By the time the film ended the energy in the room died down a bit and Stacy came up to me after the “performance”. I had makeup on my face, rice in my hair and silly string all over the shirt I’d just bought.
“Did you have fun?”
I forced a smile.
“Yeah.. what are you doing right now?”
“Oh some of us go out to eat after the show. Wanna come?”
There’s no way in hell she didn’t notice my expression go from simply weary and irritated to heartbroken.
“Sure.” I said. I was going to get SOMETHING out of this evening, even if it was just a kiss after driving her home.
If there’s a nexus of hate where all woeful subcultures gather, Denny’s would be it. It was, in fact, the same Denny’s I’d sat at months previous with a gang of obnoxious roleplayers. I picked at my Super Bird, slowly losing consciousness, counting the minutes. The guy who played Frank N. Furter and a handful of other principle “cast” members were with us; a majority of the cast had gone off either in couples or alone. Most of them were headed to one cast member's house for a party. At one point, after my fifth cup of coffee and a thousand flirty comments flung back and forth between Stacy and her friends, she turned to me and said:
“Hey so, our Brad is quitting next month.”
“Oh yeah? That’s a shame.” I said, my voice low.
“Would you be interested in doing the show with me?” She was half-kidding, I think.
Some of them laughed. Frank N. Furter said:
“Stacy, he just went to it his first time! Don’t freak out the mundane!”
I forced a laugh.
“Hah, no thanks, you should find someone who’s like, in to it.”
“You’re not in to it? I mean, it'd really be like a trial by fire, you know! It could be awesome!”
“Well I mean...”
“Oh, so you’ll think about it!”
At around 4am they finally had consumed enough ranch dressing and cherry coke to call it a night. Apparently the rest of them were headed to the house party that was still going. I told Stacy I was heading home.
“Alright, let’s go home then.” She put her arm around mine. Radical.
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