Chapter Text
“Fuck off, Ash.” I can’t see him- my eyes are closed- but I know he’s doing something irritating.
“What?” He laughs in my ear before his hands snake around my hips and his lips plant distracted kisses up my stomach. I brush him off and sit up, angry that the peace and quiet are gone.
“I don’t want to do anything tonight. I just want to sit up here, ok?”
He grumbles something but I’m not listening. I’m looking at the sky, the stars that are fighting their way through the cloud cover. I think I see Venus.
“Do you remember when we spent that weekend in the city and snuck up onto the roof of the motel?” The memory is trickling back to me, I’m not sure why. There are better things to remember than that trip.
“What we did on that rooftop is very memorable to me,” Ash says, lighting a cigarette. I don’t react.
“You couldn’t see any stars. Not a single one.” He’s trying to pass the cig to me and I’m pushing it away. I can’t tell if he forgot that I quit two months ago or if he just doesn’t believe it. Either one is possible and both hurt.
“It’s light pollution, babe. If you’re looking for pros of living in a small town, that’s about the only one- you can see the stars,” He lays on his back, smoke trickling from his lips. “But then, that’s really only something you would care about isn’t it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My little poet.” He’s laughing now, the smoke pouring from his mouth and nose and curling around his face, the tendrils grabbing at his hair and clothes.
I roll my eyes and turn to the road, watching as a car winds its way down the road, still a distance away. The headlights flash through the trees and cut the dark like those scenes in horror movies.
“Okay, who are they?” I point, initiating our little game. We’ve played it as long as I can remember.
“Umm…” He considers the car as it creeps closer. “A rich banker and his wife. Little does she know, his only reason for this little getaway to Clear Falls is to see his girlfriend. The affair has been going on for a year now, and this is the closest the two women have ever been to coming in contact. He will take his wife out to a nice dinner tonight, before they take an evening stroll to the Falls, and then- whoops! She takes a tumble over the safety railing.”
“Jesus, Ash!”
“He couldn’t bear to break her heart, so he broke her neck instead.”
“How romantic.” I groan. The car is just outside of town now. I turn to Ash and watch as he takes a last drag on the cigarette before flicking it off the roof. “So the other woman, did she know he was married?”
His gaze flicks over to me. “She knew, deep down, but denied it. He always took his ring off, but you could see the mark it left.”
I hum, nodding.
We sit in silence for a little while, he smokes and I stare at the stars. The night air is warm but not hot, and when a breeze winds its way to our rooftop spot, it feels almost like a blanket is being wrapped around my shoulders. I sigh with the comfort of it.
“Oh shit,” Ash says out of the blue. I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes again until just now. “Marcy, the banker and his wife are coming to the hotel!”
“What?”
“Look.” He points. And it’s true, the car we were speculating about just minutes ago is headed straight towards us.
“I guess we get to put your prediction to the test. The Banker’s Affair: Fact or Fiction?” I smile, watching as the car pulls up to the curb below us. We creep forward and peer over the gutter, watching as the engine shutters into stillness and the headlights blink off. There’s a moment of no movement, no sound, and then the front doors creak open: first drivers side, then passengers. It’s a guy and a girl, our age probably, muttering in quiet voices as they open the trunk and hoist their luggage up to the door.
“Oh, they’re just kids. I guess I’m a sham.” Ash is saying, but I’m watching the girl. More specifically, the girl’s hair, which is dyed a vibrant shade of pink.
“Look at that ‘do,” I elbow Ash. “You’ve got competition now.” He grumbles and pulls self consciously at his platinum blond mohawk.
“I have first shift tomorrow, want me to snoop around and find out what two teens are doing taking a vacation in our little town? Hopefully not throwing each other off waterfalls,” I blow a strand of hair out of my face, still looking down at the street.
Ash watches as the hotel doors swing shut behind the duo and nibbles his lip like he does when he’s thinking. Then he gives an exaggerated shrug and stands up. “Eh, I’m over it. Where are your keys? I wanna get out of here.”
I hand him over my key ring and he sets off towards the roof entrance, not waiting up for me. I take one last look out over the town before following.
I’m late to my shift at the hotel, but it doesn’t matter. The only staff member around to notice this early in the morning is the cleaning lady, and I’m certain she gives less than a fuck about me. She doesn’t rat me out for being late, I don’t rat her out for the nights she spends in the vacant rooms.
