Chapter 4:

"That’s awful!" Sheena exclaimed lightly as she entered the tour bus and heard the harsh Dr. Dre gangsta-rap Munky had been listening to for the past hour. It had been two hours since the show, and to relax Munky enjoyed listening to music and playing Solitaire…Sheena noticed this and thought it more than somewhat odd.

Definitely not something any of Munky’s fans would ever expect him to do. (But then again KoRn is far from cliché.) His hands moved fast over the cards as he played. Sheena vaguely remembered one time a week ago when Head had played Crazy Eights with him. Their hands had been a blur as they quickly moved their cards over the small table adjacent to the couch in the TV room. She silently marveled at such graceful hands, so perfect, with long, delicate fingers. She could only imagine those large tan hands running over her body, playing her as marvelously as he played his guitar…

She sat across from him after she’d grabbed a Bud Light for herself. She was convinced he could read her mind as he looked at her. Hoped he couldn’t. Knew he could as soon as he shook his head, his dreadlocks swinging gently from one side of his head to the other. She blushed.

"What is this?" she asked as she listened to the rapper on the tape talk about fucking chicks for a living. Couldn’t she hear that his big dick was up some other bitch’s pussy? He was busy! She’d have to reschedule her appointment. Munky suavely changed the song, away from the extremely amusing interlude. He inhaled his cigarette, and blew it out. He said, "It’s ‘The Chronic’. Old-ass CD. Head’s. It’s fucking awesome."

So, she was obviously talking to him again.

"Oh. I see. Why is it so—"

"Hardcore?" he guessed as he finished the Solitaire game. She answered as he grabbed the four piles now on the table and put them together to shuffle them.

"No. Like…sexual."

He smiled. The look he gave her sent shivers up her spine. That same pathetic, motherfucking, look. "There’s nothing wrong with sex." He opened his mouth to add something else, but shut it as an afterthought. After a moment of careful consideration, he said, "We talk about it a lot because we think about it all the time."

"Why?"

"Are you saying you don’t think about it sometimes?" he asked skeptically, teasing her now.

"No. Well, sometimes, but—" This was unfair. He cleared his throat, and answered her question.

"I don’t know why we think about it all the time. Hormones. It feels good," he said lightly. "Wanna play?" he asked, already dealing her a hand. She silently thanked him for ending the conversation. But she could tell he still thought about it as he played Crazy Eights with her. He was experienced after years of playing, and kept his cards in his hands, so that she won. She may suck at cards, but Sheena was not stupid. She knew he was a great card player; he’d kicked Head’s ass mercilessly over and over again, she remembered. She grabbed his hand after he’d congratulated her for beating him and discovered his excellent hand.

"Don’t do that this time," she said as he shuffled the cards.

"Don’t do what?" he asked in perfect innocence. She rolled her eyes.

"Don’t let me win," she answered as she laid down her first card.

He beat her miserably. Within five turns.

Fieldy came from the cubbies, and grabbed an ice-coldie from the icebox. He asked,"Hey man, don’t you have Tommy Lee’s solo album? It’s something like ‘Methods of—oh damn, ‘Methods of—

"Mayhem?" Munky asked. Fieldy nodded, and Munky excused himself from Sheena. He let his cards rest face up on the table. He disappeared into the back. After a minute he returned with a CD. After giving it to Fieldy, he sat at table and popped it into the CD player.

"What song?"

Munky carefully deliberated for a few seconds before answering. His face was twisted in indecision as he shot a confused look to Fieldy and then a sideways one to Sheena. This wasn’t helping him score points with her. Not at all.

But he insisted that this was the only good song on the album and put it to number 4. GET NAKED!

"Hey Jon, you hearing this shit?" Fieldy asked in amusement as Jon’s tall frame lumbered into the room. As he listened to Foxy Brown’s sexy interlude, a faint smile crossed his gaunt features. To Munky’s surprise, Sheena smiled at him. "I like Foxy. She’s good," she said softly.

