tongue of the serpent ➵ a.b.

Chapter 37: To Keep

To get down to a singular point, a singular topic of interest about the next two days was, seemingly, impossible. Andy had been comforting me more often, living up to my expectations. Word had gotten around that Juliet had been brought to the loony home - she was finally in the nut house where she belonged! (No harsh feelings, though.)

The duet had been coming along nicely. Andy learned the song, frontwards and backwards, in record time. Though, the musicality was falling apart. Frey and Kane refused to go to practice together over a small disagreement about what a magazine article claimed. According to the magazine, an unknown source contacted them, spilling out all the "correct" information about Frey and Kane. The article told lies of a monstrous proportion. These days, the media got on our ass more than Frey did when he was around food and hot chicks. There were stories from Astaroth, telling me he stayed up late to watch the stark and utter horror of Frey crawling in through the hotel door, drunk and throwing up. He had done this for the past two nights now; going get buzzed and hooking up with any sweaty and alcohol-scented body he could find. Frey's drinking problem caused an upstir of theories, saying he allegedly is with Kane and is currently cheating on him. I tried to block these thoughts and accusations, for they reminded me of another couple: Andy and I. Though drinking wasn't a problem between us, I constantly was comparing Kane and Frey's sudden outbursts of fighting and fists flying to Andy and myself's old dilemma. Frey was strong and cared for Kane, but could just as easily fill the shoes of a giant monster: Andy is the same. Kane was meak, making up for what he didn't have in muscles and emotional strength in his touch; Kane filled those shoes of an escapee, fleeing from the monster, sky-high: I was the same

I tried not to pay attention to the constant verbal blows Frey would use to push down Kane, down to his dirt-covered knees. It was a king and a peasant; abusing minds to show the power of what a 5'6" man could do.

As the men of the group paced themselves throughout the week, for the third day of rehearsal, Andy and I set out on the strip. We hit famous shops and poked around in designer stores, pretending like we could actually afford this crap. People called out our names and we would duck and cover; if you thought I was getting in trouble today, no way!

Around 11, we hit a Subway. I ordered a tuna sandwich with peppers, Italian bread, and mozzarella cheese. Andy purchased something to do with meatballs. We got some soft drinks and a couple cookies and went outside to eat. We sat at a table Subway provided and joked for a good hour. Andy told me of ways we could spend our time. The Walk of Fame was an option; I always wanted to see Michael Jackson and Ozzy Ozbourne's stars. Even though it was October, the waters at the beach were somewhat cool; so that was also an option. We thought of Disney Land and laser tag, but those weren't exactly fulfilling options. I motioned the possibility of heading back to the hotel and filling up on the promise Andy had made me only a few days prior.

"I know!" Andy interjects, breaking up my thoughts. "Let's go to my house."

The driving on the freeway was tedious. I was eager to see the place where Andy used to live, where insanity roamed.

As he opened the front door with the barely-used key, I felt worried. What was inside this home? The front was a Victorian-styled house, glowing a deep red and a gothic black. It had columns on the front porch, which made me laugh of how stereotypical it was for him to own this house.

The front door swung open with the force from Andy's hands. My eyes adjusted to the darkened foyer. Andy reaches over, clicking on the lights. I immediately find myself staring at the dirtiest kitchen I had ever seen. Juliet had completely let herself go, letting dishes pile up, sinks clog, and allowing a putrid smell escape the refrigerator.

I hear Andy's keys being set down on the sticky, marble counter. He whispers, "Shit..."

I allow my eyes to gaze on the walls: a deep, glowing red lays there. I walk further, inviting myself to snoop around. The living room was amazingly decent. Further on, in the bathrooms and guest room, I found them somewhat dirty, mold beginning to form in the bathrooms.