to love in all this mess, part two

[forcedmovement]

Part One

Audrey doesn't see Jac for another week, but she ends up talking on the phone with her almost every day.

She doesn't know how it happens, exactly, but she'll see something that reminds her of something she'd told Jac about and she has to call her, or Jac will call her up to ask what that restaurant she recommended was, and they end up talking about nothing for hours and hours.

She learns all kinds of unexpected things about Jac, from her favorite color to childhood toys to the guys she'd dated in high school. Jac is a Taurus (which, thank fucking god they're not in a relationship, Audrey's a Leo and it would be utter disaster) and an only child, and up until recently was studying photography at UCLA.

"Why did you leave?" Audrey had asked. She hadn't been given the option to go to college since her parents were hippies who thought she'd be better off following her own, non-expensive path. So she'd followed it all the way to California, miles and miles away from her crazy fucking parents. It's not that she'd wanted to deal with another four years of school, it was never what she was meant to do, but sometimes she thinks it would have been nice to have the chance.

"I wanted a change," was all Jac had said, and Audrey didn't press the issue. It happens sometimes, where Jac's voice goes sort of dry and flat, usually when talking about her recent past. The best Audrey can figure is that Jac is running from something, and if she doesn't want to talk about it, Audrey is fine with that.

Alicia books them for a Saturday night show eventually. Pete's fingers are better, but not perfect, and Audrey really doesn't want him to use the wooden hand again. They'd played a show at another club last week and things got thrown, fucking cocksuckers. But Tom shows up at rehearsals again with all kinds of excuses that Audrey really doesn't care about, and things are looking up.

She texts Jac about the upcoming show and asks her if she's going to be there that night.

You think Alicia would let me work on a saturday? Youre cute.

Jac says things like that a lot, calling Audrey cute or adorable, or using words like "darling". Audrey doesn't know if she should be uncomfortable or not. They're supposed to be just friends, but she's never actually had a real female friend before, and maybe it's normal.

mayeb. i dont work for her, how wold i know?havent u been there like a month?

Yeah she's intense about schedules. I'll be at the show tho. Need to see shit family in all of its glory :)

Audrey rolls her eyes, because whatever, it's a cheap shot and they really are getting better at rehearsals. Frank is pretty good on bass for someone who's never played it before and Tom is an awesome guitarist when he bothers to show up.

She ignores the text and focuses on learning the lyrics to the new song they're previewing at the show, written by Pete during his sleepless manic nights. They're pretty good, some of his best really, which is probably a shit thing to say considering he had to lose his mind to write them. But Audrey never knows what to say in this situation. She's not his mother, she can't chide him for going off his meds, and they need his lyrics. Shit Family does not need any more fucking disadvantages.

Whatever. Audrey puts it out of her mind and focuses on Saturday's show instead. She's got a good feeling about it, an electricity in the pit of her stomach that's building and crackling. Jac is going to be there and it'll be good. It'll be great.

* * * * *

"Why did I think it was a good idea to invite him? Please. Somebody. Tell me," Frank says, pacing back and forth backstage like he's had too much Red Bull. He probably has.

Audrey taps her foot on the floor impatiently, trying to focus more on the calming beat it makes and less on her currently freaking out usually-guitar-but-temporary-bass-player.

"It's going to be fine," she says out loud, hoping against all hopes that all that stuff about how believing in something turns it real is actually true. This is supposed to be a good night.

Frank slams himself into the wall and starts beating his head against it, which really can't be good for his health or his musical talent. "I saw him out in the audience. He's wearing tight jeans. He looks so fucking hot Audrey, and now I have to get onstage and play bass in front of him."

Audrey didn't know it was possible to make the word bass sound like a swear word, but Frank manages it. She wrenches Frank away from the wall and stares him in the eyes. "Look at me. You're a great performer. We've actually had rehearsals this week. This is going to be a fucking fantastic show, and if it's not, Gerard won't care. He came all the way to see a band called Shit Family, okay? He's not doing that because he thinks we sound like a culturally enriching experience. He's here for you."

Frank looks down at his shoes, ashamed. "I like our band name," he says, softly.

"Me too," Audrey says, smiling. "So let's go rock some fucking faces off."

It is a good show, the best one they've had in awhile. Frank's a ball of energy, rocketing around the stage like he's on fire, and Audrey notices Gerard shimmying towards the back of the pit. He looks like a huge dork, shaking his head and hips completely out of time to the music, but it's sweet.

She sees Jac too, sitting on top of the bar and grinning at Audrey. Not at Shit Family, but at Audrey, and their eyes lock for a minute. Audrey throws her middle finger up in the air just for Jac, not sure if she'll see it and not caring. It feels right in the moment. But Jac gets the message, laughing and raising her glass in return.

Pete cheers them on from the side stage and comes on for the last song to scream into Audrey's microphone. The crowd eats it up, yelling and throwing their fists in the air and no one says a word about pirates.

When they get offstage, Jac is waiting for them with a round of drinks on a tray.

"I thought you weren't working tonight?" Audrey asks her, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a towel. It's kind of awesome being just friends with Jac. If she were trying to hit on her she'd have to hide all of her sweaty grossness, but she doesn't have to bother anymore.