I rush in and take my spot behind the counter, beginning my daily routine of staring at the clock interrupted by paperwork. About an hour in, I finally accept that Ash isn’t bringing me coffee like he promised ten times yesterday, and thinking about Ash leads me to think about last night, which leads me to remember about the pink girl and her friend. Ash said he didn’t care, but I’m still thinking about them (it’s not like there’s anything else to think about). There are two types of people that check into this hotel. Retiring couples and other seniors whose idea of a vacation amounts to no more than staring at a waterfall for a weekend, and families visiting students in the college the next town over. So what’s Pinkie doing here?
Just as I’m working through this, the elevator dings and the object of my thoughts emerges. She and her buddy are deep in conversation (she’s the type that moves her hands a lot while she speaks) and are on their way towards the door. I’m shocked at the fact they’re heading out so early until I realize it’s already eight.
Ms. Pink looks up and meets my eyes. I’m thinking she’s going to reprimand me for staring or something because she’s walking over but then she smiles and says: “Um, excuse me, but we’re heading out for breakfast.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you asking permission?”
“Oh, um, no,” She laughs nervously. “Just, if Elaine Carreaux and the others check in while we’re out, could you tell them that?”
“Of course.” Who the fuck is Elaine Carreaux?
“Thank you so much!” She hangs around for another awkward second as if trying to think of something else to say, before smiling cutely and making her way back over to her friend. I wait until they’ve left before pulling up our list of reservations and checking them out.
At first, it feels like I’ll never find the two mystery guests among the barrage of names and dates before me until I see that only two rooms were checked in yesterday. One a family of four, and the other- Pepper Butelier and Bonnibel Bauerman. Today, a large group is checking in at twelve, Elaine Carreaux among them.
Bonnibel and Pepper come back before the other group checks in and wait around in the lobby until they do finally arrive. I watch as they exchange hellos and the room is filled with clammer and talk that seems abrasive against the previously quiet morning. Eventually, they all trickle up to their rooms, and I’m left to carefully observe the clock once more. At twelve-thirty, the next shift arrives.
I get a text from Ash asking for lunch, and I feel the urge to barrage him with complaints about my missing morning coffee, but don’t. I’m just too tired, I guess.
When I get up to the apartment, I find him banging around on the drums. I set the bag of food on the table.
“Our neighbor yelled at me outside the building yesterday. She said she’d make a noise complaint to the landlord.” I drop onto the couch. Ash grins and smashes the cymbals forcefully before getting up and wolfing down the burger I got him.
“The fliers got printed for the show,” He says through a mouthful of food, gesturing to a stack of papers on the table. “Can you, like, put them up around?”
I play with the hem of my shirt. It’s a cheap dress shirt from Fred Meyer's: we have to wear them at the hotel. “Can you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m busy.” I think he just rolled his eyes.
“I have work, Ash!”
“Only in the morning. Marceline, they’re fucking posters it’ll take you ten minutes tops.” He knows that’s wrong, putting up the fliers always takes a long ass time.
“Are you ever going to grow up?” There’s a loose thread on my shirt and I’ve wound it so tightly around my finger that it’s turning purple.
“What’s your problem?” He’s looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Jesus, Ash, fine.” I really only agree so our argument will end, because I feel like I’m gonna scream. I need to get out of this apartment.
I launch myself off the couch and stomp outside, slamming the door shut behind me. He doesn’t run after me. I used to wish he would, now I’m thanking god that he doesn’t.
When I got home last night, Ash wasn’t there. When I woke up, he still wasn’t there, but he must have come back at some point because there were dirty dishes in the sink. The fliers on the table hadn’t moved.
I brought them to the hotel with me, thinking I could put them up on the way home, but now I’m thinking I should leave a couple on the counter here. I mean, visitors to Clear Falls are going to figure out pretty quick that watching water fall down a couple hundred feet gets old, and they’ll be looking for something else to do, right? I’m sure I can snag a few people’s interest before my manager yells at me for advertising in the workplace.
Just as I pick them up to find somewhere to display them, Bonnibel wanders into the lobby. The rest of her crew left earlier this morning.
“Hey,” I say after a moment of watching her fumble through her purse. She looks around as if there’s somebody else here I’m calling to. “Yes, you, Pinkie.”
“Uh, yes?” She says.
