climbed through the window, disappearing behind the curtains a few moments later.
He opened the cab door and collapsed into the seat. Somehow he recalled his address and gave it to the driver. He removed the cigarette and lit it instantly. His pants suddenly felt very tight. Taking a drag from the cigarette he glanced back at the darkened window, he had never met anyone like her before. Lady Gaga was the real deal.
Keep reading here
Chapter::..One - Get Your Ass in My Bed
Rating::..M for explicit sexual references and coarse language
Genre::..Smut
Characters::..Jo Calderone and Lady Gaga
Pairing::..Jo/Gaga
Author’s Note::..While I was watching the Yoü & I video I couldn’t help thinking ‘hoe damn, it’d be so hot if Gaga and Jo hooked up’, then the video continued, and what do I see but Gaga and Jo sharing very steamy smooches? I quickly became obsessed with that part of the video and the pairing. But it wasn’t until Jo’s monologue at the opening of the 2011 MTV VMAs that I felt the plot bunnies nibbling at me. I was pretty much attacked by plot bunnies, and the night after watching the monologue I simply had to start writing this because I could not get Jo out of my mind and I needed to write this down so that I could actually concentrate on something else!
This fic documents their relationship as I like to imagine it. I’m not sure exactly how long this fic will be just yet; I want to go over their whole relationship so who knows how long that will take me. This first chapter takes place before Lady Gaga released The Fame. It’s based in downtown New York where Gaga is working her ass off trying to make a name for herself.
The chapter title comes from the Lady Gaga song SummerBoy, from the album The Fame. The fact that Gaga has a David Bowie poster and that they dance to Bowie is because of the fact that David Bowie is simply too marvellous to go without mentioning. If you’re wondering, the album Jo puts on is Aladdin Sane and the song Gaga goes crazy for is The Jean Genie because it’s so much fun to dance to.
This fic is for you Little Monsters! If there is anything you specifically want to see unfold in the story please don’t hesitate to let me know!
Dedicated to::..First and foremost dedicated to Mother Monster. I have to thank Lady Gaga for her fearlessness. She always makes my dreams come true and never stops inspiring me. PAWS UP FOREVER!
A HUGE BIG THANK YOU TO MY HOOKER, JENNIFER (miss1nformation)! My gorgeous Hooker, thank you so much for all of your amazing help and encouraging words. But most of all: thank you for sharing in this excitement with me, it has kept me inspired and working alongside you is so much fun! ILYSFM
And also thanks to the lovely Jinny (jinnywatson) for reading through this and giving me some feedback. You always keep me inspired with your amazing icons and whenever I need a rip of anything you’re there to make sure I’m accommodated.
Summary::.. Jo Calderone hadn’t been living in New York City very long but he felt like he kept seeing the same girl everywhere he went.
Just Rehearsal
The Story of Lady Gaga and Jo Calderone
Chapter One --- Get Your Ass in My Bed
‘that Boy is bad
and honestly
he’s a Wolf in disguise
but I can’t stop staring
in those Evil Eyes’
Lady Gaga, Monster
Jo Calderone hadn’t been living in New York City very long, less than eight weeks, but he felt like he kept seeing the same girl everywhere he went. A bleached blonde, petite girl, she wore sexy cat-suits, large sunglasses and so much make-up she might be mistaken for a hooker.
It seemed like no matter which downtown club he went to she was there. She was either walking around like she owned the place or she was on stage, in little more than a bikini, banging away on a keyboard.
Seeing this chick opened Jo’s eyes to the fact that he was no longer in Jersey. He had lived his whole life in New Jersey, and after a while, every girl had begun to seem the same. They looked the same, they talked the same and they fucked the same way. Girls in New York were something different and this chick took the individuality of New York to a higher level than the others.
Like most guys his age Jo went out to bars after he finished work. He spent most of the money he earned on whiskey and cigarettes. He sat with other guys, swapping stories and inspecting the female talent on display that night; cheap thrills to fill the hours before returning to work.
Every time Jo was in a bar there was a 70% chance the blonde chick would be there, singing her pop songs. He had seen her on stage at least fifteen times, but he had never properly listened; pop wasn’t his thing. Not that he preferred the whiney indie shit usually dominating the stage, he just found it difficult to take pop music seriously when he knew none of the ‘artists’ did. If they didn’t care enough to write their own songs why should he bother listening to them?