Jac nods. "I'm not working. I had to steal this from a waitress, and let me tell you, she is not happy."

Frank ignores them, looking around the club desperately. "Do you see him anywhere?"

Audrey nudges him in the shoulder and points to the bar, where Gerard is sitting on a stool and staring at them awkwardly, like he's unsure of whether to come over or not. Frank waves enthusiastically and bounds over.

"What was that?" Jac asks, swinging around to look at them.

"Frank has a new boyfriend," Audrey says, grabbing a drink off the tray. She never realizes how thirsty she is until after she gets off stage and comes down off the performing high.

"That he stupidly brought to the show where we could all torture him," Pete chimes in. He heads off towards the bar with Chris and Tom, their heads pressed together, looking for all the world like a group of plotting harpies.

Jac stares at them, eyebrows raised. "Should we help him?"

Audrey sighs. "Probably. Are you sure, though? You haven't had to spend time around my band yet. I thought we'd try to keep it that way for a little bit longer. You know. For your sanity."

"I can handle it," Jac says. Audrey's not sure she's ready to share Jac with any of her boys yet, but that guilty squirmy feeling rises up in her tummy when she thinks about abandoning Frank.

Chris is grilling Gerard on his intentions with Frank by the time they reach the bar, and Gerard is beet red. Frank is red too, but Audrey's not sure if that's embarrassment or anger.

"Okay, interrogation over," she says, easing herself in between them. She holds out her hand. "I'm Audrey, I'll be your savior this evening."

Gerard's handshake is like everything else about him; kind of sweaty and awkward, but somehow endearing. "I'm Gerard, which you probably already know."

"I do. And I have a whole speech prepared about how if you hurt my best friend, I will murder you in your sleep and they won't ever find a body, but Frank's suffered enough tonight so I won't say it. You'll just have to come over the apartment for it some other time. But right now, if you're any kind of intelligent, you'll take Frank somewhere where the vultures aren't swarming."

Frank intercedes, nodding forcefully. "I could go for coffee."

Gerard looks relaxed for the first time tonight, beaming like he did the first time Audrey saw him at the art show. "Coffee sounds great."

They walk towards the door as fast as two people can without actually running, Gerard mumbling "nice to meet you," and Frank mouthing that he owes Audrey big.

Audrey twirls back around to face her remaining band mates, bracing herself for the whining. It's worse than that, though. They focus all their immediate attention on Jac.

"Is this Jac?" Pete asks, blinking at her.

"This is," Jac says. She's smiling valiantly, like a gazelle who hasn't realized she's surrounded by hyenas. Horrible, laughing hyenas that are out to destroy Audrey's life.

"We've heard a lot about you," Pete says.

"I haven't," Tom pipes up, but they ignore him. They usually do.

Chris looks at her longingly. "You have great hair," he says, and Jac flinches almost imperceptibly. "You're much prettier than Audrey's last girlfriend."

Audrey would have spit out her drink if she'd been drinking anything. "She's not my girlfriend and you know that. Don't be a dick."

Jac just grins though, stepping a little closer to Chris. "Audrey had a girlfriend?"

"Audrey's had several," he says, leaning in conspiratorially. "You're definitely the prettiest."

Jac gives Audrey a 'who knew' sort of look, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm honestly shocked, Audrey. I didn't think you had the dating gene."

"I don't. They all failed," she snaps, sinking into the stool behind her sullenly. She starts tearing a napkin into shreds, putting all her visualizing skills to work. Rip, there goes Pete's ear. Rip, that's a chunk of Chris's hair.

Jac nudges her foot with her own suddenly, forcing Audrey to look at her face. "Hey, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about that. Do you want to get out of here?"

Audrey hesitates, glancing at the boys who are doing a terrible job pretending to look away. "Uh, is that the best idea?"

"I'm not trying to seduce you, idiot, I'm trying to actually hang out with you for once. Like friends do?"

"Oh. Well, okay," Audrey says, sliding off the stool. She doesn't ask where they're going, and it doesn't feel like it matters.

Jac bumps into her hip immediately when they step outside the bar. "Hey, hey you," she says, giving her a small smile.

"Mmm?" Audrey asks, folding her arms and looking at Jac.

"You don't actually have to go anywhere with me. You just looked pissed in there, I thought I'd rescue you. I guess that's like instant karma for giving Gerard the out earlier, right?" She laughs sharply even though she hasn't said anything particularly funny, and it doesn't reach her eyes.

Audrey doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches Jac fiddle with her hair. "But if I wanted to hang out," she starts.

"Just name the place," Jac finishes, grinning from ear to ear.

* * * * *

Audrey drags Jac to a drugstore and keeps her waiting outside until she's done buying supplies. When she dumps them out on the coffee table at her apartment ten minutes later, Jac looks utterly confused

"We're dyeing your hair," Audrey says.

It takes Jac a minute to get it, a minute to remember, but her face lights up when she does.

Audrey won't ruin Jac's perfect blonde base, but she gives her streaks in all colors: blue and purple and orange and red, a complete rainbow.

"Now you can be anyone you want," Audrey says with satisfaction when she's done (many hours and stained fingers later).

"I look so fucking dumb," Jac says, staring at herself in the mirror. She can't stop smiling, can't stop running her fingers through her hair. "It's perfect."

