Page 9 of Watching Ames

Either way, she always moved on quickly, finding another partner to live with or a friend whose couch was empty. If she couldn’t find either, she would hole up in a hotel for a week or two until something popped up. This wasn’t usually a problem except for the fact that Bex had been having trouble finding jobs since the trial; a simple search of her name popped up with domestic terrorist connections, and even though she was found not guilty, it was pretty clear to most that the only things keeping her from jail were misplaced evidence and a great lawyer. Which meant she had no money and - apparently - no place to live.

She didn’t answer my question, jaw tightening as she kept her eyes on the stage. Which meant she was currently homeless. Or, I supposed, living with me.

“That’s why you had all those bags.” She shrugged, too stubborn to ask for help, and I wrapped my arm around her waist, reassuring her, “You can stay with me as long as you need. Always, you know that.”

I got a hug in response, but Bex was saved from having to thank me by the opening act finally emerging on stage, starting the night off with a medley of original music and a couple of covers of classic punk songs. We jumped and danced along with everyone else but the energy was just starting to warm up, the crowd holding their breath as they waited for the headliner to take the stage.

After another opening act, the drummer, guitarist, and bassist forThe Living Deadtook the stage, tuning their instruments while everyone waited in anticipation. The band started to play the opening chords for the title track off their most recent album and Callum, the lead singer, burst onto the stage with the opening lines of the song, everyone screaming and singing along as the song moved into its chorus.

The songs followed one after another in quick succession, my singing drowned out by the voices of the rest of the crowd until I knew my voice would be nonexistent tomorrow. The music vibrated up through my feet and pulsed through my temples, pushing everything out of my mind and allowing me to focus on this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Callum dove from the stage, singing as the crowd carried him, and everyone went wild, people jostling in an attempt to touch the lead singer ofThe Living Dead.

Bex and I got separated at one point, pulled apart by the pulsing throng and the mosh pit that occasionally made its way through the fringes of the crowd. I wasn’t worried; I knew she could hold her own in a packed crowd better than I could, her abrasive personality combined with her thick-soled boots a great combination in packed spaces. I glanced over, making sure I could still see a glimpse of her through the gaps in the crowd as one song petered out and stopped rather than leading straight into the next one.

“Hey everyone,” Callum spoke into the mic, his soft voice such a contrast to the guttural singing and screaming he’d been doing for the past hour. “We just wanted to say thank you for having us and being such great fans. This will actually be the last song of the night. This one's for our old fans. Thanks for sticking with us for so long. We love you guys.”

The song started up, an older one that I was familiar with but hadn’t listened to in a while. It started out slowly, more of a crooning melody about new lovers before the bass kicked in and the beat dropped, twisting into their classic punk sound. The lyrics became less sweet, transitioning into a song of obsession and lust, dying for your lover and wanting them to die for you, too. It was a heady feeling, as the lyrics described the thought of being someone’s obsession, having all their deepest desires revolve around you.

I pictured my admirer, wondering if he felt about me the way the song described, hating the way my blood heated at the thought. I allowed myself a moment to imagine my admirer watching me at the concert, pressing against me in the crowd, pulling me into a dark corner as the music pulsed around me, seeping through my ears and into my brain, the vibrations flowing up through my feet. Any of the bodies that pressed into me, the hands brushing past my hips or the elbows pressing against mine, could belong to him.

I threw myself into the song, raising my arms above my head and jumping along with the beat, allowing the throng of people to move me along with the beat until the music died down, as everyone held their breath to not break the trance we’d all been put into by the last song.

I kept holding my breath, until the band bid us goodnight and walked off the stage, looking around for my admirer but finding Bex instead, standing a few people over from me, a smile on her face and a flush on her cheeks that likely rivaled my own. I imagined her flush was for entirely different reasons than mine and quickly shook myself as we made our way toward each other, pushing thoughts of my admirer out of my head. The concert was over and we were no closer to finding him, and despite the undercurrent of trepidation that had been running through my veins for the past week, I was disappointed rather than relieved that he hadn’t shown his face.

Bex motioned to the door, and I nodded, unwilling to test my voice after screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs. I knew I would barely be able to hear anything but muffled sounds after abusing my eardrums for hours. We followed along with the crowd, slowly shuffling through the doors and starting down the steps.

“Shit.” The curse slipped between my lips as we reached the landing just before the final flight of stairs. Bex sent me a questioning look as I stopped walking, allowing the crowd to flow past me as I frantically patted down my chest, hips, and back pockets for a second time. I didn’t even try to yell over the voices in the crowd as everyone spoke at a louder volume to compensate for our battered eardrums that still felt fuzzy from the concert, instead pantomiming a phone and then pointing back up to the concert hall as I mouthed, “I lost my phone!”

Bex nodded in response and turned around, ready to follow me back up the stairs, but I grabbed her by the elbow to stop her, checking my watch. The technical difficulties at the beginning of the show had extended the night even longer and when paired with a few encore songs - though worth it - it was almost midnight, and the parking deck would be closing soon.