It was a usual night. The rain outside had kept some people away, Jo approved of this; he hated the tight squeeze and standing in a long line to get to the bar. He had to go by the stage to reach the crapper. Iron Maiden was blasting out of the speakers and this was his first motivation to look up. She was there, flipping her blonde hair all about in a choreographed routine perfectly copied by the brunette on the other side of the stage. She was wearing a bra covered in the mirrored tiles of a disco ball and leather boots with spiked heels. This was enough to get his attention and he slowed his pace.
The sign hanging behind them informed him he was watching Lady Gaga and The Starlight Revenue. The blonde caught his eye and she held his gaze. With one hand making a mess of her hair she slid her other hand down to grab her crotch, her eyes locked on his. She winked at him before turning and strutting across the stage. He couldn’t resist looking at her ass, she was clearly showing it off in her black hot pants and he thought it would be a crime against nature not to check out such a fine ass. After this he returned to his original task of relieving his bladder.
When he returned from the toilet the blonde had moved to behind her keyboard. She was standing up, swinging her weight from one foot to the other in time with the beat of the unrecognizable song. She had a fire in her eyes as she slammed the keys.
It took a lot to get Jo’s attention, but he felt this was worth stopping to watch. She had the voice of a proper crooner, curling her top lip as she growled over some words. She tilted her head skywards, popping her shoulders. There were a few moments where she appeared to be having a seizure as her legs shook.
He went to collect a bottle of beer, but he returned to watch her. He ended up watching the rest of their set. The blonde was mesmerising. She was pouring all of her intensity into this performance as if the crowd was so much more than drunken locals who wouldn’t remember her name tomorrow. She was screaming, jumping enthusiastically.
The set finished with her and her brunette counterpart using cans of hairspray as flamethrowers. Jo found himself clapping and whistling wildly as they took their bows. They left the stage in a cloud of fire extinguisher foam. The applause faded away and the DJ began, leaving Jo with no option but to stroll back to his seat at the bar.
He had just lit a cigarette when the blonde performer stepped up to the bar beside him. She had changed but the clothes she was wearing now were just as flashy as her stage clothes. She wore bright blue tights as pants with a shimmering gold halter neck. Her eyes were covered by large sunglasses.
The bartender showed her a smile of recognition. “Great set tonight Gaga. Eddie’s pretty pissed at you and Starlight for lighting the hairspray on fire again.”
“Yeah I know, he gave us a lecture about how dangerous it is and then he totally disregarded the whole thing by booking us for the next week.” She responded, laughing.
“You want the usual?” He inquired.
“Yes please.”
The bartender poured her a whiskey and Jo intervened. “I’ll pay for that.”
She turned to look at him, but because of those fucking sunglasses, he couldn’t see what her eyes were doing. She smiled, a piece of gum lolling lazily from one side of her mouth to the other. “Thanks, man.”
“So you’re Lady Gaga?” He asked.
She slid one cheek onto the bar stool beside his, considering him over the top of her whiskey. “That’s me.”
“That was somethin’ amazing on that stage.” He told her.
She grinned. “You liked my variety show?” She pulled her sunglasses down her nose so she could blink up at him with feathered lashes.
“It was somethin’ else, I never seen a show like that before.” He continued. “You were fuckin’ incredible on that keyboard. Where’d you get those songs?”
“I wrote ‘em.” She replied simply, placing herself fully on the seat.
“You got a real talent.” He said. “I really liked that one about the, uh, what was it? The, the- the blueberries.”
“Blueberry Kisses.” She provided.
“Yeah, that was great.” He said.
She removed her sunglasses completely. In what looked like a highly choreographed move she folded the glasses and placed them on the bar. She held his gaze as she lifted the glass to her lips and drank. Her eyes were dark as she raked the excess moisture off of her top lip with her tongue, not once breaking eye contact with him. “You’re like the perfect cliché, huh? Sitting here in your white wife-beater with your cigarette. What’s your story Mysterious Stranger?”