She holds up the small streak of pink near her left ear, examining it closely. "I think this is my favorite though. It's kind of like a piece of you in my hair. Which sounds kind of gross when I say it like that, but you know."

Audrey doesn't answer. She doesn't have any fucking idea how to say that she'd been thinking the same thing the whole time.

* * * * *

It takes her exactly two weeks, three days, and one hour after that to realize she's falling for Jac Vanek.

In other terms: three movies that Jac had watched on Audrey's couch, brushing hands while reaching for popcorn and laughing at all the same parts; two band rehearsals that Jac had rocked out at, dancing around the basement like it was a club and knocking over equipment and paint cans; and one night where she had passed out on Audrey's lap after a vigorous game of Scrabble with Frank and Gerard. (Audrey had lost. Miserably. She never had been any good at spelling.)

It feels like being a deer in headlights, almost. She can see everything falling apart around her, see how she's doing the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't, not with Jac, not with anyone.

"Of course I'm happy with your father. Why on earth would you ask that?" her mother had said to her when she was nine years old, and Audrey had pretended to believe her, never mentioning the childhood diary she'd found in an old box in the attic. It had been filled with her mother's future plans, dreams of joining Doctors Without Borders and cut out pictures of all the places in the world she wanted to see. Things she'd never told Audrey about. Things she never achieved.

She'd wanted to save the world, and as Audrey had watched her mother tend to her garden in a dirt-covered shirt, she'd tasted real disappointment for the first time.

When she'd told Frank about her mother and the diary, he'd given her a thoughtful look and said, "But, Aud, you know it doesn't work like that, with what we do. It helps to fall in love sometimes even if it fucking sucks at the end. You can write good music with emotion like that."

And maybe he'd been right, but it had come thirteen years too late and she doesn't know how to change her habits at all, doesn't know how to lose herself in a relationship.

Audrey doesn't say anything to anyone. She can't risk fucking it all up with Jac, not when it's finally working, especially not when she rejected Jac in the first place. So she grits her teeth whenever Jac touches her and doesn't ever let herself imagine a world where she's sweeter and nicer and just better, and maybe they could make it work.

But her dreams don't behave the way her thoughts do. They're filled with Jac kissing her ear and Jac unzipping her dress and Jac, and she wakes up every morning knowing she's fucking things up anyway just by feeling this. She clings to Jac as much as she dares, savoring every minute of her horrible, stupid addiction.

It's not like it's all perfect, being friends with Jac. There are the ugly things too, things she tries her hardest not to notice because knowing means responsibility. The way Jac reads food labels sometimes when she thinks no one is looking, or the guilty look on her face when she reaches for another candy bar. The awkward, silent moments when Audrey knows she's said something that reminds Jac of her past. The way she downs shots on the weekends until she's falling down drunk, and the way she cries when she thinks Audrey can't hear her on the drive home.

Sometimes, Audrey can't help but think that maybe she's not the only reason their relationship would never work out. And sometimes, late at night when she's only half-awake and unable to control the direction of her thoughts, she thinks that maybe she's not the reason at all.

* * * * *

Audrey comes to the bar for Jac's first Saturday night bartending, fresh from a show at a seedy club eight blocks over. The place is packed but Jac waves her over to a seat at the bar she'd saved and takes her order with a beaming smile before bouncing off to another customer.

When the light catches her, Audrey can see the sweat glistening on her face, the only sign that she's nervous at all. It makes her glow.

It's a torturous hour waiting for Jac's shift to end. Jac flirts shamelessly with everyone, flashing them vibrant smiles that Audrey remembers all too well from the first night she met Jac. Alicia catches Audrey digging her fingernails viciously into the bar and raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. Audrey's not sure if that's a good thing.

Jac is fucking flying by the time she ducks out from the bar for the night. She's got a permanent smile on her face and links her arm with Audrey's, pulling them outside while blowing kisses to her best tippers.

"Audrey, it was perfect. God. So much better than the weeknight crowd. I did okay, yeah? Considering?"

She fixes Audrey with a hopeful smile and Audrey can't say anything but yes. She tries to keep her voice light but she knows she sounds tense, knows that Jac's bound to pick up on it. Hell, maybe that's what she wants.

Sure enough, the bounce in Jac's step falters and she gives Audrey a startled look, like she's just seeing her for the first time tonight. And really, Audrey thinks that she is.

"We didn't hang out much tonight, did we?" Jac asks cautiously, and Audrey can hear a hint of desperation in her voice.

"You were working," Audrey replies. She attempts to give Jac a reassuring smile, but her mouth won't form anything other than a grimace. She knows that how she feels is not Jac's fault, that she's spoiling Jac's moment with selfishness and stupidity, but her insides won't listen to reason.

Jac's face is inscrutable, but flashes of hurt and anger and confusion dance in her eyes. Audrey wishes more than anything that she could start this conversation over.

"Still," Jac says slowly, "you must have been bored. It's not too late now, if you wanted to talk or something."

Audrey shrugs. "We could go somewhere," she says, trying her best to sound willing, ignoring the hurt feelings as much as she can.

Jac breaks into a nervous smile and nods vigorously. "We could go to your apartment, watch a movie or something? Or just talk. Whatever you want."

