A Don's Distress p.4
A smoochie in the neck. Tom turned to see the dirty blonde hair waving over his papers at the bench. "Why don’t you study in the library, hun?" Tom, with wrought repartee, retorted "Hun? Has it come to that level now?" She sat beside him, with an aloof smile to Tom’s ways and kept on. "There’s gonna be a party this Friday, and the guys are wanting to know if you can, like, play with them and stuff" "Sure, why not?", answered Tom, with naturality. "Same songs, right?" "Dunno", answered Kim, picking her pack of Newports from her purse and lighting one of the cigarettes contained with in. For that moment, and that moment alone, Tom saw her contour as she lit it up in her recherché ways that seemed adventitious to what was the reality of things. Putting his papers back in his backpack, he then reconnoitered Kim’s figure in its omneity; a teal blue tank top and jeans and high heeled shoes, looking just like your ordinary girl - your ordinary comely girl, that is. Very slim, with fitly breasts and oh those eyes. He wanted to swim on them as much as in the pool, and there were no water polo players to keep him from doing so.
"So, how was it like in the city?", she pulled him from his benumbed state of perfect concentration. He picked up one of his own cigarettes and lit it, taking a rapt drag and letting the menthol flee from his nose and answered her: "Business as usual, belldandy"
Business as usual. Perchance a veritable smorgasboard of those little friends they had?
"Whaddya want, belldandy?", asked Tom in his usual stern tone - a change of moods, a change of winds, but everything done with a bit of tenderness for the girl’s earned deference.
"Nothin’ really" she answered him, "just wanted to check out on you and see if I can make you some company", she smiled. "I was studying", replied Tom, now with the oblique way of his own in an attempt to be left forlorn. "Dontcha...um..." Is your mind changing, Tom?
"Let’s have some coffee, how about it?", he asked, with mild cheerfulness, standing up and picking up his backpack. "With that much coffee it’s no wonder you need valium", chortled Kim, offering her hand for Tom to pick. Were they a couple? Tom picked her by the hand and off to the cafeteria they went. Mayhaps a couple.
Night and the party was still a tot - nobody getting wasted and doing ooooh crazy things. A guy presenting himself as Phil handed the tabs to Tom as he sat on the edge of the stage strumming his Marilyn. Voices aloud crossing from here to there and Tom trying to get it together. No worries, as pronto and he was acquainted with the songs. Dollars to doughnuts that they expected him to wail away and sweep the crowd with his whammy bar; business as usual. He then left his axe over the case and walked towards the bar to get some whiskey; they only had beer. Joy. Tom then made his thoroughfare back to room 54, and as he entered his room, he bustled to his bottle of Knob Creek. Then he stopped before proceeding to drink from it - some friends would be wieldy for the occasion. From the pill case, five vicodins, gulped with a wash of his bourbon. Heavy, but not inapt at the moment.
"Kim’s flask would be useful now", he thought, but then he didn’t mind it and scurried back to the party. Back there, the youngsters were getting buoyant already; thanks to the beer, no doubt about it. His guitar was where it was; he picked it up and sat down on the stage’s edge again to keep plucking as time went by and the hits kept comin’ at ya.
Time passing, the band haphazardly huddles itself amongst laughs, drunkeness, and too much talking for Tom. And came at him the hit – the vicodins took effect. He was torpid, slipshod, and the time was as good as any to just barely accompany the band. He’d go for his cues, then wear out his welcome, then just nod off. The crowd didn’t seem to care, and applauded when each song was over – whenever he’d let the song end. The band, on the other hand, was sentient to Tom’s shenanigans, and oft warned him with a nudge or an off-mic caveat. He couldn’t care less. The gig was over after a couple of hours and Tom just put his Marilyn on the case and walked away to his room to get higher. Higher? Higher.
In the crowd, Kim was one to espy and follow him. "Tom", she called for him as he was in the door, "you okay?" "No, I’m NOT okay and shit - I can’t stand this kinda shit. Why do they even bother calling me to these gatherings? I’m not - I’m not one to enjoy this bullshit", he stammered as he tried to open the door. As he got inside, Kim got herself into the room to boot as Tom didn’t even seem to care. He sat down by the bed, scratching his head and adumbrating his next move. Oh the pill case. Right in his alligator jacket. Funsies to be. A false augury to what would take place was that Kim would get it on. Tom stood up, picked up his KC bottle and as Kim, sitting by the bed was there, he offered her a quaff notwithstanding that he held her hand and put five vicodins there first. Kim took Tom’s silent pitch, and took them all with the bourbon. Tom took three more. "My belldandy...yerr my belldandy..." said Tom in his haze as he put his head on Kim’s shoulder and nodded off yet anon. Let’s spend the night together. Sitting down in the bed. It wouldn’t be long before Kim would get on the groove as well. Mayhaps a couple howbeit.