“You invite me over, and I have to feed you. Every time. Why don’t we hang at my apartment then? It’s bigger, the fridge is full, and the sofa is so much more comfortable!”
He gets up and walks towards my kitchen. I follow.
“Because there is always someone there. Art always has a girl around. Why he is never at his own apartment is still a mystery!”
“I told you before. He doesn’t like to be alone too much.” He opens my fridge and shakes his head at its contents. “Seriously, Na… grocery shopping isn’t that hard to do. You don’t even have to leave the house. You can do it online.”
“But they don’t deliver the same day here, except if I order at six a.m. for an eight p.m. delivery. It sucks,” I whine.
“Let’s order in then!”
“I really wanted you to cook your famous mushroom risotto.”
“And yet, you bought nothing for me to do it.” He raises his hand in the air and walks towards the door.
“Don’t leave! Alright, we can order in!”
“I’m leaving but coming back, and you’re coming with me. Get your shoes and let’s go grocery shopping, so I can make you the food you want!”
“Yeah!” I dance, “You’re the best of the best!”
“I know. Hurry up before I change my mind.” I slide my shoes on and grab my purse.
“You’re going out… like that?” He winces.
“What do you mean?” I touch my hair, my face, and look at my clothes.
“Na, I don’t mind, but you drooled and sniffled while we were watching TV, and you look like a panda who made out with a vampire. You aren’t going to find the man of your life that way, girl.” He smiles, knowing he’s pushing my buttons.
“Perfect, then, let’s go. Don’t need to find a creeper who’ll love me only for my looks.”
Lars snorts. “Well, there are no risks any guy is going to fall for your beauty tonight. Come on, let’s go.” He gathers his hair into his fist and hides it under his baseball cap.
“Is your hair dirty, Rapunzel? Is this why you hide your glowing fur?” I know I’m right by the way he’s rolling his eyes and flipping me the bird. I chuckle. “You’re such a princess for an inked drummer. You’re right, Mr. Precious, maybe the woman of your life is the grocery cashier, and she won’t talk to you if she sees the filth in your hair.” We leave my apartment and take the flight of stairs.
“No, but she could snap a picture, sell it for a fortune to an American magazine or website, print everywhere that I’m a slob, and we see our sales go down.”
He opens the door, and the late fall cold swallows us. Thankfully, the little grocery store is just around the corner.
“You really think that if someone sees you with dirty hair, your sales are going to drop? You think the Darling Devils are at risk of having their fans not buy tickets because you have greasy fur?” I laugh. “Two words for you, Kurt Cobain.”
“We aren’t in the nineties anymore, and the grunge movement is dead, Na. Now everyone likes metrosexuals.”
“Whatever… you could take a dump on stage, and these girls would still be glad to have a sight of your ass. You’re that kind of celebrity, my dear friend.”
“If you say so… I’m still not taking any chances. Art’s sluttiness and Dan’s impulsivity are enough trouble. I don’t need to be acting up.”
“Yeah, dirty hair is such an act of rebellion.” We enter the grocery store and make our way to the dry food aisle.
“Do you want to split, to go faster, in case someone sees your dirty hair?”
“I don’t know why I put up with you. We’re here because you’re hungry and craving my risotto, and you still decide to bust my balls. Incredible,” he grumbles while picking up his favorite brand of rice.
“Yeah, but you love me, nonetheless, so why would I stop?”
“I’m not going to miss you when we go on tour next week. We need a break,” he tries to say seriously but lifts the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, I need you away, alright.”
“Let me guess, Mister Oliver Spencer is coming?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, knowing we’re going into slippery territory. If Lars tries to keep his disgust for Anna’s brother to himself, he always does a poor job at it.
“I got the short end of the stick when we met,” he mumbles.
“Why do you say that?” I pick the organic mushroom mix he uses in his recipe.
“For nothing. Let’s get the cream, the onions, the parmesan, the wine and the parsley. Can I assume you have broth, salt and pepper?”
I bite my lip. “For fuck’s sake, Na. You’re the worst in the kitchen. You need to find a super rich guy or one who can cook,” he says, taking my hand to drag me to the dairy aisle.
“I did! His name is Lars Trouble. He’s the drummer of a super amazing rock band, and he’s my best friend.” I smile. “And you know I’m not in the market for love anyway.”
“Neither am I.”
“But if you find someone one day, I would understand, you know…”
Lars stops and looks at me, as if he’s scanning my soul.
“Did you find someone? Is this what all this is about?”
“No.” I give him a faint smile. “I’m just saying—”
“Excuse me, are you Lars Trouble?” A barely of age girl asks over the cheese. Lars nods and smiles politely. “Can I have an autograph? I have a piece of paper in my purse,” she says, looking into her humongous handbag. I roll my eyes, reach for the notepad and pen I always carry with me, since I hang out with rock stars, and hand it to Lars. “Thanks.” She blushes.
“No problem,” he says before scribbling something hardly legible.
“Can I also ask for a picture?”
Lars winces, and I know it’s because of his hair. I laugh inside at his vanity but know better than to make fun of him in front of a fan. I step in. “I’m sorry, but if he takes a picture, then you’re going to post it on social media, and everyone is going to get their groceries here tomorrow and any other day, and I will starve because my friend won’t be able to fill my fridge anymore. What we can do is take your address and send you lots of swag signed by the three Devils. Deal?”
The eyes of the girl widen, and her face brightens. “Deal.”
Back at my place, Lars starts getting busy in the kitchen while I serve us a glass of wine.
“Just one,” he says.
“I know, Lars. Never drink too much, never fuck too much, don’t take drugs and drink lots of water. You are the most boring rock star in the universe.”
“I’m the most responsible one,” he replies, cutting the onions.
“Oh, yeah, and that too. Are the guys ready for the tour?”
“Yes. Dan is a little excited but bummed at the same time, and Art needs to get moving. Three weeks in Asia is going to be awesome.”
“How do you think Dan is going to deal without Anna?”
He shrugs. “I’m getting ready to pull a London again and have to make her come in as an emergency. But it’s Asia. It’s going to take a little longer this time for her to reach us.” A thousand stones grind my stomach at the thought of the trip to London, but I push away the discomfort I feel and smile.