Flash

"FLASH"

by Jamie S. Rich

Jeff ultimately decided he would wear a dark blue suit jacket with no shirt underneath. He was feeling a bit loopy and thought that it would fit the mood. It was important one looked the part they were going to play. Jeff was Romeo. And he was Juliet.

The stereo played some band he knew and liked, but most people made fun of him for it. It was a strange band, lead by a sensual, pouty boy with a flip hairdo that Jeff copied to the best of his abilities.

No, no, he thought, the song shifting, changing, I think I'll skip the suit jacket and go for my best ruffled shirt. His moods were swift like that.

Saturday night's all right for many things. Jeff was going dancing. He hoped to lure someone. Boy. Girl. Didn't matter. His singer struck a pose on his wall. Jeff copied it, copied staring that way, eyes down, lips tight, come hither, young thing. Strut like a fuck in your shiny black shoes, eyelined wink, mouth painted like a bruise. Jeff sang along and attacked the mirror, his faithful audience, his adoring fans, his doorway from this boring bedroom to the world's stage.

Ten to nine on a Saturday night. Jeff was fifteen.

Jeff's ride pulled up outside. They honked their horn and shouted. "Come on! Let's go!"

Jason was the oldest. He was sixteen and had a car. He fancied he was River Phoenix. He wanted to die like that. Dave liked heavy metal and fucked his pillow every night before falling asleep. Jeff didn't like them much, but they got him where he wanted to go and that was that. Sweet fuck all.

Techno blisters popped in his ears. The steady boom from the speakers and the bright lights and the gaping eyes and he was lost and out in it. Jeff danced, swinging his arms forward and around, gazing over everyone's heads like they weren't there. Only him. Only Jeff.

A boy with cropped black hair sidled over and started dancing in front of him. Jeff turned his back on the boy.

"Hey, there, what's the matter? Don't you want to dance with me?"

"I only dance alone."

"Bitch."

He thought to himself, the gun's not loaded, the gun's not loaded, sashaying to the sounds.

In his head, pictures of low-lit rooms with TVs and glamorous photos taped to the walls. On the bed, a big soft pillow filled with feathers, and there are roses on the nightstand and a bottle of something red and sinister. He is lead in by a face concealed in shadows, and the low light goes out completely.

Jeff felt himself starting to sweat and decided it was time to stop for a drink. He had his fake ID, but it was an all-ages club and there were no alcoholic drinks served anyway. But there were strange pills for those who wanted them and who would look around to get them. And all ages meant all ages, with old cats cruising young kittens and young kittens sharply clawing in hidden corners. Jeff ordered a juice. It was tart, and he drank it carefully with a straw so he wouldn't wipe away too much of his shiny pink lipstick. He leaned on the rail of the balcony and looked at everyone dancing around beneath him. There was a woman singing on the record. That probably wasn't as important as the beat to most people, but Jeff liked the sound of her voice and the way she said words like "alone" and "love." It was sweet and sad.

A girl with bobbed hair was standing next to Jeff. She had black, plastic sunglasses on. They had rhinestone studs in the upper corners of the frames. She had pale skin and her lips were painted wonderfully red. She stood there for many moments without saying anything. She leaned on the rail, her hands crossed one over the other. She smelled like chamomile tea.

The girl turned to Jeff. "Hello," she said. She spoke softly. Like a white dandelion seed on the wind. "I'm Daphne."

"I'm Jeff," he replied.

They smiled at each other and then looked away. Jeff imagined she was nervous. He was toying with her. She may be the one, though, he thought. He hadn't decided yet.

"Do you think it's hot in here?" she asked

"Is that all you could come up with?" he laughed.

"I'm sorry." She giggled lightly. Like a bird choking on popcorn. "What do you think I should have said?"

"You should have said, 'My, don't I have gorgeous eyes?' and then I could have said, 'I don't really know. You're wearing sunglasses.'"

"That's marvelous. No, really, it is."

"I know many marvelous things," he said.

"That's a good type of knowledge. Everyone should have that."

"I know. Do you know anything marvelous?"

"No. I can't think that way. I can only think like pop songs. I'm envious of thinkers."

"Would you like to dance, Daphne?"

"There you go. Thinking marvelous again."

Daphne grabbed his hand and tugged him down the stairs to the dance floor. Beats of sweat dotted the song. As they danced, Jeff's head lolled back and forth, his eyes skipping past where hers were hiding beneath their dark shells. She watched him and smiled, but he kept his interest away. Jeff didn't want to dance for her. Not yet. He hadn't made up his mind whether he liked her or not.