“I’m Jo Calderone, I just moved here from Jersey and I’m workin’ in a garage.” He said. “And the smoking?” He breathed out a pillar of smoke in a grin. “I need to give it up.”
“Why?” She said. “I like clichés.” He became aware of the toe of her shoe poking up underneath the cuff of his pants leg. “You don’t have any plans for the rest of tonight, do you Jo?”
He shrugged. “Nope, I’m happy right here.”
“Great.” She said, returning her sunglasses to her face and getting up from her seat. “Come find me later.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder, and as she walked away she trailed her fingers across his back. Her fingers dipped teasingly lower down his back before disappearing. She walked slow, one high-heeled foot placed purposefully in front of the other. His drink hung in mid-air on the way back to his mouth as he watched her, totally distracted. She glanced back, grinning at the sight of him staring.
Jo downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He quickly ordered another. He wanted to instantly chase after her and grab her. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to play hard to get so then she could feel as if it was all on her own terms. He lit a new cigarette, telling himself he needed to stay seated and away from Lady Gaga for at least an hour.
He was somewhat distracted when some of his acquaintances invited him to play pool with them. They placed bets to make the game more exciting. When it wasn’t his turn he scanned the crowd, waiting to see her again. In the end he won and went to spend his earnings on a drink.
On his way back from the bar he glanced across to the dance floor and there she was. She was out in the middle of the floor, amongst friends. He casually leaned against the bar, deciding to give her the span of three songs to notice him before he left for another game of pool. The dance floor was quite bare, allowing him to track her easily.
She embraced a lot of her friends, kissing many of them on the cheek before they left. Once they were gone she appeared a little lost. She danced slower than before; she seemed to be self-conscious, looking around at the crowd surrounding her.
It was as she was inspecting everyone else on the floor that she spotted Jo. Her expression changed straight away. She grabbed the arm of her last remaining friend, whispered something in her ear and they broke apart. The friend walked away while she began to prowl toward him. He took a sip of his drink, pretending to not be absorbed in every move she made.
She stepped right up to him, invading his personal space with barely inches between them. “Do you like to dance Jo?”
“Somethin’s gotta move me the right way.” He replied.
She grinned and took the glass from his hand. She tilted her head back and swallowed the remaining liquid in one audible gulp. She leant forward, unsubtly pressing her breasts against his chest as she put the glass safely down on the bar. She turned away from him, grabbing his belt and pulling him along with her as she walked back to the dance floor.
She took him directly to the jukebox. “What kind of music do you like?”
He watched her flipping through the wide selection of songs. “What about some Springsteen?” He asked.
“Good choice.” She congratulated him. She hit a few buttons and walked away, heading for the middle of the floor.
Nodding along to the beat he followed her. She was there, dancing in a carefree way that made her look a little goofy. He grabbed her and pulled her body to his. He spun her around to face him. He put one hand to the small of her back while securing his other hand around hers. He spun her around a couple of times. When she was back at his side he dipped her down. Before bringing her back up he removed her sunglasses and placed them over his own eyes.
She was laughing when he brought her upright again. She stopped laughing when he pulled her body close to his. They began to move together. He picked her arm up and draped it around his neck while he placed his own arm around her waist, keeping her close.
They swayed, their bodies grinding against one another. With their foreheads pressed together he stared into her eyes and forgot about everyone else in the bar. It didn’t take long for his hand to find her rear. He cupped it firmly with her raising her knee to his waist in response, bringing her pelvis closer to his. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. She put her hand into the collar of his shirt and dragged her nails across his bare skin.
He nipped at her ear lobe. She moaned in the most disgustingly sexual way and this made him realize he couldn’t stay here for much longer. He felt like he might explode and that couldn’t happen in the middle of a public bar. He grabbed her thigh and guided her foot back to the ground. She watched him detangling their limbs with her brow furrowed in confusion.
“I need a drink.” He informed her.
She curled her hand into a fist around the material of his shirt and tugged him closer. “I’ve got some whiskey back at my place if you wanna get out of here.” She smiled at him, ensuring there was no confusion regarding this invitation.
He tilted his head down to look at her over the top of the sunglasses. She held tightly on to his shirt and bit her lip in a falsely-bashful look. Apparently she had given up on playing hard to get. The promise of sex, she had warmed him up too much with her dancing, there was no chance of him resisting. His grin began to resemble hers as the possibilities of the hours lying ahead of him swam through his head.
