Truth Or Dare
Three friends sit outside. It’s cold. The scene is a small bar tucked neatly west of the highway, but its patronage is plentiful. Upon the somehow sheik picnic benches, they sit and shiver, sharing pitchers of colder brew and memories of warmer times. It’s simple, as all true friendships are.
Three universes loosely sharing a moment, all alone in thought but together in the most random of conversations. They have plans for the rest of night, and none are too terribly enthused. It is something to do, something to break the mold of the mundane life they are sharing: work, sleep, rinse, repeat.
And then their multiverse collides with the force of the unknown. A girl plops down in the open seat, sitting next to the man least interested in her–based solely upon definition and things as predetermined as chromosomes. She’s cute…the only word to describe her. Short and well-dressed…her makeup betrays the existence of a regular nightlife–dark and dramatic, sexy and sassy.
The friend who sits directly across from her pulls a long drag from his cigarette and exhales above her head. Welcome to his world–yellow teeth and dried curses. She tells them that she is fulfilling a dare, and in this particular case the most unfortunate of dares. Her friends, a montage of twenty-somethings who look as interesting as cardboard, have put her up to the most risky of tasks: sit and talk with a table of complete strangers. Yeah…
The one who sits across from her isn’t entertained, but annoyed. He thinks that this will indeed be fun. The invader upon a good night; the sex and sass they did not need. The men break their silence. The one who sits across says dryly…
“Hello…my name is Elijah.”
Oh yes, the name is contrived, and so is his story. He tells her that they are in a band, having a drink before their show downtown. Club Emo’s. 1 o’clock. Her dark smoky eyes light up. A piqued interest, indeed. Yes, they are playing tonight…sharing a drink before dimmer lights and looser women–looser only perhaps. The leader of this most expansive of lies is in total character, yet his friends smirk and cover muffled laughs. Rookies.
Their band is called Xander & The Screaming Queens, he goes on. In between drags of a cigarette, which one can assume is nothing but a Virginia Slim as the shoe would certainly fit, she asks leading questions…
“What kind of music do you play?”
“We’re a cover band.”
This Elijah goes on to list their best songs, which they are of course playing tonight: Tom Sawyer by Rush, Dani California by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Say it Ain’t So by Weezer… drawing a blank he turns to his cohorts asking what else they’re playing tonight. He finds no aid, just smiles. Big friendly smiles.
She loves Rush. Who’d have thunk it.
Putting out his cigarette, Elijah pulls another from his pack…”Ever seen a bumper stick that simply reads ‘XSQ.’ in Times New Roman font?–” He lights it. “–That’s us.”
“Oh my god, no!” She seemed to say half expecting to have seen one…
The lie grew without control. In little time, they were opening for Cobra Starship and Metro Station on February 3rd. Elijah had given up teaching high school, her very profession, to live the rock and roll dream. Xander…well that came from the middle name of the disinterested male to her right. It was his middle name. His aid would be nearly all the help Elijah would have in his most contrived life from his friends…
She asked how many people were in their group. Holding up four fingers, Elijah says five. The only slip. Quickly recovering, he blames the alcohol. “Xander’s our lead singer…” Pointing to their most silent of compatriots, “He’s on guitar.”
“And you?” she asked leadingly.
“Drums.” Exhaling another hot drag. “We have a bassist and a keytarist, but they’re downtown setting up.”
And then the silent friend speaks, “Keytarist?! Please!”
Elijah quickly defends their imaginary bandmate: “Hey, you leave her alone! She tries very hard!” The defense of those who do not exist only adding ethos to their tale.
They sit there, members of the perfect lie. An invader given a story. Not a friend made, but an enemy kept out of the city walls, for these times are for the innocent moments of brothers. And her…the willful consumer of all that was never true…
Oh, but there was truth. Elijah in faux jealousy stamps out a cigarette, the physical manifestation of his anger, and tells her that Xander is in fact gay and the main attraction of their female fans. Xander’s disinterest throughout the twenty minute conversation rooted in a taste her dramatic makeup and highlighted hair could not satisfy. She is instantly taken aback, proclaiming, “No! No way!” He looks good, fit for the lead singer of a hot band of rockers and sex addicts. Xander defends the only truth they’ve shared throughout the night with little success, while Elijah drones on about how tiring it is to pull the groupies off of Xander in order to satisfy that which does turn him on, dramatic makeup and highlighted hair.
She refuses to believe it–the only true thing they’ve said. Maybe she was attracted to him, maybe her brain was simply incapable of truth after the copious amounts of bullshit they had fed her…
Killing his glass of beer, Elijah stands. He tells his XSQ brethren that they need to leave and get ready for the gig. Without batting an eye in her general direction, he walks by leaving her with one piece of love, “1 o’clock…Emo’s…downtown…be there or be square.”
And they all walk off. Members of the perfect lie. Members of the perfect band, they who never miss a note or never struggle for the love of the crowd–but rock and roll all night long.
Why did I lie to this girl?
Why…I lie to every girl, especially those who came to know me based solely upon a dare. Truth or Dare never seemed so perfect. And maybe she showed up…looking for the band she’ll never hear, that no one will ever hear…
And then she’ll remember us forever. Living on in infamy within her mind, forever. The guys who lied. The girl who believed. And it goes on and on and on…
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