Life Is For Living

“Welcome home, Jim, good night?” Ben, their driver, asked knowingly with a smile as he appeared from under the engine hood of the bus with grimy hands.
“Yeah, not bad,” Jimmy smirked. “Bus trouble?”
“Nah,” Ben replied, wiping his oily fingers on his boiler suit. “Well, maybe? I'm not sure.”
“I have every confidence that you know what you’re doing,” Jimmy teased, opening the door. Upon climbing aboard the Avenged bus, he was immediately greeted by a rowdy cheer. He smiled smugly in return.
“Dude, where have you been? You and Pinkie disappeared from the party at the same time and never came back. Did you get some last night?” Matt asked, laughing as he held his hand up for a high five. Jimmy met it with a satisfying slap.
“Yeah, brother,” he smirked, as more cheers erupted from his bandmates.
“Fucking yes,” Matt laughed, heartily. “What was she like?”
Jimmy put curled fingers to his temples and then sprung them away as he made a boom sound.
“Fucking mind blowing,” he elaborated, shaking his head.
“Meanwhile, the rest of us were stuck here in a sausage fest,” Johnny groaned, his lip curling into a hint of a smile.
Jimmy waved a hand at his disgruntled band mate, “Not my problem, Christ. Anyway, you had that roadie chick here, right?”
“Brian had that roadie chick,” Johnny corrected with a laugh, ducking as the brown eyed guitarist launched an empty can at him. “His guitar wasn’t the only thing she worked on last night,” he continued his assault, dodging yet another crushed, empty can. Brian looked around for another to throw, but scowled as he found nothing. Zacky cackled from behind his sunglasses, fearless to join in now that the ammunition had been depleted.
“Fuck off, you lot. She's fucking cool,” Brian groaned, covering his flushed face with his hands.
“So, did you get her number? Or was it just a smash and dash?” Johnny smirked, switching his aimed attack to Jimmy, who grimaced at his words.
“Please don’t ever say that again,” the lanky drummer laughed in disgust, “but fuck! I didn’t get her number.”
“Mistake,” Zacky teased, pulling a sharp breath in through his teeth. “Always get a hottie’s number.”
Jimmy was about to launch himself into a playful scuffle with Zacky, but their banter was cut short as Ben climbed aboard the bus.
“Bad news, folks – she’s not starting,” he announced, apologetically.
“Well, we’re not playing tonight, right? We were just travelling to the hotel,” Matt shrugged, “so we just wait for a replacement bus and leave a bit later.”
“I’ll radio dispatch and see what I can do. I’ll get you there tonight, guys, I swear,” Ben promised, visibly sweating with the stress.
“Relax, dude. It’ll be good,” Zacky reassured him, before leaning his head back. “Guess I’m napping.”
“Of course you are,” Brian quipped at him, before looking up at a retreating Jimmy. “Where are you going?”
“Got something to do,” Jimmy called over his shoulder and he descended the steps. “Call me when we’re ready to move.”

He skipped away from the bus and headed back towards Beatrice’s apartment. As the opportunity had presented itself, it seemed like a good idea to go back and get her number. After all, she was fun and down for it. If he ever came back to play here again, Jimmy would happily take a tour of her bedroom again, given the chance. She lived in a small complex not far from the venue, within a five minute walk. It was pretty straightforward to get there, and Jimmy had navigated his way back to the bus this morning as easily as he was now finding his way back there. The building had seen better days. It had probably been quite handsome back in its heyday, but now it had long been forgotten along with a lot of the rest of the city. He didn’t mind the slightly grubby appearance as he pushed through the door and headed to the two elevators. He pressed the call button and twiddled his thumbs as he waited for the doors to open. It occurred to him that he couldn’t really remember which floor Beatrice had lived on, only that it was fairly high up. He stepped into the elevator and squinted at the buttons, as though the answer might just suddenly pop into his mind. The adjacent elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor and the doors opened, letting a clear, instantly recognisable voice peal outwards into the foyer.
“A mimosa? Order me ten,” the voice paused, before letting out a tinkly laugh. “I know. Hair of the Great Dane, Ave, hair of the Great Dane. Nah, I haven’t slept yet, man. I already tried weed but it just made me fucking slow instead.”
He watched as she stepped out of the elevator in all her glory. She was looking pretty perky, all things considered. She’d brushed her hair into pigtails, and dressed herself up in eye-wateringly bright colours. A headache worthy combination, but somehow it worked, and it suited her personality down to a tee. It was a far cry from her muted look just an hour ago, though it was just as beautiful. Even more so.
“Beatrice,” he called, causing her to whip around on the spot.
“Jimmy!” she exclaimed, clearly surprised to see him as he stepped out of the elevator. She held up her finger to him as she spoke into the phone again. “A, hold on. Something’s come up, I’ll call you back in a minute.”
She hung up the phone and, despite her fatigue, gave Jimmy a wicked grin, instantly intimidating him. There was something about her that made him nervous, perhaps how sure of herself she was. From head to toe, she was magnetising; starting with her makeup which had been carefully repainted, flowing into her blouse and printed skirt, and all the way down to her knee high socks and electric blue heels.
“The Rev on my very own doorstep. What brings you here?” she asked, watching his eyes sweep up and down her, taking in her essence.
“Your skirt has lemons on it,” he replied, dumbly. She looked down at it and raised her eyebrows.
“By Jove, you’re right!” she gasped, making him blush a little, “but I presume you didn’t come here to comment on my outfit?”
“Uh, no,” Jimmy laughed, inwardly kicking himself as he faltered. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his explanation. Eventually, after a painful 5 seconds, Jimmy found his tongue.
“I’ve got some time to kill. You wanna get some breakfast?” he asked, trying to play it cool. Her devilish smile bloomed across her lips again.
“You gonna get me a mimosa?” she countered, playfully, tilting her head to one side.
“I’ll get you ten, you fucking animal,” he grinned, finding his confidence again.
She let out one of her divine giggles, “A man after my own heart. Lead the way, good sir.”

