Baptism By Fire
by kazfuego


“Bus rolls in ten minutes.”

        I turned to my side and buried my face in the pillow, the voice rousing me from my deep slumber. I dreamt I was a frostbitten reverie who ripped men’s hearts into two; held David’s heart— S hit. My eyes flew open as I bolted upright, throwing back the covers from my legs. I hopped off the upper bunk and lost my footing. “What time’s it?” I gritted, getting up.

        “Five past four. In the AM,” the roadie answered distractedly, tightening the strings of a Fender. He looked up a moment and winked. “And better lay off on the booze, hon.”

        I wrinkled my nose at the remark, barely able to make out his silhouette in the dark. “What’s up with the lights-out thing?”

        He cocked his head in the direction to where the rest of the band lay sprawled on their respective bunks.

        “Ah.” I grunted wearily and trudged my way towards the miniscule bathroom, locking myself in. I’ve barely had three hours of sleep so I was in no way fit to be up at the crack of dawn. The mirror revealed a mascara-streaked face, a band shirt which hung loosely over my svelte frame and limp hair. How could I be this f ucked up just after one night? I mean there I was in the pub having a shot of Tanqueray, when this guy David sidled up to me and asked if I digged emo boys—I said I did. Of course I was far too drunk to even realize who he was then.

        Now I’m in Simple Plan’s tour bus. His tour bus.

        I splashed my face with cool water and tied my hair back in a knot. Not that this hasn’t happened to me before on a regular basis. After all, I hung out with different bands. And then some.

        Mustering up what’s left of me, I stepped out the wash and found myself blinded by a beam of light slicing the darkness which pervaded the landing leading to the roof deck. What the—

        “…Never was her baptism by fire.”

        I made my way up the ladder quietly, not hesitating a moment. I popped a head out the porthole and was intimidated by the Broadway nightscape reflected on the placid waters of the Hudson River. A silhouette of a guy with dark hair and patrician features was crouched at the far end of the deck, illuminated by his flashlight. He seemed to be…writing.

        “David?” my voice sounded hollow as I let myself out in the open.

        He let a beam of light wash over me before falling flat on his stomach and returned back to work. “Hey.”

        I positioned myself next to him and eyed him curiously. “Whatcha doin’?”

        “Writing a song,” he answered, chewing on the end of his Number Two thoughtfully. “Gives you much inspiration, you know? The river, I mean.”

        My gaze averted from him to the waters then back again, propping my chin on a palm. “Hey listen,” I began, turning on my side to face him. “I know you’re leaving this morning for your Vegan tour and, I don’t know, this may be the last time I’ll ever see you again so…” I trailed off, taking in the stillness in the air. So what if I’ve been following the band ever since forever? So what if I was finally able to hang out with the band?

        It ends today.

        “Maybe,” his lips curled into a smile, letting his pencil drop. He held on to his composition, jumped to his feet and offered me a hand. “Hey, come on.”

        I couldn’t help but grin as I took it and scrambled to my feet—it was all too good. The beam of light left pointed to our feet cast ghastly shadows all over the deck and a somewhat eerie glow to his face. There was something enticingly mysterious about him.

        “Tear it for me,” he shoved the paper in my hands and looked away.

        “But why the hell would I…” I trailed off when I felt his gaze bearing down on me. If you want one heck of an anthem forgotten, well then fine. My hands were trembling as I shredded the song as neatly as possible, keeping the pieces clasped in my fist. This was so wrong.

        “Now toss it out into the darkness.”

        I loosened my grip and watched dazedly as a gust of wind carried the ripped black pieces into the waters below like disconcerted keys of music. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, holding my head in my hands when I realized what I’ve done. “I’m sorry.”

        He wound a supportive arm around my shoulder. “Today my life will change forever and…you may be the last person I’ll ever see before that.”

        I frowned. “What?”

        “And I’m not gonna be on this bus when it happens, either,” he rambled on. “I’m getting on another one where I can be away from the prying eyes of the public”—he looked at me straight in the eye—“away from it all.”

        I laughed nervously. “You seem to have lost me, but uh, why?”

        He withdrew his arm. “That, you may never know,” he breathed in my ear, a wicked smile on his face. He bent over to pick up the flashlight and sent dappled images all over as he made his way down the porthole.

        Now I was left all alone. In the dark.

        Out of the corner of my eye, something glinted against the pale moonlight and I smiled. Not bad, I thought as I took it and shoved it in my back pocket. Not bad at all.

***

        It was scorching hot and the bus was rolling down Amsterdam Avenue at an incredibly fast rate. I hitched the next ride to Vegas hours after I got off David’s and fanned myself with a copy of Tiger Beat. They’ll have a gig there tonight, he’d said, and I wanted to come with him—I really did. But no, he insisted that I get off since that wasn’t the bus they were using. The reason, I had no idea. Maybe to escape the paparazzi? To escape…me? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

        Still fanning myself, I closed my eyes and tried piecing things together when the faint voice of someone humming drained the life out of me:

        “…Intoxicating beauty hung in the air, telling me that never was her baptism by fire.”

        My eyes flew open and I craned my neck casually, surveying those around me. For a split sec, I could’ve sworn I caught sight of his signature black hair alongside some mauve-eyed chick three seats back.

        Dismissing the thought, I began flipping through the magazine mindlessly when it landed on the cover story with Simple Plan on it. David

        I was about to lean back when I felt something hard against my rear. What the— I put a hand down my back pocket and found my fingers groping on something from what seemed like days ago.

        His eyeliner.

        My lips curled into a smile as I lined his face with bold, harsh strokes using kohl.