As the song dwindled, Jeff stopped moving, to see how Daphne would react. She stopped, too, and stood there, smiling. Pained moments of silence, and she giggled.

"Well ..." Jeff said.

She said nothing in return. Only giggled and smiled.

"It was nice knowing you, Daffy," he said, and turned away, slipping between two bodies and leaving her behind him in the crowd. He didn't laugh or even give a knowing wink to himself. He just exited.

Jeff danced alone for the next couple of songs, and then he stepped back through the crowd, to where he left her. There were other people there now, other people dancing. He kept moving and came out on the other side of the floor. Daphne was over there, by the bathrooms, sipping another drink. Jeff went and stood next to her. He looked out at the dance floor, his back against the wall, his shoulder almost touching her shoulder.

"Hello, again," Jeff said.

Her face betrayed nothing. "Hiya," she said.

Jeff stared into the lights. "You know, if I squint enough, I can almost make them look like stars," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"The lights."

"Oh."

"Almost."

"I don't much care."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No. You're not," she said.

"Oh, but I am," he insisted. "I'm alone out there. Whether I'm with someone else or not, I'm alone. Only with you is there anybody. Nobody smells quite like you."

"How do I smell?"

Oooops. He had taken a wrong step. He would have to lie. She did smell like something. She smelled like chamomile tea. He doubted that was very romantic to her. It was only slightly to him.

"Like all my favorite things," Jeff said. "You smell like my house late at night when I've finally gotten comfortable enough to sleep."

Daphne smiled, but turned her head to hide it from him. Jeff saw it anyway.

"Would you like to dance some more?" he asked her.

"No," she said.

"Okay. What would you like to do?"

"I don't know."

"C'mon, then, let's dance while you think about it. Okay?"

She followed him out. The song was softer, but with a good rhythm, and he kept his eyes on her, never looking away, showing he was sincere. Soon, she stared only at him, too. Songs passed, faded out, fell together, and they moved with it until they and the music became one singular note, like a string plucked by godly fingers, the vibration of perfection.

"Will you walk me home?" Daphne asked, when the club closed.

"Sure," Jeff said.

He took her hand and kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Anywhere." She giggled.

Outside, it was cold. Though the streetlights were on, all the buildings were dark, and the sky seemed uncommonly huge. Her hand was warm in his, except for the rings on her fingers. Their metal seemed even colder than the night air. That made Jeff feel strange.

"Do you like coffee?" she asked him.

"Sometimes," Jeff replied.

"Coffee would be good right now," Daphne said. "Coffee with mint. Like poets might drink were they in Paris."

"That's a strange place for a poet to be."

Daphne laughed out loud. "I'm sorry," she said, briefly covering her mouth with her hand. "That was very funny."

Taking advantage of her smile, Jeff leaned in and really kissed her. Her breath tasted like warm cider. Her lips were soft as ice cream. He felt her energy all through his body. It shot through him like laughter from tickled nerves. Jeff felt nice and safe and happy.

Without speaking, they moved on. Jeff felt toasty. He felt drunk. He didn't even notice Daphne's rings so much anymore. And the smell of chamomile tea had grown beautiful. And the sky was purple.

Every once in a while, a car would pass them, bathing them in the glare of its lights and the hum of its engine. Jeff didn't think anything of it when Jason's Pontiac passed him by. He wasn't paying much attention to what the cars looked like. It was when the car did a U-turn a block ahead of them and zoomed back on their side of the road that Jeff's stomach warbled and tightened.

The car slowed and stopped next to the couple. Dave was hanging out the passenger window, and Jason looked over at them from the driver's seat. "Hey, Jeff," Jason said. "What up? Going someplace?"

"I'm going home," Jeff said, still walking, pulling Daphne with him. "Der."

The car followed them in reverse.

"Hop in," Dave said. "We'll take you home."

"'s okay, we'll walk," Jeff said.

"Who's your friend?" Jason asked.

"Yeah," Dave laughed, "you haven't asked her, have ya? Maybe she don't want to walk."

"Go away," Jeff said.

The car moved ahead of them and turned quickly to the left, stopping in front of Jeff and Daphne, blocking their way.

"What's goin' on with you?" Dave asked.

"We're not letting you two walk home in the cold," Jason said.

"Besides, it's dangerous in the city at night," Dave added.

The two boys laughed.

"Why don't you shits just take off?" Jeff snapped.

"That's no way to be, Jeffy." Jason feigned being hurt.