"Can't," Audrey says, shrugging helplessly. "I promised Frank I'd stay out for a few hours. Gerard's over." She doesn't mean to sound so uncooperative, but she can't think of any alternatives. The night is slowly slipping into a total waste.

"We could go to my apartment," Jac offers, surprising Audrey. Jac hasn't asked her there since the night they met, and Audrey's not sure if it's because of the awkward memories or some other reason Jac has never bothered to share with her.

"Sure," Audrey agrees impulsively, and when Jac takes her by the hand and leads her to a cab, Audrey closes her eyes and pretends it means something more.

* * * * *

Jac's apartment is tinier than she remembered. She supposes she'd been too preoccupied with Jac's tongue down her throat the last time she was here to really notice anything, and she looks around at the peeling wallpaper and strange stains on the carpet vaguely wishing she had a distraction now.

It reminds Audrey of the place she'd lived in when she'd first moved to California, the one she'd had before moving in with Frank. Only she'd covered every inch of that fucker with tacky zebra print curtains and mismatched lamps she'd pick up at garage sales, trying desperately to make it feel like home. And it had been, for a time. She'd worked hard and made it her own and there was some kind of pride to be found there.

Jac's got nothing. There's some furniture, cushions on the floor and a small television set, but there's nothing that indicates anyone's really living here. It's like a squatter's residence, the kind she'd seen some of her high school friends living in. They never put up anything sentimental or valuable because living day to day didn't afford them that luxury. "Personality is for permanent homes," they'd said, and Audrey replays the phrase in her head, staring at the undecorated walls.

Audrey knows Jac's not living here illegally, knows it in her gut and mind. Jac doesn't have that harried, squirrely look her friends had had whenever they'd hung out in their weird little warehouses and smoked pot. And more importantly, she's Jac. There are so many unanswered questions about Jac, so many things left up in the air, but Audrey can't imagine this is one of them. It doesn't fit.

Jac presses a rum and coke into her hand and gives her an awkward sort of smile. "So, there's not much to do here. We could watch TV but I don't get that many channels and there's never really anything on anyway."

"That happens even with two hundred channels, believe me," Audrey says, and she knows it's a stupid joke but Jac obligingly laughs anyway.

"I remember that," Jac replies, gulping down her own drink. Audrey pretends not to notice that it's a much lighter color than her own, pretends not to notice that she can smell the alcohol from where she's standing.

* * * * *

The first half hour is the most awkward time Audrey's spent with Jac in the past few weeks. It's like they've never known each other at all, and fill silences with idle chat and observations about the weather.

"It's drier here than where I'm from," Jac says, mentioning her past for the second time tonight. It feels like dangerous territory and Audrey ignores her.

"I've never been to New Mexico," she says out loud. "I hear it's dry there."

Jac nods seriously and Audrey vaguely thinks that the alcohol may be getting to both of them.

* * * * *

"Llamas."

"Oh, good one. Uh, lemurs."

"Fuck, I was going to say lemurs. Do locusts count?"

"Sure, why not. Lemon sharks."

"Lobster."

"You already said lobster."

"Fuck."

"I win. Want to do animals that start with S now?"

* * * * *

Three hours in, Audrey's pretty sure she doesn't remember how to stand anymore.

Jac is unusually quiet, staring at the ceiling and mumbling to herself. It should be worrying but Audrey spent the last ten minutes whispering, "Accio gum," at her purse, so she's not judging.

Still, the last thing she can remember saying was something about her parents' house in Philly, and Jac had gotten a sour look on her face and retreated into her hoodie. Audrey feels like she should say something, but the words don't come and she just looks at her helplessly.

But Jac speaks up a minute later, saving Audrey the attempt.

"Your parents were hippie freaks, right?"

Audrey cocks her head to the side. "Still are, as far as I know. God, I wasn't allowed to eat anything other than granola and tofu for years."

Jac falls silent again and Audrey starts to feel a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach. She thinks she should get up and leave before this conversation goes any further, but she has no idea how to move.

"But they loved you. They were stupid, but they loved you," Jac snaps, turning her head to stare into Audrey's eyes.

Audrey doesn't respond, but it's too late now, and Jac opens her mouth again.

"My parents hate me. Did you know that? They hate you too. They've never even met you and they hate you. Audrey Kitching probably just sounds like a fucking clothing brand to them. But they hate you because you fuck girls. And me. They hate me because I fuck girls. You know who they love? Jesus. They love fucking Jesus more than they love me. I'm the only fucking child too. I don't have any siblings. Did I ever tell you that? Of course not, I never tell you anything about me. Nothing real, anyway. I mean, you know how I get my sub at Subway. But my life? Oh no, that's some big fucking government secret."

She pauses for a minute in her drunken tirade, flopping back onto the floor and guzzling rum straight from the bottle now, not bothering with a mixer or hell, even a glass.

"Jac," Audrey says, knowing it's useless, knowing the whole goddamn waterfall is coming now. She's too drunk for this. Fuck, she's not drunk enough for this. She never wanted to get this close, she can't even deal with her own issues.

