Wildwood - Julian Casablancas

Chapter 19 - Sexploit

A/N: Y'all they got my ass working at a fast food joint so I'm gonna be even busier from now on 😭 gotta wear a lil hat w the uniform and everything

SOTD: Stay Down by Boygenius

Sylvie's lighter gave one spark, then two, and on the third strike created a flame that danced only long enough for her to light a cigarette. Shaking it, she did not hear the sound of splashing liquid inside. The lighter was empty.

"You're sure you wouldn't like a ride home?" Mr. Augbiny asked, gesturing towards his sleek BMW that the valet had just retrieved. His assistant was already in the driver's seat.

"No." Sylvie said sharply, muttering "Thank you for dinner."

"Suit yourself." He slid into his passenger seat, made of expensive black leather, and drove gaudily away.

Meg was about fifteen feet away on the same curb, next to the restaurant's awning, bidding a cheerful goodbye to Brian and Rowan, who were taking Brian's car home. Rowan's face was bright and wide-eyed; Brian's was somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

Meg made a show of standing five feet away and pretending to cough as Sylvie puffed.

"So dramatic," said Sylvie, smiling, "You're not even downwind of me."

"Worth a shot. Do you plan on taking a taxi?"

"Yeah. Beats walking." And it definitely beat letting a member of the Augbiny family drive her anywhere.

"I could give you a ride?" Meg suggested.

Sylvie mulled it over for a second. "Sure."

"Excellent. Follow me, then. Evie's parked just down the street."

Meg's car was a blue GM EV1, chosen for its use of electricity rather than gasoline. It was decorated with a small dreamcatcher hanging from the rear view mirror and seat covers made of colorful thread woven into exotic patterns. Its lovingly bestowed name, Evie, was a play on the car's model.

"When are you going to get yourself a car?" Meg asked, blunt as always.

"When I start needing one."

"You already need one. You take so many taxis, you might as well pay for a car and gas. Look at how happy me and Evie are together. It's like we're soulmates." Meg stroked the car's dashboard. People tended to overlook how strange she could be because she was cute.

Sylvie realized she had used the exact same argument on Julian the last time she'd seen him. "Touché," She conceded.

Meg tapped her short nails against the steering wheel cover. "You know, I don't envy poor Brian in the least, what with Rowan and Vera moving in together. You think they'll get engaged?"

Rowan getting married? Un-fucking-likely. "What makes you so sure Brian likes Rowan, anyway? All Rowan does is pester him."

"That's exactly it. Brian wouldn't tolerate that crap from anyone else — excuse my language."

"You're excused," Sylvie replied sarcastically.

"Ha-ha."

"Whether it's Brian or Vera or whoever, I can't see Rowan staying with one person for more than a few months. He gets bored easily. Not to mention, he's straight."

Meg wrinkled her nose. "I beg to differ. Do you ever listen to his sexploit stories?"

"Sometimes. I try not to if I can help it."

"Well, if you did, you'd know that he's slept with a surprising number of dudes, even when you don't count orgies and threesomes. He must be bisexual or something."

Sylvie nodded sagely, pulling down the sun visor and opening the mirror. Her eyeliner had smudged; she licked her pinkie and tried to rub it off. "A hole is a hole."

Meg's eyes rolled. "I just hope it doesn't mess with the band. We're already stressed enough with this new album."

"Would it be such a bad thing? You used to talk about putting out a solo record. We could be... I dunno, we could be free."

"I'm a little surprised you remember that," Meg ran her hands through her hair, pulling a few stray pieces out of her bandana (made of organic, hand-woven cotton, of course). "Stupid idea, anyway. Nobody wants to hear my solo stuff. Besides, they got us for five albums and we can't do squat about it, 'less you wanna pay back the advance they gave us."

They were getting closer to her place. Sylvie noticed Meg taking a few extra turns — by now, they might have passed it. The road they were on didn't look very familiar to her. They were close to Anderson's Grocery. She could see, if she squinted, the crosswalk where Julian had saved her.

"Where the hell are we going? You trying to kidnap me, Bundy?"

"Ah sh- shiitake mushrooms. I think I missed a turn," said Meg. The road ahead was emptier than usual. Streetlights revealed only a sparse handful of cars idling along. "How come we never spend much time together anymore?"

"I spend almost every other day with you. We work together, remember?" Sylvie playfully tapped on her friend's head, wondering what was distracting her. Meg didn't miss turns; she didn't miss anything.

Meg sped up a little, passing a minivan that was driving under the speed limit. The turn signal ticked on and off. "That's not hanging out. That's being coworkers."

"Well, maybe if you weren't constantly on my fucking ass..."

Meg's expression was one of frustration. Her mouth was twisted into a thin line. "Well, sorry that I care about you. Actually, you know what? Never mind! I don't even know what the point is anymore — you would cut off your nose to spite your face." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I hate this attitude you have. There's nothing 'cool' or 'artsy' about being miserable all the time."

Sylvie was stunned, mum as a church mouse, slinking back into the car seat. She looked over at Meg, who had a white-knuckle grip on the wheel and was blinking fervently.

"Are you crying?"

"No!" Meg averred through a sniffle.

"Oh my god, you are," said Sylvie. She used her sleeve to try and wipe away a tear running down Meg's freckled cheek. The tables had turned; playing Mother was not usually Sylvie's job.

There was no need to ask why Meg was so upset — she already knew. Like all things, it came from her childhood, one spent really, truly alone.

"I'm so sorry," murmured Meg, wiping her face clean. "I'm just tired." Her speech was flat and soft, weak like a child's. They were circling back towards Sylvie's apartment. A trickle of guilt crept in — clearly Meg had been cracking for a while, and she was only just now seeing it. Looking closer, Sylvie could see the faintest worry wrinkles beginning to form on her friend's forehead.

"You're fine. Don't worry so much about me. I just gotta shake off this funk, that's all." Sylvie wiggled her body as if to literally shake off the negativity, which made her earrings jingle. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders. "Thanks for the ride home. I appreciate it."

Meg patted Sylvie's back. "Nobody deserves to be alone. Especially not you. You're something special, you know that?"

Sylvie wasn't so sure she believed it. Something tender gnawed within, alongside a wave of loneliness. Clearing her throat, she said, "Why don't you come up? I got some brownie mix and a few DVDs. We can have a little sleepover — just like old times."

Meg looked a little taken aback. She smiled, and for a moment looked like her younger self. Her worry creases were overshadowed by smile lines and dimples in each cheek.