He gave her that knowing smile. She’d come to wonder if he really knew that look sent shivers up her spine. If he knew that it made her uncomfortable. If he even knew what he was doing, how venomous that look really was. If he knew, it would be a cruel thing to keep on doing. But if he didn’t know…

Then it was just as scary, if not more so.

The song ended, and he shakily took it out of the CD player. He popped it back in its case. Sheena wanted to look at the inside animation, and he was reluctant to let her at first. But when she insisted, he gave it to her and quickly left the room to fetch something to distract her. He didn’t think it was a good idea for her to see the picture of some guys eating a girl out or the other gratuitous animation in that cover. He vaguely remembered the Follow The Leader photo shoot, where the guys had posed on couches in front of a wall decorated with tied up women in erotic poses. He thought he’d never forget it—the keg party would be even harder to forget, what with the rivers of Coors Light and the strippers—but more and more he was beginning to wish he hadn’t done that. If Sheena ever saw it, what would she think?

He was lucky she didn’t hate him already. He loved porn; he admitted it freely to anyone who ever asked him. But it was because he didn’t care about those women. That was the beauty of it all: he didn’t have to care about them. He could look at their bodies and see them as they were without putting in any wining or dining. It was an easy way to relieve your desires. Until you got sick of relieving your desires by snagging yourself on a staple. Until you got sick of making up a dream world where you were the pimp of a million beautiful whores that loved you just for who you were. More and more, he was losing interest. For once he wanted to get to the real thing. To know, in part, what he’d been missing all these years.

He didn’t just want to be infatuated; he wanted to be in love.

He thought that he had a way to show Sheena how much he cared for her in a way she’d like.

"Sheena," he started as he walked back into the room holding his sketchpad.

"Munky, just—please—just don’t talk to me right now," was her answer. She had folded her arms over the closed cover the Methods of Mayhem CD. There was no anger in her voice; just sadness. Helpless solitude.

Without a word, he pushed in the seat beside her and opened his sketchpad to the couple of pages where he’d drawn her.

It took her a second to react to them. But only a second. "Oh, wow. Who drew those?"

"Me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You’re so beautiful; I can’t help but wanna draw you." It was the most romantic thing he’d ever said. It made her blush. His dreads silently brushed her cheek.

Before her wide eyes were pictures of her, so realistic they may as well have been photographs. One picture was of her watching television with Fieldy and David; the other one was laughing with Head. Another one—at which she frowned slightly—was of her, asleep, under her covers.

"Did you draw these from real life, or can you just draw them like that from your head?"

"I’m sorry," he apologized, referring to the one where she slept, the one that lingered so precariously under her furrowed brow. "I was up all night and I took a peek at you. The first night that you stayed with us—"

He felt her shiver at the thought of her watching him when she slept. "It’s okay."

"Really?"

Sigh. "Yeah." She was struggling between excitement and nervousness as his long finger traced its way down her collarbone.

"Yeah."

"Jimmy?"

"Mmm-hmm?" Munky asked. Despite himself, he had burrowed his head softly into the side of her neck. He hadn’t meant to, but her scent was so enticing that he’d been drawn to it. It was spicy and mild; it was wonderfully passionate. The smell made him want to taste her. To taste what went so sweetly along with that smell. With his pointy nose he found the place in the back of her neck where she’d sprayed her perfume, and kissed it. The shower of her wonderful brown hair caressed his stiff dreadlocks. He waited under that warm blanket as she tensed, as the fire from his kisses melted her will. But when she relaxed he kissed it again.

"Please stop." He didn’t. Because he knew she didn’t want him to. What was holding her back? Just one night…he loved her…all he wanted to do was love her…didn’t she see that?

"I won’t hurt you."

"Jimmy—"

"I swear I won’t. Come on. Before Brian comes…" he stopped. Without waiting for a response he lathered the sensitive spot behind her temple with his tongue.

