The only person left in the room with me was Tommy, who was opening another beer and smoking a cigarette, so I gestured towards the patio and asked, "You wanna sit outside with me?" Maybe at the very least he'd get some fresh air and sunlight. These boys were like drug-addict vampires.
Tommy gave me an odd look, but he nodded and made his way out- only not before impishly exhaling a cloud of smoke in my face. I followed him with a heavy sigh- I was in for a lot of trouble with this lot. How would I ever get them to take me seriously?
Sitting in a cheap lawn chair and propping his legs up on the railing, Tommy took a swig of beer before looking at me expectantly, however his hazel eyes were cloudy. I wasn't able to hide the expression that twisted my face for a moment at his drunken state, and he startlingly laughed out loud.
"You don't drink?"
"Nope. Or smoke. Or do coke."
"So why are you a fan then? That's like . . . all we do." He looked at me with squinted eyes in such a way that it seemed his mind was made up about me without having to hear.
"That's a good question . . . It's a long story, but I guess I got to know you guys and . . . I felt for you- gosh that sounds stupid." I buried my face in the crook of my shoulder, a blush rising to my cheeks. What a way to sound like a silly teenager.
"I would have thought getting to know us would have scared off someone like you." Tommy joked, and I glanced back up to him a little sorrowfully, knowing that he wasn't joking as he took a seemingly labored gulp of beer immediately after.
"What do you mean, 'someone like me'?"
"Adam Ant had a song about people like you. Goody Two-shoes. Heard it?"
"Yeah. 'Don't drink, don't smoke, what do you do?' Tommy, I do things like talk, tell the truth, live a real life."
"Are you like a nun or something?"
My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as I answered quietly, "No. I believe in God, but I'm not a nun. I know the type of people you grew up with- your dad, and your mom- I'm not like them. They look down on you because you drink and do other . . . bad things. But I know that you're more just those things, and I know that there's other reasons why you do them. Reasons that go beyond simply rebellion or desire."
Tommy shifted in his seat uncomfortably, long body stretched out across the patio so that he looked even more emaciated than usual. He bit his lip and seemed like he wanted to say something, but at the last moment shrugged his shoulders and said quietly, "Just because you might be from the future doesn't mean you know me."
"You're right . . . I don't know you. But I do know me, and I know what I would do if I'd been through what you've been through. " I trailed off for a moment, trying to think of how to bring up the subject of his more secretive experiences.
Turning to face me with consternation, Tommy removed the cigarette from the corner of his mouth and knocked it with deliberate slowness against the arm of the chair before saying as if intending to trap me, "And what exactly do you think I've been through?"
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I reluctantly met his piercing eyes. Now he was paying attention. Don't say anything offensive . . . hint. "Well, when you were younger- just a kid- do you remember anyone, especially your dad's friends, well . . . hurting you in any way?" Well, that was less subtle than a shotgun blast.
Tommy's brows knitted together, and the beer bottle stopped halfway up to his mouth; that was obviously not what he was expecting me to say. "Why would you think that?" There was an ungurardedness to his face and a slight waver in his voice that confirmed my suspicions: he genuinely didn't remember. But for some reason, maybe my own desperation to help him- to save him from the system- I pressed further with a little white lie: "You told us. Future you, that is. Maybe it was like . . . something you blocked out in your mind." I could feel the sweat collecting at my forehead from lying- or maybe it was just from talking to Tommy at all, and having him look at me like that . . . all puzzled and child-like.
"I said that? I . . . " He looked away somewhat dazedly, lines of thought cutting a v in his forehead. Come on, Tommy, think . . . the memories are there, underneath the surface.
"Hey, could you two find some other place to be? I've got a chick coming over in a few minutes. And maybe her friend." Vince popped his head into the patio, gazing at us with an arrogant expectation, his self-proclaimed need to sleep completely gone. At Vince's voice, something passed through Tommy's eyes that I would have missed had I blinked; the uncertain searching was abruptly cut down by a wall of certainty that confirmed something for me: Vince was part of Tommy's abuse base. I would have to get each one of them totally isolated if I wanted to help them remember.
Disappointed but now with a more concrete plan, I returned to what Vince had asked and pressed my lips together disapprovingly. "You've got a show to be at in a few hours."
"I know." Vince looked at me from behind platinum blond locks of teased hair, an annoyingly serene expression on his face as if he could see no dissonance with the two activities.
"Alright, fine. Do what you want- where do you wanna go, Tommy?"
"The liquor store?" Was the first dumb response out of Tommy's mouth, and I just grabbed his arm and pulled him up. "Alright, alright, I'll think of something- oh, I know." A mischievous glint entered his eyes, and he grinned. Oh boy.
"I'm not doing anything with you that you wouldn't do with Athena."
YOU ARE READING
Saving Motley Crue
Fanfiction"Dude, she's gotta be yours." "I was with a blond last night I swear." "Whatever, Tommy, she's gotta go." Despite being puzzled and slightly disgusted at what they were saying, I knew who the voices belonged to instantly, and I couldn't understa...