Despite the intimacy of the previous night, there was no awkwardness as they strolled out of the building. Though she was physically slower, Beatrice was as exuberant as ever in spirit as they pushed through the door. Jimmy looked back at the building as they stepped out into the sunlight.
“This place is kinda rundown,” Jimmy remarked, taking in the peeling paint and grimy windows.
“Yeah, I guess,” Beatrice concurred, sliding her sunglasses down over her green eyes before looking back lovingly at her building. “That revolving door, though. That’s sweet.”
Jimmy laughed, choosing not to point out the crack in the glass that Beatrice was obviously opting to overlook. She pulled out her phone, shooting off a quick text to her friend, before smiling up at him.
“Where are you taking me then?” she asked, tucking a loose strand of pink hair behind her ear.
“I don’t actually know anywhere here,” he admitted, with a shrug. “Where’s good?”
She scrunched up her nose as she thought, before snapping her fingers in triumph.
“I know somewhere that does godly pancakes. You want pancakes?”
Jimmy smiled, amused, “I always want pancakes. Let’s go.”
“Okay, follow me. It’s not far, and good thing too. I’m the dead walking this morning,” she groaned, forcing herself into a slow stroll down the street. Jimmy fell into step beside her as her statement triggering echoes of Dominic around his mind.
"If you’ve got any sense you’ll stay away from her."
Jimmy shrugged it off. So what if she liked to have fun? He couldn’t exactly claim to be innocent when it came to partying - drugs came with the territory of being famous, after all. They were far too easy to get hold of, and occasionally he’d dipped into something to enhance the party. What was so bad about that?
“I’m getting pancakes with maple syrup,” Beatrice announced, stretching her arms upwards as she walked. “Sooooo much syrup. All the fucking syrup.”
“You like the syrup, huh?” he laughed, as she threw her head back in mock bliss.
“I love the syrup,” she confirmed, with a little giggle. “If I drowned in maple syrup, I would die incredibly happy.”
“It doesn’t sound like the worst death ever,” Jimmy reasoned, enjoying the spectacle she was making of herself as she waved her arms about, continuing to proclaiming her love for the sugary condiment.
“There,” she exclaimed suddenly, interrupting her routine to point Jimmy towards a dingy looking café. “Thatis where you will have the best pancakes you have ever tasted.”
“You’re really talking this place up, you know. Might be a disappointment when we get in there,” he teased, smirking at her offended expression.
“I’m not so sure you deserve these pancakes anymore,” she sassed, giving him a playful smile.
Jimmy snorted and gave her a shrug, “Well, I guess we’d better not go in then.”
“I said you didn’t deserve them,” Beatrice countered, pushing past him. “I’ve got a date with drowning in maple syrup.”
Jimmy followed her towards the door of the small café with a grin, “Wait up, I guess I'll try them out.”
“You’ll be eating your words, Rev,” she called over her shoulder.
“I’ll be eating the pancakes first,” he laughed after her, as he tailed her through the doorway to the best pancakes in Oregon. Neither of them had paid much attention to how much they were enjoying each other’s company. So far their shared love of fun, and pancakes, had overshadowed the deep connection that was sparking beneath the surface. After all, why read into it too much? They’d be going their separate ways before long, and would likely never see each other again… right?

Notes

Pancakes, though.