The Painter & The Pianist

iii.

CHAPTER THREE

    Monserrat glanced at his skin, which was getting wrinkly, the bubbles around his arms slowly disappearing into the tub. He dipped his head underneath the bubbly water once more before swinging his legs over the edge and wrapping himself in the incredibly soft towel he bought on sale a week ago. As he dried himself off, he wondered if Amadeus was still in the living room. Monserrat swore he had heard the front door shut, but it wasn't like Amadeus 'the homeless' had anywhere else to go.

Walking to the living room, however, he saw the vacivity of it. Not a soul but Monserrat was to be found. He glanced at the spot where Amadeus' bag was. Pressing his fingers to his temples, he saw an empty beer bottle on the counter and the sticky note he had placed on it a few days before was strewn on the floor. The insufferable sod had drunk the entire thing. Props to him. Monserrat hated beer anyways.

Monserrat trudged into his room and started putting on his clothes when he heard the phone in the kitchen ring. "Hold on I'll be there in a second," he yelled anxiously at the object, as he tried to slip his shirt over his head. He ran through the hallway, slipping once, but he was too late. The ringing stopped and the automatic voice mail dialogue went off.

"Hello, this is Mon!" Monserrat's voice called, followed by Amadeus', "And Amadeus!"

"If you're getting this we're both probably doing something gay, so leave a message!"

A long beep played and then a squeaky female's voice replaced it.  "Hey! Why haven't you changed that? You're doing a lousy job of getting over him!  Anyways I'm waiting outside on the stairs and you need something to make you happy like right now-" It was Addison. Addison was outside. Addison was... what was she doing?

Monserrat hesitantly grabbed his coat and a beanie on his way to the door. As he went down the stairs he saw Addison waiting next to a taxi, "Why do we need a taxi?" he inquired.

 "You'll see!" she replied tugging his sleeve to get him into the car.

"No wait I haven't brushed my hair!" he began to no avail, as he was shoved into a sticky gray seat. Addison began humming excitedly, and Monserrat tried his best to get her to shut up with his glare.

"Fine, whatever. Where are we even going?" he asked. "You'll enjoy it," she answered, with a mischievous smirk that made him uneasy.

As they pulled up to a flashy club, Monserrat tried once again to object, but Addison assured him he wouldn't have to drink. He begrudgingly went along with her.

The first thing he saw as they entered was a stripper pole.

"No way," he declared. "No, no no! Addison, I will not participate in such foolery! I-" Monserrat lost his train of thought as he looked at the flashing lights, the toned bodies of men on poles, and a large number of people dancing and drinking.

"Monserrat, you need to loosen up. It's just a bar. With strippers. Look, let's get a drink, maybe get a dance, see a show," Addison said, winking. 

Monserrat turned red. "Okay, I can get a drink. Maybe a strong one. But I won't do shots."

"Honey, you know I will." Addison laughed, pulling Monserrat towards the bar, and Monserrat took that moment to consider just how far he was willing to let Addison manipulate him into doing whatever she pleased. Pretty far, he decided, a bit disappointed at his own resolve.

Monserrat rolled his eyes at his friend, but that was all he did.

They both found two empty stools and Monserrat sat next to Addison. The bartender made his way to Monserrat. "What can I get for you, cutie?" His voice was smooth and velvety and reminded him of Amadeus' voice when he would just wake up. 'Goddamit, Amadeus.'