She couldn’t take it anymore. It felt so right…it felt so wrong.

All’s he wanted to do was love her. Couldn’t she see?

"JIMMY! STOP!" Sheena said as a wave of passion ran through her. Her womb pulsed: a strange, sickeningly satisfying sensation. She had to get away from him. She had to stay close to him. He was so warm. He was so goddamned cold.

"Sheena, please!" he begged. As she fled, he grabbed her more roughly than he meant to and pressed her against the wall. He groped for her, and forced her lips open until she smacked him. He pursued her into the back. The bathroom door slammed in her wake. He rattled the doorknob, at which sound she yelled at him angrily, "Jimmy! Go away!"

He took a deep breath. Calmed his nerves. His lust had come as quickly as it had gone, and he felt himself drain as it poured from his body. He said evenly, "Sheena, I’m sorry I came on to you like that. I just wanna be with you so bad." Then to himself, to his shaking hands…Oh, Christ. Did I just do that? Why had I done that? Why had I

"That’s no fucking excuse for what you did, Jimmy. No fucking excuse, you have no right." She wiped her tears away. Making sure the door was locked, she undressed and climbed quickly into the shower, shivering in shock. She already assumed that the longing smile would be plastered over his goddamned face as he thought of her naked. The tears fell again as soon as the water came on. She had liked him, a lot, knowing that this would happen. What would Renee do in this situation? She wondered. (Little did she know, Renee had been put in almost the exactly same situation eleven years ago…)

"Oh, God. What would Jon do right now?" he muttered under his breath. He had obviously been close to Sheena; he’d know. Munky was lucky they all hadn’t come running to her aid. He was lucky Brian wasn’t here. He was lucky for a lot of things, yes, but not for this.

"Sheena. I can’t help it. I love you."

Sheena flew to the door—her anger propelling her—and yanked it open. She was careful to hide her naked body behind the door. Her words burned into him. "You’re a liar, Jimmy. That’s all you are. A liar. And a stupid son of a bitch. You don’t love me. You can’t love me," her voice became a high whine as she looked into his melted eyes. "You’ve only known me for two days."

Clink. Munky’s long knees buckled under him. He rested his back against the small tunnel that was their cubby hall as she finished her shower. When she came out—clothed in only a white bathrobe—he refused to look up. He watched her bare ankles as they cautiously stepped around him. He kept his head down as she headed back into the bathroom with her clothes.

"You almost done with the bathroom?" he asked as she stepped out of it again. She was dressed in a white T-shirt and boxers now. Her words were short and crisp. "Yeah. Done."

He grabbed her hand, kissed it softly before she could pull it away. Even after he’d disappeared behind the door and turned on the shower she stayed where she was, staring at the bathroom door blankly. Tears filled her eyes.

"You know, you don’t have to try and make me feel bad. This isn’t fair. You’re trying to lay the guilt trip on me when it’s not my fault at all." She hid her face in the shadows as he opened the door. She was angry, now. He was mimicking her. Except he didn’t hide his bare chest, or part of his leg. She saw how lean he was, how tall and how unbelievably tan everywhere on his body. He looked like caramel. Like a tall piece of delicious caramel. She wondered if he tasted like caramel.

Confusion burrowed a hole in her heart.

"I’m not trying to hurt you. I never would."

Chink.

Twenty minutes later, Sheena had found herself sitting on the edge of the couch, blankly watching Seinfeld as Head sat at the other end. Jon had been there, too, of course. But when Sheena had walked in he’d left. He always left like that. She knew it, and she tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn’t hear it. It was the same thing every time: he’d sit and stare at her, tears welling in his eyes, threatening to coax some from hers. Then he’d leave. The only time he could stand to be around her was in the morning, when he was too weak and tired to do anything but accept the food she prepared for him. That was it. It killed her inside, but what could be done? Nothing. The damage had already been done. So she just had to deal with Jon’s avoiding her. After all, he had every right to.

