After the Show
Tension simmers in a circle of insecure artists standing outside the Metro after a concert, smoking, each envying one another’s overlapping achievements and licking wounds from mutual rejection, or inferiority, real or imagined.
Each of them feels lonely and unworthy in his own way. On the way home one or two may decide he would have been better off staying home in bed. Still others will feel recharged and restored for having gone out and engaged with the city’s music scene and his friends in it. One or two will feel both of these.
“Time to leave.” The concert had just ended, and a security guard was waving me toward the stairs. I estimate she was 5 foot, 3 inches, and weighed 100 pounds, and I wondered what she would do if I refused to leave. But her tactical uniform suggested answers I wasn’t looking for. The rest of the security crew was wearing black street clothes, but if I recall correctly, she had a military style beret.
After the Show
Tension simmers in a circle of insecure artists standing outside the Metro after a concert, smoking, each envying one another’s overlapping achievements and licking wounds from mutual rejection, or inferiority, real or imagined.
Each of them feels lonely and unworthy in his own way. On the way home one or two may decide he would have been better off staying home in bed. Still others will feel recharged and restored for having gone out and engaged with the city’s music scene and his friends in it. One or two will feel both of these.
“Time to leave.” The concert had just ended, and a security guard was waving me toward the stairs. I estimate she was 5 foot, 3 inches, and weighed 100 pounds, and I wondered what she would do if I refused to leave. But her tactical uniform suggested answers I wasn’t looking for. The rest of the security crew was wearing black street clothes, but if I recall correctly, she had a military style beret.
Pocket Dispatch from Outside the Theater
“My ride’s here.” A conversation that had been slow and searching became quick and scripted. A tiny car crawling across a phone screen in a ridehailing app set the pace.
“Thanks again for coming out.”
“Yeah, of course. Thanks for inviting me. We should do this more often.”
“Umm, yes please.” Laughter, earnest but forced. “You know I’m down anytime.”
“All right,” Tanya said, turning away as she waved to Cheyenne, who turned away slightly without knowing quite where to go. She checked her own app. She had forgotten to press the request button. She would have to wait longer. She decided not to mention this, and craned her neck to look down the street for a car she knew was not approaching.
Tanya was still watching her car approach when she turned back.
“You know he likes you,” she said.
“Who?” Cheyenne said, wondering if she had energy left to feign ignorance and surprise. She did not.
“Adam.” Tanya held Cheyenne’s gaze, her face lowering with her eyebrows fixed. Expectation turned to indignation as she waited for Cheyenne to acknowledge the obvious so they could get on with some proper gossip. She was nearing disgust when Cheyenne cracked.
“Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and smiling, as though she had just remembered. “That’s a whole… thing.” In fact, she had just remembered she still hadn’t hailed a ride. “He’s a lot. And he’s my boss.”
A white Toyota Camry approached and slowed down, its hazard lights blinking. “Might be good for you,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
Cheyenne held her breath. Another forced, tight smile. She rolled her eyes. “Why not? Sounds like a great idea.”
She eyed her phone again and tapped the button to request her ride.
“Good night,” Tanya said over her shoulder, and then she performed the choreography of the modern exit: Turning her head away just as her body disappeared into the Camry’s rear passenger door almost all at once, followed by an ankle and a Chelsea boot that slipped inside just as the door slammed with a muted thump. Her car pulled away, sending a pile of leaves into a tiny vortex. Cheyenne exhaled and looked the other way down the wide street.
From this new vantage point, she saw a man approaching her from the entrance of the venue the two women had just left. They recognized each other in the same moment, and the muscles in both of their bodies relaxed. Smiles earnest, genuine.
“Adam.”
“Hey. Are you getting out of here?”
“Yeah.” A moment’s silence hung heavy between them, so Cheyenne rushed to fill it: “I’ve had about all the fun she could stand.” Then she wished she hadn’t.
“Same,” Adam said. He looked away for a moment, then reached inside his jacket pocket as though he had just remembered something. He pulled out his keys. “Need a ride?”
Cheyenne almost dropped her phone as she jerked it upward to unlock it. Her ride was approaching from around the corner. She would be charged a fee if she canceled it, and there was no reason to.
“Actually,” she said, raising the pitch of her voice at the end into a question, “Why not? Sounds like a great idea.”
Pocket Dispatch from Outside the Theater
“My ride’s here.” A conversation that had been slow and searching became quick and scripted. A tiny car crawling across a phone screen in a ridehailing app set the pace.
“Thanks again for coming out.”
“Yeah, of course. Thanks for inviting me. We should do this more often.”
“Umm, yes please.” Laughter, earnest but forced. “You know I’m down anytime.”
“All right,” Tanya said, turning away as she waved to Cheyenne, who turned away slightly without knowing quite where to go. She checked her own app. She had forgotten to press the request button. She would have to wait longer. She decided not to mention this, and craned her neck to look down the street for a car she knew was not approaching.
Tanya was still watching her car approach when she turned back.
“You know he likes you,” she said.
“Who?” Cheyenne said, wondering if she had energy left to feign ignorance and surprise. She did not.
“Adam.” Tanya held Cheyenne’s gaze, her face lowering with her eyebrows fixed. Expectation turned to indignation as she waited for Cheyenne to acknowledge the obvious so they could get on with some proper gossip. She was nearing disgust when Cheyenne cracked.
“Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and smiling, as though she had just remembered. “That’s a whole… thing.” In fact, she had just remembered she still hadn’t hailed a ride. “He’s a lot. And he’s my boss.”
A white Toyota Camry approached and slowed down, its hazard lights blinking. “Might be good for you,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
Cheyenne held her breath. Another forced, tight smile. She rolled her eyes. “Why not? Sounds like a great idea.”
She eyed her phone again and tapped the button to request her ride.
“Good night,” Tanya said over her shoulder, and then she performed the choreography of the modern exit: Turning her head away just as her body disappeared into the Camry’s rear passenger door almost all at once, followed by an ankle and a Chelsea boot that slipped inside just as the door slammed with a muted thump. Her car pulled away, sending a pile of leaves into a tiny vortex. Cheyenne exhaled and looked the other way down the wide street.
From this new vantage point, she saw a man approaching her from the entrance of the venue the two women had just left. They recognized each other in the same moment, and the muscles in both of their bodies relaxed. Smiles earnest, genuine.
“Adam.”
“Hey. Are you getting out of here?”
“Yeah.” A moment’s silence hung heavy between them, so Cheyenne rushed to fill it: “I’ve had about all the fun she could stand.” Then she wished she hadn’t.
“Same,” Adam said. He looked away for a moment, then reached inside his jacket pocket as though he had just remembered something. He pulled out his keys. “Need a ride?”
Cheyenne almost dropped her phone as she jerked it upward to unlock it. Her ride was approaching from around the corner. She would be charged a fee if she canceled it, and there was no reason to.
“Actually,” she said, raising the pitch of her voice at the end into a question, “Why not? Sounds like a great idea.”