"We're not going to take no for an answer," Dave said.

Jeff didn't know which way to step. There was no music to dictate how he should move his feet.

"Come on," Jason insisted.

"Might as well," Daphne said. "If you know these guys, what can it hurt?"

"Listen to the lady," Jason said.

Jeff felt trapped. "I guess," he said.

"All right!" Dave exclaimed. He flung open the front door, and then hurdled over the seat into the back, where he opened the back door, as well. "I got your seat reserved, young lady," he laughed.

Daphne got in the backseat and shut the door. Jeff bit his tongue and got in the front. "Now, ain't this cozy?" Jason asked. He put the car into drive, spun his tires, and shot down the street.

Inside the car, the world seemed small. Outside the window, there was only black. Above Jeff's head, there was no sky.

"So, little lady, I think it might be best to take you home first," Jason said.

"My name's Daphne."

"Hello, Daphne. I'm Jason. The tough guy back there is Dave. Jeff's not much on introductions."

"What's the matter, Jeff?" Dave asked. "You ashamed of your girlfriend?"

"Shut up, Dave," Jeff said.

"So, Daphne, where you live?" Jason asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"Across the river, off of 12th," she replied.

"Yeah? Ain't that kind of ritzy?" Jason asked.

"Oh, I don't think so." Daphne blushed.

"Do you like music, Daphne? I got a radio in here," Jason said.

"Doesn't everybody?" Daphne answered. "Like music, I mean."

"Well, all right," Jason shouted. "Rock and roll!"

Jason turned on the radio. It was some heavy metal band singing about sex and calling it love. It was loud.

"This sucks," Jeff said.

Jason glared at him. "You suck," he said.

"Yeah ..." Dave laughed, "... my dick."

Jeff sulked. He put his feet up on the dashboard and looked straight ahead, through the dirty window at the yellow lines being sucked under the car.

They crossed the bridge, and Jason took a left at the light. "I'm sorry," Daphne said. "We need to go the other way."

"Are you sure?" Jason asked.

"Yeah," she said. "We have to go south. This is north."

"No," Jason said, "this is south."

"But --*"

"I'm positive," Jason said.

"You're a liar," Jeff exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Take it easy, children," Jason said. "I'm just taking you where the action is."

Jason put his foot down hard on the gas. Jeff heard the pedal hit the floor. The engine cleared its throat, and the car rattled as it shot forward. Jeff pressed his hands into the seat. The vinyl felt like it had been buttered.

"What're you doing?!" Jeff shouted.

"Sit back, don't worry." Jeff didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to know what was going through his mind. He didn't want to see it on her face.

The city passed like panic. Its lights fell back behind them, winking for a second, and then skipping on. They had come to the industrial side of town. It was dark. Things had closed down for the night.

"I don't get it," Jeff muttered.

"Relax. You will."

He heard Daphne scream behind him. Mike chortled.

"Don't get ahead of the game," Jason scolded. "All the player's aren't on the field."

Jason made a sharp right into an alley. He turned out the lights and pulled the car into a loading dock. He turned off the engine, rolling it in neutral to the edge of the platform. He left the radio on.

"What're you doing?" Jeff asked, almost whispering. The music was loud and buried him. Walk this way, it said, over and over.

Jason turned around in his seat, but Jeff couldn't make himself. He held his hands in his lap, wringing the skin so tight it turned red. He looked at his fingers, but his eyes saw nothing. Only white space and imagined tears. Jason hit Jeff in the shoulder, then said, "Don't be that way. Be a sport. Daphne is a sport, aren't you, Daphne? Are you okay, honey?"

"Uh ..."

"You're not scared of us, are ya?"

Mike guffawed.

"Look't Mike," Jason said. "He's no different than any regular old baboon in the zoo. He's just got no cage. He's not scary, though, is he?"

"Hey, man, shut up," Mike said.

"Oh, take it easy, willya?" Jason snarled. "What's it matter? She's not going to like us anyhow. She doesn't need to like us."

"Oh, God." Daphne began to cry.

"I'm sorry," Jeff said, his voice cracking. "I'm really sorry."

"We don't need you apologizing, either," Jason said. "Be good, or you won't get your turn."

"Who goes first?" Mike asked. "I don't know. Scissors, paper, rock?" Jason said.

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up."

"I am. I am."

Jason punched him hard in the mouth. His throat filled with a thick, warm, salty taste. He coughed. Daphne's silence echoed in his brain.

And the night ripped like flesh on barbed wire.

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