Jac struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, shaking her head emphatically. "No, let's be honest here for once. I live in a shithole. I've never even unpacked my clothes. They're still in my fucking suitcase because I'm waiting for mommy and daddy to come rescue me from all this shit. I want them to love me better than their fucking religion and tell me they're sorry and just, just fucking love me. And they can't fucking do that. Why can't they do that? I got straight As in high school, and I got into a good college, and I was a virgin. I was a fucking virgin. And I tried to be perfect for them and thin for them and it was never good enough. Not ever. I'm still going to hell. And my own parents won't even care. They don't want me anymore. I'm wrong. Why did I come out wrong?"

Her voice breaks, suddenly. "Why won't they love me more?"

Audrey can't look at Jac's face. She stares at the floor, listening to Jac's breath hitch in her throat as she tries to keep herself from crying, and knows that if she were a better person she would be able to do something other than freeze. But she's not. She's just...Audrey. Fucking Audrey.

"And you're just the same," Jac says in between her gasping, hiccupping breaths, so quietly Audrey thinks she may have imagined it.

"What?"

"You. You're the same," Jac says, loud enough that Audrey can't mistake anything she's saying. "You won't love me either. And this friends bullshit? Why are we even bothering? I want more than that. You want more than that. I know you do. But you won't fucking let it happen. What the hell, Audrey? Is this fun for you?"

Jac's glaring at her now, all evidence of tears and sadness completely gone, and Audrey can feel the bile rising in her throat. Everything is so fucking wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, not tonight or their relationship or anything.

"I like being friends with you," Audrey says, and her voice feels smaller than it ever has before.

"Too bad," Jac snaps. "I don't."

Audrey presses her hands to her temples and squeezes her eyes shut. This can't be happening. This just doesn't happen, not to her. She's the one who gets angry and freaks out on people and ruins friendships, lives, whatever. Not Jac. God, her head hurts.

"You're drunk," she says finally, opening up her eyes and looking at Jac. "You're a fucking mess. You need to go sleep. Not on your back, because you'll choke on your vomit, or something. That kills people, right?" She's talking desperately, stupidly, trying to change what's happening somehow.

Jac snorts at her. "You're the rock star, Audrey. You would know."

"Stop. Stop. Stop doing that, fuck, Jac. You sound like me. You're not me."

"Thanks for that enlightening lesson," Jac replies. She stands up, unsteadily, and her hand flies to her forehead, then in Audrey's direction. It's a salute. It's a 'fuck you'. "I'm going to bed. Stay here, or whatever. I don't care. If I choke on my own vomit, it's not your responsibility. You're not my fucking girlfriend remember? You're not my anything."

Audrey watches her stumble off to her bedroom and braces herself for the door slam sure to come. It doesn't. It's just one more thing she's wrong about.

* * * * *

She doesn't cry when she lets herself out of the apartment. She doesn't cry when she throws up in the bush next to the building. But the minute Frank says "Hello?" her eyes fill up and she's sobbing, gasping for air and clutching at the phone like it's her lifeline.

He picks her up and won't accept her apology for ruining his date. She's so fucking sorry, and he won't listen, won't let her apologize.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he says, firmly. It doesn't make her feel any better.

He stays in her room that night, brushing the hair from her eyes and repeating "It's okay, it's alright" in hushed tones.

Audrey doesn't fucking deserve any of it.

* * * * *

Jac leaves ten voicemails on her phone over the next two weeks. Audrey deletes them all. It's easy to do, letting her instincts take over when she sees Jac's number on her missed calls list. Her fingers press buttons without a second thought.

"You're going to have to talk to her eventually," Frank tells her every so often. He's always right and Audrey knows it, but she throws a penny into the water fountain in the mall and wishes for him to be wrong. Just this once.

She doesn't miss Jac as much as she thought she would, considering. Jac hovers around the edges of her mind every day, but thinking about her makes Audrey feel nauseous. It's not sadness or longing or anything that she expected.

She hasn't been back to the bar since that night, booking Shit Family to play other venues instead. The band doesn't question her decision. Pete and Chris never mention Jac's sudden absence from their lives, and Audrey imagines that Frank must have told them, because she hadn't. She couldn't.

Jac stops calling Audrey's phone after the second week. It should feel like a victory, being able to check her phone again without the fear of seeing Jac's name. Or maybe it should even feel like a loss.

But it doesn't feel like anything and Audrey thinks that she's getting over it, somehow, and maybe she and Jac were never as close as she thought they were. And soon enough, she's able to convince herself that she never loved Jac at all.

* * * * *

They sit her down with box of red velvet cupcakes from her favorite local bakery and say, "We need to talk."

"I'm sure this conversation is going somewhere wonderful," Audrey says sullenly, crossing her arms. She knows she's being childish but she can't bring herself to care, not when her entire band (minus Tom, naturally) have cornered her into some stupid intervention masquerading as a band meeting.

Frank studiously ignores her tone and plunges on. "Audrey, Alicia wants us to play on Friday."

"Oh?" Audrey asks, trying to sound as bored and nonchalant as she can. She ignores the twinge in her gut and watches Pete nudge the box of cupcakes towards her slowly.

"We think it's...well. We think we should," Frank tells her, his calm demeanor faltering for the first time. "It's our steadiest job with the best crowd, Aud, and if you're not ready we can say no but we need to go back sometime. If you can just tell us when you think you might be able to play, that's fine too. Just...give me something to tell her."

