Fractured 11

We get into my car, my baby. I get in on the driver’s side. Jill takes her time. I see her clearing her mascara in the mirror and then takes in my car. After she’s in, she whistles at the interior. I start the engine and WKQX blasts into the car. Smashing Pumpkin’s Geek USA booms into our eardrums. I immediately turn the dial down embarrassed. Jill stares at me with a rocker horn raised and then laughs.

“Nice taste in music and cars,” she eyes around the back seats, “You should see my beater.”

I wonder what she drives if she calls this nice. I pull onto the road, planning to cruise around the neighborhood and back.

“Remind me to clean my car if I ever drive”

“It doesn’t bug me if it’s messy.”

“Good, ‘cause I can probably just manage making room for you,” she sticks her tongue out at me. A tongue piercing I didn’t notice before.

“What was it like in high school for you?”

“High school? You mean other than helping the concert band?”

“Yeah, well we never really spoke.”

“Well, in high school I sat with the ‘outsiders’ I guess. I didn’t fit in with the concert band squad like you did. I’m also two years older, so there’s that.”

I nod in agreement. I didn’t spend much time away from the band. They seemed almost like family. The other members of my section sort of all hung out together. When Oliver and I started dating, I spoke with even more of our band members. My friends seemed normal but I guess we definitely formed a clique.

“My music fix was my punk band,” she laughs, “I was lead guitar for the Bite Size Anarchists.”

The word anarchist hits me and I tense up. Who exactly do I have in my car?

“Lead guitar for who?”

Jill sees the concern on my face, “Don’t worry, it’s a garage band. Not a crazy activist group. We played gigs at local bars and other venues. Almost had a record too at one point. It was a lot of fun.”

“Why didn’t you continue?”

“Oh, drugs and drama. The usual it seems in the biz. Some of my other band mates thought it would be a good idea to have a party in our Thrash Wagon. Err, tour bus thing,” She pauses when I give her a look. ”Okay, it was a camper van our bassist got from his uncle. Anyway, they had invited a bunch of girls and had some booze, weed and other drugs. And well, they got busted.”

“Where were you?”

“I left earlier. I was yelling at two of them to get their shit together. Nothing. So I begged my best friend of the group to come with me, but she wanted to party. She called me lame for not wanting to stay. I left. They got busted later in the night,” Jill sighs, sliding deeper into the seat with a sigh. “We almost made that record.”

“You tried to help them. It’s not your fault.”

“I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I like having a bit of fun too. They were just being idiots about it,” Jill points to a drive off, “Take that down, trust me.”

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