Head was busy checking out the dimensions of the Playmate of the Month. The shower was still going.

"Brian?"

He looked up to her and smiled. "What?" This month’s Playmate looked like Rebekkah; he was enjoying this.

"Munky’s been in the shower for like twenty minutes."

His gaze flew back to the magazine. It wasn’t hard to pretend to be interested in the picture he was studying. This was Munky’s; he vaguely considered the possibility that Munky could let him borrow it. Or maybe he could draw a picture of it for him to show Bekkah as a joke. Munky did that sometimes: draw the playmates. It was, in fact, his favorite pass time—just not lately. And Brian knew why; he hated it.

"Brian? Why has he been in there for so long?" Sheena’s voice was purely curious. Head looked at her, to see if she was seriously clueless. She was. He wondered just how long she’d been sitting in her apartment in front of the computer, just how long she had refused to be any part of what consumed her writing. He told her to leave it alone; she asked again, tears sparkling in her eyes. After a minute of reluctance, he told her that she didn’t wanna know. He hoped she’d draw her own conclusions. She still didn’t know. He said that if she didn’t know by now she’d never know. Her face was a picture of puzzlement.

"Think about it. He’s a guy." No change in her expression. "Never mind, then. It’s none of your business." Brian was cold; Sheena looked away as she realized why the water had been running for nearly half an hour. It didn’t take that long to wash your dreadlocks.

"About time. Have fun?" Head asked Munky as he walked into the living room.

"Just shut the fuck up for once, man, okay?" He grabbed his cigs from the table and lit one with a shaky hand. In his euphoric daze he decided that he wouldn’t let Sheena get to him, which was why he avoided a sideways glance to her as he sat in the chair adjacent to where she sat on the couch. He melted into the cushions. Cigarette tilted up and ashtray leaned on his bare stomach, he flicked his cigarette and took another draft.

Brian, unswayed by the comment, continued to flip through the magazine. An awkward silence followed wherein Sheena let out a long, mournful sigh. She contemplated leaving the room, but her pride kept her planted in the seat. She was too proud to move; if she left, he would have won this battle, even if he hadn’t won the war. That wasn’t going to happen as long as she was the great writer, Sheena Upton.

She contemplated fetching her laptop, but knew that if she tried to write it would turn out as nothing more than crap. Whenever she was having problems writing just wasn’t something she could do. Before she had started to write, she would have liked to read, but now that she was an author she found herself analyzing all the novels she read. After a while it bored her to pieces.

Just as Sheena had decided that she might grab another piece of cold fruit from the fridge, Fieldy hopped into the tour bus. He had tapes in his hand. His eyes sparkled. "Anyone wanna watch something?" Then, "Hey, where’s Jon? I thought he was here with you guys."

"He was, but he left. Anyways, what da ya got to watch?" Munky said bitterly. He almost risked a sideways glance to her, but knew it would be fatal.

After a second, Head put down the magazine and folded his hands behind his head. As awful as it may sound, he couldn’t say that he was disappointed in how things had turned out between Sheena and Munky. David had told him of the love bird’s confrontation before he left to make hotel reservations for the night. To be utterly honest, Head was fully satisfied with himself. "Sure. What do ya got?"

Fieldy regarded the tapes, squinting as if he’d read the labels for the first time. "Well, we got a porno—"

Munky let out a whoop of sarcastic laughter as the words left Fieldy’s mouth. Fieldy cocked a large, dark eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses. "You okay, man?"

Munky waved his cigarette in a wide arc around him. Small specks of ash flittered around him and landed on his bare chest. "Just peachy."

After a pause, Fieldy started again. "Well, yeah. We have the porno and then we have ‘American Pie.’ Which one?"