It's the faint pleading note in his voice that gets to her, stirring up guilt. Chris puts his hand on her shoulder reassuringly and says, "I bet we can get Alicia to schedule Jac for some other night."

Hearing Jac's name after so long feels like a slap in the face. Audrey inhales deeply, steadying herself, and when she's sure her voice won't shake at all she says, "That's fine, it doesn't matter. We can play on Friday."

Frank and Pete stare at her in astonishment, like they didn't think it could possibly be this easy.

"Are you sure you don't want a cupcake first?" Frank asks, bewildered.

Audrey clicks her tongue in vague annoyance. "No."

The meeting breaks up with murmured thanks and firm hugs and Pete assuring her that it'll be alright.

"You're our Amazon, Audrey. You can do anything," he says in her ear, and Audrey feels her shell cracking, breaking.

She doesn't dare reach for a cupcake until she's sure the boys are gone, and even then she only sneaks a bite. It tastes like tears, and Audrey realizes they're her own, streaming down her face for the first time in weeks.

It's over in a minute, stopping as soon as it started. Her insides feel like shattered glass but she'll glue them back together. She has to glue them back together.

* * * * *

She's about to leave the salon for the night when a timid voice behind her says, "Audrey?"

She turns and sees the annoying brunette giving her a hopeful look, holding up the book of sample cuts and colors they show to undecided clients.

"I just had a quick question about one of these," she continues, cringing a little. "I can't find anyone else who isn't busy. I know you're leaving but-"

"I'll help you," Audrey cuts her off sharply.

She's in the middle of explaining the technique when it occurs to her. The girl is staring at her with pink cheeks and rapt attention and she thanks Audrey for helping with an embarrassed smile. When she turns to go, Audrey calls her back.

"Hanna Beth? That's your name, right?"

She nods, twirling a strand of dark brown hair around her finger, and Audrey helplessly pictures Jac.

You mean nothing, she thinks to herself.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" she says out loud.

* * * * *

She brings Hanna Beth backstage, defiantly glaring at her bandmates and daring them to comment. They don't say anything to her face, but she sees them huddling in the corner and whispering feverishly to each other.

"This is...wow. I've never been anywhere like this before," Hanna Beth says, staring around with wide eyes and talking louder than she needs to. "It's really loud."

"It'd be quieter if you weren't screaming," Audrey mutters under her breath, but Hanna Beth is too busy examining a guitar to hear her.

She kisses Hanna Beth before they step on stage, digging her nails into her hip bones hard enough to leave marks. Hanna Beth looks up at her breathlessly when she walks away and it feels like power.

"Please don't be stupid," Frank whispers in her ear on his way to Pete's bass, and Audrey pretends she can't hear him over the crowd.

She introduces them with the usual speech, but recklessly improvises the introduction to the second song.

"This song is for everyone who makes stupid decisions. It's not because we're stupid, it's because we just don't give a fuck," she purrs into the microphone, grinning wildly. The crowd cheers and pumps their fists in the air and Audrey chooses not to look at the faces of any of her band members.

The show isn't great. There's bitter energy on stage and no one is quite in sync with each other. She takes Hanna Beth's hand as soon as it's over and pulls her into the club, not bothering to look back at any of her band mates, ignoring Frank's calls.

"We're not going to hang out with your band?" Hanna asks Audrey, looking back at the stage with a mixture of disappointment and confusion.

Audrey shakes her head, casting discreet glances around the room. "No, not tonight. I'm with you. You should have my full attention."

The bitch in her almost laughs at her own words, but she manages to choke it back in time and smiles instead, bright and false and cheery. She remembers the way she used to smile (before Jac, a voice hisses in her head) to girls she picked up at bars, all interest and fascination and the slightest hint of a predator stalking its prey. It feels alien to do it now.

They grab a table and Audrey immediately flags down a waitress and orders a tray of shots. She fake laughs at Hanna Beth's attempts at jokes and takes two shots back to back, scanning the crowd as she swallows.

"I'm just, you know, I'm surprised," Hanna Beth says, looking at Audrey expectantly. Audrey hasn't heard a word of what she said, but she nods and makes a noncommittal noise in her throat in response.

"Because I kind of figured you didn't like me very much," Hanna continues after a minute of awkward silence. "I didn't think you'd ask me out."

"You're crazy," Audrey forces herself to spit out, and she reaches across the table to grab Hanna Beth's hand. Her hands are tiny and delicate, smaller than Audrey's. (Smaller than Jac's.)

Hanna Beth glances down at her lap and laughs a little. "Really? I just, you always seemed so annoyed when I had a question, and I thought I heard you say something to Chris about me once..."

She looks back up at Audrey with an odd expression on her face. "Something about a dumb bitch."

Audrey's taken aback by Hanna's directness, and for a minute she doesn't know what to say. She laughs hollowly like it's a joke and desperately looks away, searching for some kind of response.

And then it doesn't matter.

She spots Jac at the bar, all the colors in her hair catching the light, and Audrey's stomach drops. And Jac is looking back at her, staring right at her, and in a moment she knows Jac is going to walk over to her. It's now or never.

To stupid decisions, she tells herself, and she kisses Hanna Beth until she can't breathe.

