How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Forty Eight: Uh...

I squinted my eyes from the hot sunlight. Malcolm led me up the stairs where the surface world was flying by in heavy traffic. "There, that wasn't so bad, right?"

I admit, it had been kind of fun. Realizing I wasn't going to get sick my anxiety eased up a little. Our stop came rather quick and we hurried off with a couple other people, all of us stepping over the fallen burrito. Pouring out into the fresh air, we scattered. I for one, had no clue where we were going so I just followed Malcolm. By now he had stomped out the remainder of his cigarette and led me across a rather busy street. Car horns honked and Malcolm ignored the vicious yelling. "Nice people," I observed. 

"Ya' get used to it," Malcolm said. "Drivers hate pedestrians an' pedestrians hate drivers."

"Where is everyone going in such a hurry?" I asked. A light breeze blew my hair around my face and I almost wished I had gotten my hair cut at the barber's when I had the chance. 

"Business, errands, shit breaks," Malcolm said. "Could be anythin', really." He pulled me out of the way just in time as someone came soaring by on a bicycle, the bell ringing too late. Malcolm huffed. "An' everyone hates those guys."

**********

I wasn't surprised to see Malcolm pull open the doors to yet another bar. But this one was a lot nicer than the one we were at before. This was more of a mini restaurant that happened to have a bar attached. And besides the chocolate, I hadn't eaten anything all day, so I was okay with it. Before we could find a place to sit, a voice called out. "Hey, Mal!"

Malcolm looked up, attempting to recognize who had just called for him. There were a couple of men sitting at a table against the wall, both of them with long brown hair. "Come on," he said to me. "I know those freaks."

I followed Malcolm up to the table where he was immediately welcomed with pats on the back and tousling of his hair. I, too, had been given a chair to sit in and allowed to join in on this reunion. "Now where the bloody hell have you been?" one of them asked. He wore glasses so large he looked like an insect. The other one was writing something down on a napkin. 

"I should ask the same," Malcolm said lighting up another cigarette. "Been on the road."

"Oh yeah?"

"Workin' my arse off an' what have you," Malcolm said. "While you two have been swimmin' in it."

"Bet you get yours for free, eh, Mal?" the one writing said. He paused what he was doing and stuffed the napkin in his pocket as Malcolm reached for it. "Ah ah ah, this ain't yours."

"I wouldn't call gettin' drunk an' havin' a hangover free," Malcolm said, leaning back in his chair. "An' what's that love note you're hidin' from me?"

"It's his latest work," the man with the glasses said, rolling his giant eyes. "Thinks this is gonna make him big."

"I never said that," the apparent poet said. Malcolm and Glasses laughed. "I only said this would get me noticed is all, that's all I said, alright?"

"You've got some stiff competition what with Bon an' all," Malcolm said. A woman in a white apron came by and passed around four pints of golden beer. She hurried away and I stared at my wonky reflection in the bubbly glass. "Man's fuckin' smart."

"How's Bon doing anyway?" Glasses asked. "Haven't seen him in a while, starting to think he's settled down." Malcolm set his glass down and hiccuped. 

"Nah, he's not there yet," Malcolm said. "He's the life of the party as always. Maybe he's cut back to four bars a week instead of five, ya' know." The men turned their attention to me while Malcolm drank.