Once they were inside her apartment neither bothered keeping up the pretence of his need for some whiskey. Whiskey was the last thing on his mind as he followed her up one staircase after the other. After what seemed like an age of running up stairs she found her door and they stumbled in.
She discarded the large duffle bag she had carried from the bar onto the floor and this was as far as he let her go. He grabbed her and brought her body to his. Their lips met, wild in their urgency. There were no inhibitions as she stripped off his shirt and then reattached her mouth to his. It was a flurry of tongues and groping hands learning the outlay of unknown territory.
Trying not to stop kissing they sought out an appropriate place to complete this. This resulted in a lot of near-tripping and hushed laughter as they bumped into things.
He supposed she was trying to remember which way her bed was, but this wasn’t working too well for her. He decided the wall was good enough and began to move in that direction with her still attached to his front like a lustful leech. They were lucky not to fall over entirely. He reached out blindly and finally found the wall, glad for something steady to keep him upright.
She hit into the wall and pulled away, sufficiently robbed of all of her breath. She gasped in air, her chest rising-and-falling rapidly under her gold top. Working quickly she undid her belt and slid down her pants. She discarded her panties and somehow during all of this her chunky high heels had remained intact.
She pulled his body back to hers, her lips crushing against his with more intensity than before. He felt it was only a matter of seconds before his throbbing erection ripped through his pants in its desperation to get inside of her. She roughly un-did his pants, her breathing hot and laboured at his ear. He lifted her off of the ground, pressing her up against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her back against him as he slid easily into her soaking wet entrance.
Her hand on his shoulder curled into a tight claw as he began to move inside of her. She rocked her lips, grinding them against his, creating amazing friction. Her tongue explored all through his mouth, making him feel that she wanted to detach his tongue from whatever was holding it in place.
He swayed and almost staggered backward. He opened his eyes and detached himself from her lips as he took a moment to regain his balance. He replaced both hands on the wall. It was becoming a genuine struggle to remain standing. He rocked on his heels, the world swimming all around him.
He pressed his face into her hot neck. She reeked of sweat and cigarettes, the stale smell of a bar. There was the ghost of a long-ago applied perfume lurking subtly below these others scents. He bucked his hips higher than before and was pleased by the sound of her breath hitching. She kept up the steady rhythm on his cock despite her breath failing her more times.
Suddenly her thighs tightened around his waist. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck.” She turned her face away from him. He found himself with a face full of blonde hair, a few of the strands irritating his nose. “Oh, Jo…Jo, ah!” She bit into his shoulder. She rode out her orgasm with her teeth and nails digging into his skin.
Then her legs went limp. A handful of seconds later and he was done as well. He guided her back to the ground. But he didn’t let go immediately, he wasn’t sure she could walk and he thought the heels added an extra risk.
“I need to sit down.” She announced, mouth hanging open and wide-eyed. He moved out of her way and she shakily walked away. He turned and watched as she collapsed onto a close-by couch. He wasn’t surprised he hadn’t spotted it upon first entering. He collected his pants from where they had bundled at his knees, bringing them back up to his hips. She was staring at the ceiling.
“Where’s your whiskey?” He inquired.
“Huh?” She said as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Whiskey.” He repeated.
“Kitchen.” She responded in a faraway voice.
He started to search for the kitchen with no hints; she seemed to be in no state to give directions. He figured this was something to be proud of; he had fucked her into slight-incoherence.
When he returned from the kitchen she was still on the couch. It appeared that she had not moved at all. With her lying motionless, his eyes moved around the room, seeking new stimulation. There was a collection of high heels by the door. She had an awfully out of date television. There were CD covers stacked onto every available surface. A desk was set up in the corner; it was covered in different materials and a glue gun lay alongside a sewing machine. There was a framed poster of David Bowie posing as Ziggy Stardust hanging above the couch.
The coffee table was buried underneath loose pieces of paper full of scribbles and two chipped coffee mugs, both bearing rings of red lipstick around the rims. He pushed some of the papers aside and took a seat on the surface of the table. He extended the glass to her. At first she didn’t acknowledge it. Then, after a series of rapid blinks, she accepted the drink, sitting up.