She doesn't look back at Jac when they break apart, but she gives Hanna a twisted smile and says, "People can change their minds. I was wrong about you before."

Hanna Beth runs her finger over her lips and doesn't say anything at all.

When Audrey chances another look at the bar, Jac is gone. She asks Hanna Beth back to her apartment less than five minutes later, barely hearing Hanna's yes. Her ears are full of fuzz, white noise that she tells herself has nothing to do with guilt.

They catch a cab and Audrey gives the driver her address. It feels like a memory, like she's reliving something from her distant past. She's about to touch Hanna Beth's leg out of pure reflex when Hanna's voice cuts across the cab.

"She's pretty."

Audrey stops short and stares at her. She's looking out the window at the streetlights and doesn't offer anything else to Audrey by way of explanation.

"Who is?" Audrey manages to say, but she knows the answer before it comes, hears it coursing through her veins.

"The girl with the rainbow hair. She's pretty," Hanna says, tracing the shape of a heart on the window.

She turns to Audrey with a soft, understanding look. "It's okay. Tonight doesn't have to mean anything. I get it."

It's like the sky crashing down and exploding in her head. Audrey doesn't know what to say, what to do, what to feel. Hanna leans across the seat and kisses her softly on the cheek, brushing her lips against her ear and whispering, "I can go home, Audrey. It'll be okay."

"I'm sorry," Audrey breathes out, exhaling for what feels like the first time since she seeing Jac at the bar.

Hanna smiles at her sweetly, sugar and spice. "I'm not. I liked seeing your band."

Audrey shakes her head, grasping Hanna's arm. "No, I mean...I'm sorry. For how I treated you. Tonight and...earlier."

"It's okay," Hanna Beth says easily. "I'm not great at my job. I know it's frustrating for you guys. I wish you'd given me more of a chance, but it's okay."

She gets out of the cab on a busy street corner and gives Audrey a hug goodbye. She smells like vanilla cupcakes and alcohol and Audrey feels like she's spiraling down even more when she lets her go. It feels like a lost chance at friendship, a missed opportunity slipping through her fingers.

Hanna pauses before shutting the cab door and ducks her head back in the car. "Can I ask what her name is?"

"Jac," Audrey replies, staring down at her wrinkled dress, and it echoes in her head louder than anything.

"Jac," Hanna repeats, a smile in her voice. She's gone before Audrey can look up again.

Frank is waiting for her when she gets home, springing to his feet the minute she walks through the door.

"We need to talk," he says, and his eyes are full of pity and disgust and everything Audrey can't handle right now.

"No, we don't," she snaps at him, "and I'd appreciate it if everyone would stop treating me like some kind of fucking Hester Prynne here."

Audrey hates herself for saying it but the alternative is breaking down, and she can't do that again, won't do that again. She slams her bedroom door behind her like a child and falls onto the bed shaking.

Sleep doesn't come no matter how hard she wills it, no matter how tightly she closes her eyes.

* * * * *

There's a knock on her bedroom door, and before Audrey can even respond, it opens.

It's Jac.

Audrey thinks for a moment that she should probably feel some kind of shock at seeing her, but she doesn't, not really at all.

"Frank called me," Jac says, easing into her room slowly. She looks thin, too fucking thin. That's all Audrey can see when she looks at her, sharp angles and clothes that don't fit right anymore. She's wearing a shirt Audrey's seen her in before, a red t-shirt that used to stretch on her stomach, flashing bits of skin here and there. It was perfect then.

"Frank should mind his own business," Audrey sighs. And she doesn't want to sound like a bitch, but she has to, she has to get rid of Jac now. While she still can.

Jac flinches and Audrey notices she looks shorter too, somehow. "I know I screwed up everything, okay? And you can be mad. You're right to be mad. But fuck, Audrey, bringing girls you hate to shows just to spite me? How is that going to make anything better?"

"You're here to talk to me about Hanna Beth?" Audrey asks, keeping her voice as flat as she can.

Jac wrings her hands and shakes her head, hard. "God, no. Sorry. I practiced this for weeks, you know, I had so much time to think about what I was going to say to you, but I'm fucking it up now. Shocker, right? Okay. Okay. It's not about that. What is it about? I don't know anymore. I can't remember anything I was going to say."

The only light in Audrey's room is coming from the lamp next to her bed, and Jac is nowhere near it. Too dark for Audrey to see the manic eyes, or the subtly shaking hands, but it doesn't matter. She can hear it now. It makes sense now.

"You're high," she says out loud. It's not a question.

"No. I mean, I'm not anymore. I'm fine now. I should be fine now. It was just this thing, last night. It's nothing," Jac says, unable to stop a nervous laugh from escaping her lips. Playing it off, the way Audrey's junkie friends in Philly used to do before their fourth line or popped pill of the day.

"Get out," Audrey says. She had no patience for their bullshit then, she has no patience for it now. Not even with Jac. Maybe especially not with Jac.

Jac backs herself up against the door, pressing her weight against it like she can stop the world if she just tries hard enough. "No, no, no. Audrey, please. I had no idea Frank was going to call this morning. I had no idea. I couldn't lose this chance, I had to come over. I don't do this shit usually, you know I don't, you know me. Please, you have to know that. I don't want to lose you. I can't, okay? You're the only friend I have here, or anywhere even, and I can't do it alone. I'm not strong enough. I keep saying that I'm fine but I'm not, I'm not, you're right. I'm a fucking mess. Everything has sucked so much. Everything. I just went to this party last night after seeing you with her, and it was just...it felt like an option, I guess. I wanted to feel better."