“Come over here,” I wait as she hesitates and then walks over, looking somewhat suspicious of me. I hold out one of the fliers. “My band is playing at the Treehouse tomorrow night. You should invite your friends.”
“You have a band?” She studies the little poster. There’s a picture of us playing at a show from a while back. I look at my own face, eyes closed in concentration.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I sort of expected her to shove the pamphlet back in my face but she’s really considering it. Her serious face makes me nervous.
“Pep and I will go.” She looks up and smiles. “But I don’t know about Elaine or the others. They have a lot of work to do.”
I nod and then ask casually: “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you guys doing in town?”
“Elaine is doing a photo shoot for her first line. She’s new to the fashion industry but she’s gonna be big, I know it. Here, how about this,” She puts the flier back on the counter. “I go to your concert, you check out one of the photo shoots. We’re up by the Falls nearly every day.”
“Uh, okay. But why do you want me at a photo shoot?”
She shrugs. “You seem like the sort of person with a wide range of influence. And Elaine needs publicity. So like, spread the word, or whatever.”
I honestly don’t know what to think. Five seconds ago I was handing out a show pamphlet, and now I’m headed to some kind of fashion show? But it sounds like she and her buddy are going to be at the Treehouse when we perform, so I guess I achieved my goal. Whatever it takes to get people to show up.
“Deal?” She asks, a small smile creeping onto her face.
“Deal.” I sigh, not really sure what I’m getting into.
She beams. It’s been ages since anybody’s beamed at me. I sort of forgot it was a thing people do. And it’s contagious: there’s a smile on my face too, now, and it’s a sincere one, instead of the regular sarcasm-stuffed variety.
On her way out the door, she whips back around, an indignant look on her face. “And if you ever call me ‘Pinkie’ again, you’ll end up at the bottom of the Falls!”
The next night rolls around faster than I expect, and before I know it I’m helping Ash carry a drum set onto the stage at the Treehouse.
The Treehouse is the closest thing to a club we have in town. It’s a normal enough bar and lunch spot, but on occasion, the tables are put away and the curtain on the far wall is drawn back to reveal a little stage. When the overhead lights go off, and the air is filled with dimmed stage lights and the voices of crowded people, there’s a sort of magic to the place. Not to mention the various plants and vines that collect along the walls, which give the bar its name along with a dream-like effect when the lights go out. Often when we’ve come here to dance our problems away, I’ve felt as though I’ve stepped into some kind of fairy revel- the kind that happens in forests at midnight.
There are a couple other bands and performers before us, so me and the others have time to relax before we go on. I’m grateful for this because for some reason I’m feeling more butterflies in my stomach than usual. However, rather than focusing on my nerves, I’ve decided to focus on the fact that Ash has barely spared me a glance since we got here.
I march up to him. “What’s your deal? You’ve been ignoring me all night.”
“No, I haven’t.” He doesn’t look up, just keeps fiddling with his drumsticks.
“Oh come on, you’re not a kid anymore, this isn’t some reality show drama. Can we just deal with this and move on?”
He finally looks at me. “Right now? Right before the show? Are you sure I’m the one trying to start drama?”
“Yes, right now! Right now is the only time you’ve been around long enough for a conversation since yesterday!” The air conditioning must be broken because it’s a thousand degrees in here and my palms are sweating.
“Look, we’re going on in like two minutes, can we just put this on pause?” His eyes are shifting around, our other band members are staring.
“No! We can’t just ‘put this on pause’-”
It’s right then that the mike screeches out on stage and an over enthusiastic male voice comes on: “Ok, next up we have the Scream Queens. I know they’re the ones you’ve been waiting for all night, so give it up!”
Applause erupts. Ash’s eyebrows raise and he shrugs- ‘Whoops! What can you do?’ . I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to accept that this is always how it’s gonna go with Ash and I: I try to fix us, he’s already given up.
It’s not any cooler out in the main room and I have to wipe my hands off on my legs. I try to forget our argument and occupy myself by searching the crowd as Ash gives a quick introduction. Most of the people here know who we are and have heard us before. Most of them.
I spot the blur of pink just as Ash hands off the mike to me. She’s sitting at a table in the back, her head bent over her plate. I keep my eyes on her as we all get adjusted.
They stay on her as the music starts, as the sound blows up our instruments, as my fingers find their way to the bass strings.
They stay on her as my voice reaches out across the room, loud and confident.
They stay on her until she looks up, and only then do I look away.