She was flushed as she grinned at him. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He replied, wondering if she had fully returned to her senses yet.
“That was somethin’ else.” She said. She took a sip and removed herself from the couch. She curled herself into him. She kissed him all over his torso, making his skin rise until it looked similar to goose-flesh. “You smell like sex.” She pushed her nose against his with a hand at the back of his head, her fingers twisting around the hair there. “I smell worse than a fuckin’ street-dog.”
“Maybe a little.” He shrugged and they both chuckled.
She rose to her feet. “I’ll go have a shower. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
“There’s a near-full bottle of whiskey in the kitchen, why would I go anywhere else?” He stated.
“Good.” She smiled. “The TV doesn’t have a remote so you gotta turn it on at the box, and that record player in the corner works; I’m just not sure if it’s plugged in or not. But you can listen to any record you want…”
He dismissed her with a waving of his hand. “Sure, sure. I’m a big boy I can fend for myself. Just go shower.”
She left the room and as he watched he took a sip of the remaining liquid. He could have easily followed her into the shower, he was certain she wouldn’t object. But he didn’t. Instead he looked around the room again. He liked the idea of getting lost in her world.
He went to the record player first. There were three shelves dominated by her record collection. He carefully looked through them all, some were old and peeling while others were still shiny in their newness. It was a broad collection: she had mainstream pop, there were heavy metal records scattered throughout and she had all of the important, era-making albums from the 1980’s. There were also a lot of soundtracks from musicals; he flipped past these quickly, his lip curling in disgust.
In the end he decided on David Bowie. Growing up he had listened to a lot of Bowie, due to his mother’s strong infatuation with him. It had been at least four years since he had listened to a Bowie album properly. He turned the volume up, letting the music fill the apartment.
Normally he didn’t linger after sex. This was because most of the chicks he picked up at bars bored the fuck out of him. Usually he started making excuses about having to go to work early the second his cock was back in his pants. Most of the women let him leave; they understood you shouldn’t expect commitment from a guy you took home from a bar.
But there was something about this girl. Her talent was undeniable. There might have been more that had pulled him in. Was it the high heels? Perhaps it was the feathered eyelashes or perfectly shaped fingernails? He thought it was mostly because when she looked at him there was no fear in her eyes, no remarkable flicker of doubt for him to notice. This was a chick that was very sure of herself, and this left him wanting more.
He had poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey when she entered. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn’t any shorter. She walked toward him, her heels clicking on the tiles. The false lashes were gone and her skin was paler now it was stripped of foundation. She was wearing a slightly baggy Kiss tank-top and he wasn’t sure if there was anything beneath it. Despite the dirtiness of the shirt she was still wearing the heels as if she were on a runway.
He pulled his glass out of her reach. He picked at her shirt, inspecting it. “What’s this you’re wearing? Is this what you wear to bed?”
“Yeah.” She replied innocently.
“If you think you’re going to bed, how come you’re still wearing the heels?” He inquired.
“Because they’re attached to my feet, I literally cannot take them off.” She informed him, walking out of the room before he could question her further.
He emptied his glass before following her. He found her opening the window overlooking the street below. Once she had the window open she climbed out. “Hey, where’re you goin’?”
“Didn’t you ever see Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” She asked. She continued too quickly, talking over his chance to scoff sarcastically. “The fire escape is the place to be seen. Turn the music up.” He went to the record player and had just begun to turn the volume dial when she poked her head back in. “Hurry up and get your ass out here, it’s a beautiful night.”
When he climbed out onto the iron platform she was slow-dancing by herself with her eyes closed. He rested against the windowsill while she went on, not noticing his presence. Her movements were fluid, her hair billowing out in a fan of gold as she spun around. He watched, slightly transfixed.
Then more pressing issues were brought to the forefront of his mind. “You mind if I smoke?”
“Go ahead.” She shrugged.
“Hey, what’s your name?” He asked as she stretched her legs out, taking a few moments to pretend she was a ballerina.
“Lady Gaga.” She replied.
He gave a quick chuckle because he knew it was a joke. “Yeah, I know. But what’s your real name?”
