On With The Show

8

The party had already started when Nikki and Tommy arrived. People were drunk by the pool, and a few had taken the opportunity to just jump into the water to cool off. Nikki felt out of place; Tommy was ecstatic. The second they arrived, Tommy got swept away in conversation with a few people he presumably knew from when he lived in Covina earlier. Nikki sighed, taking an open bottle of Jack. He'd never been good with people – even as a kid, he never got what to say to a new person.

Hi, I'm Nikki. Who's your favourite serial killer? Mine's good Ol' Charlie Manson.

Yeah, that never worked. He should know – he's tried it. It's just easier when someone else keeps the conversation going.

He took a seat, watching the party go on. There were girls in bikini tops and crop tops, and most of the guys wore lighter colours, too. Nikki, in his dark leather pants and olive jacket stood out like the sore thumb he was. Then again, Tommy had been dressed similar to him, and he had no problem at all...

He shook his head, turning back to his drink. He was awful at this, wasn't he? It was different when he was on the Strip; nobody really gave a shit about anything. Partying was a lifestyle – in Covina, it was a side thing. Tommy had gone to get his van – and drums, of course – and said he'd be gone for at least an hour. He walked around, looking at people and mentally pointing out everything wrong with them.

That haircut makes you look eighty - just because it's the nineteen eighties, doesn't mean you need to LOOK eighty. Hawaiian shirt? Really? Oh for fuck's sake – sandals?

"Hey f.uck you, asshole," someone snarled, audibly spitting on someone else. Nikki grinned – this was exactly what this party needed.

"The f.uck is going on, blondie?"

The shorter guy glared. A few of the ones around started laughing. "F.uck, this little kid's going to do something?"

There was a cracking sound, and blood flowed down his face.

Nikki grinned. Finally. "I don't know who you are, but I'm with you here. You've got balls," he whispered to the blond, who grinned back. "Ready?"

"F.uck yeah."

The blond pushed his hair back, before sprinting forward, connecting his fist with the other man's face, knocking him onto the ground. Nikki grinned, elbowing one in the gut and smashing a bottle on the ground in front of another. He felt himself get slammed onto the floor, a faint metallic taste in his mouth. "You motherf.ucker," he snarled, getting back up onto his feet and connecting his fist with the jaw of the other man.

"F.uck!" The blond screamed as his assailant slammed him against a wall. Nikki glared, throwing a chair out of the way.

"Think twice next time, motherf.ucker," He growled, punching him in the throat and pulling the blond away from the wall.

A van slowed down in front of the yard. Nikki sprinted towards it, the blond following. "Get the f.uck in, Nikki!" Tommy yelled from the van. "It's not locked – oh hey, Vince."

Nikki bolted to the front, riding shotgun as the blond – Vince – climbed in the back. "Hey, Tommy. Hope you don't mind."

"Hey, f.ucker," Tommy said, laughing as he started to drive. "Mind the drums."

"You know him?" Nikki asked, confused.

"I slept in Tommy's van for a while. It's a long story; I'm not saying anything about it. Let me guess, you know Tom from LA?"

Nikki just nodded. "I stole a bottle of Jack. You want some?"

Vince just nodded as Nikki passed it back, taking a long swig.

"I'm gonna close my eyes, f.ucking sun's too damn bright," Nikki snarled, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.

*

"Aaaaaand he's asleep before we're even out of Covina. He's a real tough guy, that one," Tommy laughed, leaning back in his seat as he drove. "How've you been, Vince?"

Vince snapped out of his daydream, "Oh. Sorry, spaced out. A lot better, actually. It's gotten so much better since..." He trailed off. Tommy just nodded; he knew exactly what Vince was talking about.

"That's good. Amazing, actually. Though I take it the guys in Rock Candy didn't know?"

"You're the only one that knows. Or, well, remembers. A perk of being flat as fuck – it's easier to pass. Same goes for having a 'low' voice," He said, giving a dry laugh at the end of the sentence. "Though I left Rock Candy, today was my last gig with them. Backyard party circuit is great for getting chicks, but I don't know if I'm ready to... You know. On the plus side, I've got cash from most gigs and I'm a licensed electrician, so it'll be pretty easy for me to get a job."

Tommy nodded – ever since Vince came out to him, Tommy just understood.

That's the best thing about him, Vince thought.

A comfortable silence fell over them, with Vince and Tommy's slow breaths the only sounds in the car other than the noise from the engine as they headed back to LA. Tommy had spaced out, and was staring at the road as he drove.

"You know, you're the only one who called me Vince without fail ever since the moment I told you," He said, "Nobody else got it – not my 'friends', not my 'boyfriend' and sure as hell not my parents. Thank you, Tommy."

Tommy smiled softly, "No problem at all, Vince. It's who you are – calling you anything else would be weird. It would be as off as calling me Vassilikki."

Vince let out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess so, Tommy."

Vince always liked Tommy's sense of humour. Even when they were friends in Covina, he always felt like Tommy was one of the few people he really... connected with. Maybe it was his open mind, maybe it was his empathy, or maybe it was his humour. Maybe it was a mixture of all three. Vince didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. Tommy got him, he liked Tommy. That was all that mattered – they were friends. Somehow, even after Tommy moved to LA, he was exactly where Vince needed him to be, at the exact moment he needed him.

Vince was thankful for Tommy. He craved some form of a healthy friendship – one not filled with lies and manipulation. Any relationship like that, actually. Family was supposed to be like that. They'd filled his head with lies. "We'll always love you," they'd said. Sure had a strange way of showing it.

He dug his nails into his hand, staring out of the window. He couldn't cry. Not now, not with this other guy in the van. He didn't want to answer any questions for this stranger. He leaned his head against the window as Tommy turned on the radio, silently staring out as they drove back to Los Angeles.