Audrey laughs then, sharp and bitter. Like she hasn't heard that before, like that's not how it always starts. "And did it work, Jac? Did you see the world in pinks and purples? Did everything stop hurting, just for a little while?"

"Well maybe I wanted to fucking die, then," Jac snaps back, the first lucid moment she's had since she stepped through the door. Audrey's not expecting it and she feels shock replace her anger, fading quickly into sadness and exhaustion and maybe even something that feels like pity.

"You're pathetic," she says, without venom or malice, twirling her hair around her fingers until the circulation stops and they turn red and red and purple.

Jac slides down against the door until she's sitting down, the tiniest thing Audrey's ever seen. "I know."

They don't speak for a good five minutes, but they stare at each other and it feels like peace.

"You had a speech," Audrey says finally, "or whatever. You came here to say something."

"Yeah," Jac replies cautiously.

Audrey takes a deep breath and tries to think of it as diving in, and not like conceding, losing. "So say it."

So Jac does. She launches into her story, telling Audrey all the things she'd just been hinting at for months. She tells her about college, about how much she'd loved photography and capturing bands in motion until the day she realized that all the guys thought she was just some groupie playing at being more. She tells her how she'd lost her virginity that night to the same guy who'd called her a slut earlier, that she'd been drunk and sad and stupid. That she should have learned, but she'd repeated the same goddamn mistake again and again with different guys in different bands for a month afterwards. She tells her about the eating disorder that her parents pretend never happened, how she's better now because she has to be. (Audrey pretends not to notice the way she encircles her wrists with her fingers when she talks about how much "better" she is.) And she tells her how she never realized anything was different about her sexuality at all until a blue eyed girl with a pierced nose in her Design & Society class had smiled at her and told her she was beautiful, that she'd like to paint her.

"Art school girls suck," Jac says vehemently. "They say all the right fucking things and act like you're some special snowflake, but you're just a subject to them. And most of them aren't even actually into girls at all, they just act like they are."

Audrey doesn't mention that art school girls are exactly the type of girls she goes for, the kind of girls that flirt with the idea of fucking a girl because it's oh so fucking edgy and then run back home to their boyfriends in the morning with shame-filled eyes and apologetic kisses.

(And Audrey definitely doesn't tell herself that deep down, she knows she's over all of those girls.)

"I had a religious breakdown, I guess. I'd been brought up with all these values and ideals and they just mean shit to me now, you know. Why would God hate me for what he created me to be? I don't know. I don't know whether to hate him or renounce all of it or let myself believe that it's okay for me to be like this, that he loves me anyway. I don't know if I can do that."

Jac stops for a moment and looks at her, probably for reassurance or something, but Audrey doesn't know what to say. Audrey doesn't know a thing about Christians or their God. She believes in the universe and energy and karma and aliens and fortune tellers, all the sensationalist shit that doesn't make sense but feels good in her stomach and calms her down when things spin out of control.

The moment passes and Jac continues on, playing with the frayed edges of her denim skirt as she talks. "I was just done with everything, with college and my friends and my parents. I saved up all my money and when I had enough, I left. It was halfway through senior year and I walked into the living room and said that I was gay. And then I walked out, got in my car, and drove. And I wound up here."

"You didn't wait for them to respond?" Audrey asks incredulously. It's like a puzzle, Jac's life, and she'd had so many pieces already but the ones she was missing are completely out of left field, lime green zebra prints fitting into dull peach tones.

"I don't need to hear what they've got to say. I already know," Jac says quietly, ripping a tiny hole in her leggings with her nails. "Besides, it's not like they've tried to contact me. My cell phone number hasn't changed, Audrey."

She shakes her head like she's ridding herself of all the bad memories and presses on. "Anyway. That's my story, basically. And the point of all that shit is that I'm screwed up, and I know you are too, but it doesn't feel like that when I'm with you. You make me feel normal. Well, not normal. But not lost, anymore? Fuck, this all came out so much better in my head. I like you. I want to try something more with you. I like being friends with you, and I'll take it if that's all you're willing to give me, but I think you want more too. That's what I should have said instead of freaking out at you, and I'm sorry about that."

"You're high," Audrey says again, desperately, one last feeble attempt to stop this from going any further.

"I'm sorry about that too," Jac replies. "It's the first time I've done any kind of shit like this, I swear. Audrey, it isn't even fun."

Audrey bites her lip as hard as she can and tries to force herself to remember all the reasons why this will never work.

"I'm going to fuck it up," she says finally, looking straight into Jac's eyes and pleading with her to let her off the hook.

But Jac just inches across the floor, crossing the tiny gap from the door to the bed until she's right there, so close, too close. Her hand touches Audrey's, electric and warm and oh, this is what she was missing.

"I don't care," Jac says, staring up at her with shiny, perfect eyes.

Jac tastes like sweat and alcohol and some kind of sweet lip gloss when they kiss, and Audrey can't think of anything better in the world.

Part Three