“Lady Gaga is my real name.” She said.
“Right, that’s your stage name. But what’s your name when you’re off the stage, in the real world?” He asked.
She stopped moving so she could stare directly at him. She stood with her shoulders back and when she spoke there was nothing but certainly in her voice, no hints of trepidation to make her statement mean less. “I’m never off the stage, my name is Lady Gaga. I used to be someone else but now I’m Gaga.”
She had captured his curiosity. “Who did you used to be?”
“What made you move to New York Jo?” She inquired, not taking so much as a second to decide she wasn’t going to answer his question.
He let out an exasperated sigh, a cloud of smoke billowing from his mouth. He looked over to where she was sitting, smiling at him. She knew she had won; there was no point in fighting this.
“I got stabbed in the head.”
Her eyes popped and her jaw dropped. “What? Someone stabbed you in the head? What did you do to deserve that?”
“I messed with the wrong guy’s girl.” He stated.
“How are you still alive?” She marvelled. “Where’s the scar?”
“I cover the scar with my hair so I don’t have to tell the story to every person I meet on the street. The knife was pretty blunt; the guy was too dumb to do any real damage. It barely fractured my skull; I was out of hospital, in like, three days.” He explained, flicking his cigarette, watching it whiz away.
“Was she worth it?” She asked softly.
He scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’m pretty sure I only did it to piss him off because I was that bored with my life. It was a good wake-up call. I’d lived in the same town my whole life so I came out here for a fresh start; this seemed like the right place to start.”
“New York is the right place for everything.” She stated. “I was born here and I can’t imagine being anywhere else. The people, the energy on the streets, the lights, the…everything. It’s magical here.”
“I’m startin’ to realize that.” He said to her.
She smiled and grabbed his hands, pulling him off of the sill. “Come on, the next song is the best one.” She climbed into the apartment, turning the music up louder. She re-emerged, cheering. Once she was back on the fire escape she ran on the spot, clapping her hands. She began to bound around, pushing herself off of the railings.
She was deeply unimpressed when she saw how little he was moving. She grabbed him by the hips and began to guide him into dancing. They bounced to the beat, then he started stomping his feet while she waved her arms. They jumped around in the limited space of the fire escape as if it were a mosh pit. They sang loudly, shouting at each other.
When the song finished they both fell to exhausted laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had this much fun. He was glad there wasn’t a clock anywhere in sight. Surely the reality of time would spoil their party.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “You’re kinda crazy.” He said. “I like it.”
After their burst of energetic dancing it was decided they needed refreshments. He poured her a separate glass of whiskey so there was no danger of her stealing his drink again. Her neighbours had to yell out several times and eventually they turned the music off.
Her bedroom was covered in clothes. The wardrobe was open and over-spilling. Discarded clothes were strewn across her bed. The floor was barely visible beneath all of the dirty garments. Magnificent dresses of all different colours hung from the curtain rod. Everywhere he looked he was faced with clothes, he felt as if he were in a store.
They lay down on her bed together. Then they did something he had never done while on a woman’s bed: they talked. They shared funny stories, keeping the conversation light and making each other laugh. He was very comfortable, sprawled out on his back in the middle of the bed with his fingers tracing circles onto the small of her back, her heels waving around in the air.
He asked her about her music and once she began talking it seemed impossible for her to stop. He listened, only slightly distracted by the warmness of her skin. She told him of her plans, a passionate fire burning in her eyes. He envied her motivation.
“I know I’m a rock star, I’m just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.” She said.
“What happens if you’re thirty and you still haven’t gotten a record deal?” He asked.
“I’ll get blind drunk on my birthday so I don’t realize what’s going on, then I can be happy.” She said. “Then the next day I’ll write new songs, better songs because I can’t be anything else but a musician. That’s why I make such a shitty waitress.”
She was rolling his fingers between her own and she looked at this, instead of meeting his eyes, as she continued. “I know you probably don’t get it, but I think you should know…”
“No.” He cut in. “Yeah, you’re right I don’t really get it, but it’s cool.”
She smiled shyly. “Cool.”