Unwilling to have my car stuck overnight, I grabbed my keys from my bag and passed them to Bex, pointing to my watch and using a few gestures to get my point across. I could tell Bex was reluctant to leave me alone in the thinning crowd but eventually gave in to reason, leaving after a couple moments, mouthing for me to call her once I found my phone before jogging down the rest of the stairs.

I turned around and headed up the stairs, pushing through the last of the crowd until I emerged back into the venue space. It lost some of its glamor with most of the crowd gone; only a few stragglers buying the extremely small or large t-shirts and sweatshirts that were left of the band’s merch. The space was still dimly lit - something that added to the ambiance during the concert but was a pain in my ass while looking for my phone - and the ground was littered in sticky, half-dried beer along with various items: loose change, a few wallets, beer cans. I started toward the front of the stage, guessing where I started out at the beginning of the night. I bent into an almost-squat to look for my black phone against the dark gray floor tiles, hoping I’d get lucky and my phone would suddenly light up and ring with a call.

My wishful thoughts amounted to nothing, and I continued my trek across the floor, occasionally moving empty beer cans with the toe of my boots to check beneath them. I tried looking for the glint of reflection off metal but the lights were too dim and most of the refracting light came from spilt drinks rather than my phone.

“Hello there.” His feet came into view first, stepping close to where I crouched on the floor as I inspected yet another crushed beer can for potentially hidden cell phones, and they immediately drew my interest. His lace-up boots were much too nice to be standing on such a sticky floor. They were casual, but I couldn’t see any scuffs along the edges, and the leather wasn’t creased from use.

My gaze continued to slowly run up the rest of his body, taking in the black jeans he wore along with a gray, short-sleeved henley that clung to his chest in such a way that I could feel heat in my cheeks before we even made eye contact.

My eyes finally reached his face, moving from a sharp jawline with a shadow of stubble on his tawny cheeks to full lips, high cheekbones, and dark brown eyes with a spray of dark lashes that matched the black hair he’d pushed back from his forehead. His lips curved in a smirk, and the corner of his eyes crinkled in pleasure at my slow perusal. I blushed deeper, realizing that I was still in a crouch at this man’s feet, checking him out as he held out a hand to help me up. I grabbed it quickly, allowing him to pull me to my feet in a smooth motion. He gripped it a moment longer than necessary, giving my hand a little squeeze before allowing me to take a step back.

I watched as his eyes gave me the same treatment mine had given him, a hungry look that sparked something deep inside me, core muscles clenching at just the thought of what his look might mean. I caught myself just as fast, pushing aside any lusting thoughts at a literal stranger and instead took a moment to study him further.

Even though he was dressed in all dark tones like so many others in the audience before it had dissolved, he didn't fit into the crowd of concert-goers. And it wasn’t just the pristine shoes that made it clear he didn't belong. He looked like he worked for the venue - no, like he owned the venue - checking in on his investment in dark, casual clothes that didn’t quite fit in with the punk crowd that had packed the space half an hour ago. Even more so, he looked a little dangerous, with a glint behind his eyes that shouldn’t have excited me as much as it did.

I’d never been so immediately attracted to a man; my attraction usually grew over time as I got to know the person. Then again, I reminded myself that I hadn’t had sex in months and shook myself again, ashamed at how I immediately jumped to objectify the first attractive man to show me the slightest bit of attention.

“Need some help?” I heard the words as my ears finally popped, bringing me back to reality after the hazy feeling brought on by the concert. It took me a moment longer to process his words, the mirth in his eyes growing as he waited for me to respond.

“Yes!” My enthusiasm only caused his amusement to spread to his lips, the corners curving in an almost-smile, eyes crinkling deeper in the corners as I continued, “I lost my phone somewhere on the dance floor and my sister had to grab the car before the parking deck shut down for the night and I thought it would be easier to find but it’s so dark and I can’t see that well in the dark, even with my contacts and I can’t call my phone -”

I cut myself off, embarrassed at my rambling, something I’d been actively working on at the countless dinner events I attended with Peter. Peter would have cut me off earlier with a quick pinch of my waist or arm - whichever was closest - but left to my own devices it took me longer to stop myself.

“What I’m trying to say is, it would be really helpful if you could call my phone. Hopefully it’ll ring or light up and I can find it.”

“Of course,” he shrugged his shoulders easily, pulling out his phone and handing it over to me, the keypad already pulled up. I dialed my number quickly, holding it away from my ear to listen for my ringtone. It only took a few seconds until I heard it, the tone echoing across a space made for its acoustics, making it hard for me to pinpoint the sound. The man took a few quick strides toward the stage while I was still trying to orient myself, stooping down to pick up an item between his fingers. He slid his thumb across the screen and brought the phone a few inches away from his ear, likely due to the sheer amount of filth covering my phone.

“Hello?” I watched his lips form the word as his voice came through the phone, almost like some sort of new-age ventriloquist act. I put the phone to my ear instinctively, and his lips curved up, pleased as I played along with his game.

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