What Might've Been (Cricky)

Indirect Mail

When I was younger, I used to play a game with some of my friends. Someone would dress up in a cape and pretend to be Dracula, and whoever they caught would be Dracula the next night. We would play this game for weeks on end. When we got older, Dracula would have to try and trick the person they caught into being bit. The game faded away as it was played less and less, and eventually it was forgotten, charted into the scrapbook of summer memories. 

Later, I actually read Dracula. He was the kind of guy that they tell mothers to 'lock up their daughters' for. He would pray on women because they were vulnerable to his seduction. It still remains a wonder to me why anyone would be in love with a vampire at all. They all seem to end up this way. 

But I am convinced that Chris might actually be a vampire. He's thin and pale and has the kind of wisdom one only gets from being around for a long time. And if he really is a vampire, then I can understand the appeal. In my imagination, I'd marked the time he'd invited me to that diner as a date. I didn't know if he felt the same way, but the awkwardness of how he asked the question gave me the impression that he thought so too. 

Secretly, I thoroughly enjoyed reading. It rather lame, I know. This is why I keep it a secret. I used to go to the library on a weekly basis. Eventually, I found other things that took up my time, so my trips spread out a little bit. I'd never been to the library in this town, though. I'd have to get myself a library card and acquainted with the horror and serial killer sections. 

I was surprised to find that when I was at the library, I wasn't the only one there for something other than a computer. But that was impossible. The person I was seeing is in prison. "Ronnie? " I asked, expecting no response. There was none, either. It wasn't him. 

Flashback:

"You look like one of those horror-goth types, " Someone told me. "What's your name? " 

Nervous with reason, I stuttered out my name. "I'm R-r-rick Ol-l-lson. " 

He shook his head. "That's a lame-ass name. You need something badass." He put his hand to his chin as he thought. Then he snapped his fingers. "Ricky Horror. " 

I liked it a lot. "I'm gonna use that, " I thought allowed. 

"Good. I'm Ronnie Radke. " He held out his hand and I shook it. 

End of flashback.

If it wasn't Ronnie, who was it?  I approached the person and tapped them on their back. He turned around. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"You look like someone I know. Who are you?"

"I'm Ryan Seaman." He looked me over. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ricky Horror." I would've said my real name, but out of habit I stopped doing that.

"For real?" He laughed. "Who told you to call yourself that?"

"A guy named Ronnie Radke."

"Well he sounds pretty cool. If I ever get to meet him, I think we could have some fun conversations." He snapped his fingers. "Aren't you in that band? Motionless in something-rather?"

"Motionless in White. You've seen us?"

"I bought a ticket to the show a few days ago." The first show I played. "Wish I could say you were amazing, but I could barely hear you." He rubbed the back of his neck. 

"That's okay. Maybe you'll hear me better the next show." I shrugged, though I doubted it. 

"Maybe." He shook his head and returned to his to books he was looking at before. 

Suddenly realizing that I was off track, I went up to the front desk and started talking up the lady working there for a library card. She handed me a card and a pen, asking me to sign my name to verify it. The pen made my signature faster than I could think about it. She raised an eyebrow at my speed, but gave me the card quickly anyways, telling me I was all set to check out whatever I wanted. I rushed over to the section of horror novels. I found a post-it note stuck on the shelf. Unable to resist, I took it and read it over. 

Ricky, 

I don't know how to say this, but I think of the dinner we had out together as a date. I really enjoyed it, and want to do something like it again. Maybe not exactly like it, but a second date type of thing. What would you say to that?

-Chris

I read it over again and again. Why would he leave this here? Was it on purpose? An accident? I didn't understand. The note looked crumpled up, but it had obviously been smoothed out. Why leave it here though? Did he know I would find it? So many questions, so few clues.

Eventually, I grew tired of dwelling on the note and decided to just ask about it. I would go over to see Chris and ask him outright. I texted him that I was coming, too nervous to call. He never responded, but I wasn't taking no for an answer if he did. I had to know. 

I drove all of the way to the house, knocked on the door, and was surprised when TJ answered it, an intrigued look on his face. "How can I help you?" He leaned against the door, his upper arm hitting the frame while his forearm draped over his head. His other arm rest at his side.

What a flirt. 

"I'm looking for Chris," I explained. "Is he here?"

"He's out right now."

"Oh, do you know where? I really have to talk to him." My knee started shaking involuntarily. The note I'd found in the library was in my hand. TJ took it. "Hey! That's mine!" I reached for it but he pulled out of my grip while he read it. 

"I see. You and Chris are being.....irresponsible." He crumpled the note up and dropped it. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "You know you shouldn't be in a relationship with your bandmates."

"I don't give a damn about your opinions on cooperate laws." I crossed my arms.

"Lighten up, sugar," He chuckled. "Be wary."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "And don't call me 'sugar.'"

He sighed. "Listen, if there's one difference between me and Chris, it's that he'll break your heart. He'll take it a crush it to a million pieces." He pointed to himself. "If you were mine, you'd have no emotional ties to sever." He stepped closer to me, resting his hand on the doorframe to keep himself from falling over. "Chris'll get you all caught up in his web."

"I don't care. I'm not taking advice from a slutty flirt."

His eyebrows shot up. "A slutty flirt?" He practically grinned, stepping back into the house. "I don't know who told you what, but you should make your own impressions of people before you start saying shit about them. And by the way," he started to close the front door, "Chris is buying you flowers. He was gonna show up at your place and ask to take you into his arms and dance with you until the stars spun as though you were drunk. His exact words."  

"You're lying." Chris isn't that forward. Is he?

"I'm a liar now too?" He pretended to look hurt. "Be careful what arrow you let pierce your heart, loverboy."