She lifted herself up to put her lips to his. She paused, lingering a few inches from his lips, smiling uncertainly at him. She leant in closer, breathing heavily but still not kissing him. He decided to put an end to the teasing; he grabbed her and mashed his lips against hers. She laughed as he flipped them over so he was on top. She grinned as he hovered over her.
He kissed her hot and fast. She wrapped her arms securely around him, sliding her tongue into his mouth and curling her leg around his waist again. He groaned when she dragged her nails up his arms. His lips wandered over to her cheek. His eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was her bedside clock. This instantly shattered the moment.
He sprung up, her arms ripping off of him. “Holy fuck!”
“What?” She asked, sitting up slightly with her legs still tangled around him. “What’s wrong?”
“Is that clock right?” He asked.
“Yeah.” She replied simply. “Why?”
He tried to figure out how to remove her legs so he could move. “I have to go I gotta be at work in like three hours. I need to go home and change and get all your lipstick off my face.”
“Oh.” She responded, untwisting her legs. “Um...” She grabbed his hand and started writing something on his palm.
He looked from the writing to her, his eyebrows raised. “What’re you doin’?”
“Giving you my phone number.” She said.
“Don’t bother; I don’t have a phone to call you from.” He dismissed.
She paused, leaning back and staring, disbelieving. “You don’t have a phone?”
“No.”
“None at all?”
“No.”
“Why not?” She asked.
“Why?” He returned. “Everyone is so desperate to be in contact these days: you’ve got the phone at home, the answering machine, the cell phone to carry around, the pager, the internet and all the shit that comes with it. It’s like nobody knows how to be alone; they all got somethin’ to say all of the time. Me, I go out when I want to see people. When I’m at home I sleep and relax.” He nudged his shoulder against hers. “Now you can’t get angry at me for not calling you.”
She smiled weakly. “Right.”
He ventured into the main room where he found his shirt and returned his shoes to his feet. He couldn’t see his belt anywhere. He couldn’t remember when it had been removed. Had they been against the wall or had she removed it before then? He peered at the couch but it wasn’t there. The only belt he could see was hers, lying with her crumpled tights and ruined panties.
He had just realized his fly was lying undone when she emerged from the bedroom. “I’ll come back and see you at the bar again soon.”
“You don’t have to say shit like that to cushion the blow or whatever. I’m a grown-up girl; I know how a one-night-stand goes.” She informed him.
“Whoa, hold up.” He instructed. “Calm down. If this was a one-night-stand how come I stayed for like five hours after sex, how come I listened to you talking about your music? So shut up and just be grateful.”
She looked as if she were fighting very hard to stop a smile from emerging on her face. She folded her arms across her chest, trying to act annoyed. “I’ll be defensive if I wanna.”
“You’re fuckin’ adorable.” He said, pressing a kiss onto the back of her hand. “And I’m gonna come see another show because I wanna see you in those stripper clothes again.” Grinning at her he gave her ass a quick slap and left, without his belt.
As he left down the stairs he rolled himself a cigarette. After smoking for seven years rolling a cigarette had become second nature, he hardly had to concentrate and this allowed him to put his attention on not falling down the stairs. He sealed the cigarette with his saliva and tucked it behind his ear for later.
He stepped out onto the cold street. As always with New York there were cars everywhere. He didn’t have to wait long to see a yellow coloured cab. He hailed it and stepped toward the gutter. The cab was pulling up and he had just begun toward it when he heard a voice from behind him.
“Hey Jo!” It was Gaga yelling. He turned to see her standing on her fire escape. Her hands were balled up at the hem of her shirt. In a quick movement she yanked the top up and thanks to the streetlamps he saw everything. He was frozen instantly, unable to look away from her perky breasts.
He lost balance, stepping out blindly and falling against the cab. She laughed loudly and when he turned back to look she had replaced the shirt over her torso. A proud grin stretched across her face. Still laughing she raised her hand, wiggling her fingers at him. “Good night.” She climbed through the window, disappearing behind the curtains a few moments later.
He opened the cab door and collapsed into the seat. Somehow he recalled his address and gave it to the driver. He removed the cigarette and lit it instantly. His pants suddenly felt very tight. Taking a drag from the cigarette he glanced back at the darkened window, he had never met anyone like her before. Lady Gaga was the real deal.
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