"It’s up to Sheena," Brian said. He watched her as she contemplated for about two seconds. She decided on ‘American Pie.’ For the next hour and a half the four of them watched the chronicles of five teenage boys making a pact to get laid on prom night. The movie had some funny parts, Sheena had to admit. But even when laughter tickled her lips, Munky’s face remained stony. When prom night arrived, Munky couldn’t stand it anymore. Staying in that living room was like being in a standoff with her, and he would have no more of it. He put out his last cigarette and meandered out of the room.

He was proud, yes. But not that proud.

He was exhausted. All the stress. He knew they were planning to stay at a hotel that night, but it wouldn’t matter if he just stayed on the tour bus, would it? They couldn’t move him, could they? He didn’t care if it were a hotel or a cubby…he was spending the night alone either way.

Another lonely night to add to the countless others. He fantasized briefly of waiting longer before making a move on her. They could have done it a million times over by now. If he had just played his cards right he could be snuggling her naked body in his arms in the very cubby he laid alone in now…

But then what? Maybe Sheena was right. Maybe he was being an asshole. He knew that just fucking her wouldn’t last forever, but he wanted to do it with her so bad it was eating him alive. He wanted to make her moan; make her love him. If there was any way he could think of to do it, it was that. He would do her so right she’d never wanna leave him. He knew it. If he could only get close to her he could show her all the love they’d both missed out on.

But the thought that haunted him as he tiptoed towards sleep was: he always did his chicks right. But they never stayed with him. There was one girl, she was beautiful, and he did her so bad that he had to peel her off the wall. She stayed with him for about six months. But then it was over. She had wanted her fucking ticket…to fame. Had gotten it under the surname of Foxy Brown—with his help.

Yep. Didn’t Sheena say that she liked Foxy?

He wasn’t dumb. He knew there was more to a relationship than sex. He had just never bothered to put that much effort into it. He was scared that by putting all that effort in he’d become attached. So attached that if he ever became unattached he wouldn’t be able to handle it. But no matter what, there was no denying that Sheena was close to him. He’d thought long and hard about why he liked her, and only ended up where he started. Usually it took a lot from him to get the attachment he’d gotten to Sheena from the first second he saw her.

For the first time in years, a girl was getting to him. He was scared shitless.

He turned on the television for a little while. "Third Rock From the Sun" was funny, but he didn’t laugh. Couldn’t.

Sheena stood outside of his cubby for a long time, just staring at the cover. She could’ve sworn that David had mentioned checking into hotel rooms, but she might have been mistaken. She didn’t know whether he’d talk to her. Or if he’d just ignore her. She had been cold to him—she realized that now. As she sat in the small cubby in the dark, she thought of things to say. But as her knuckles slightly rapped on the side of his cubby they were wiped from her mind.

He drew his curtain back. Sheena was there. Part of him was surprised; the other wanted her to go away. He couldn’t decide which impulse was most prominent. "How did the movie end?" he asked quietly, knowing that his voice was numb. It was all he could think of to say.

Her eyes rolled to the darkness, and she sighed. Looking him in the eyes again, she said softly, "Uh, they all had sex."

"Wrong question," he concluded. Swallowing uncomfortably, he climbed out of his cubby. She pressed herself into the far wall, arms across her chest. His bare toes carefully tapped against the floor.

"Is that why they call you Munky? Because of your toes. I mean, they’re kinda—weird."

"Yeah," he answered with a smile. He brought his left front leg up, and spread out his toes as if they were fingers. She let amusement shine through in her eyes as she looked at his toes, caramel, like the rest of him.

Silence. A couple uncomfortable moments wasted away in silence. He made eye contact with her—cleared his throat, as if to cue her. She glanced down the hall to make sure they were alone. And then she began to speak.

"Jimmy—"

"Sheena—"

Sigh. "Look, Jimmy. I’m really sorry. I was a bitch to you. I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that."

This answer was something Munky couldn’t handle. He’d been in that little cubby for hours, and he knew who really was to blame. "Sheena, no, it was me. I—sometimes I say and do things that are just—wrong. And I don’t know if you really believe it or not, but, like I said, I will never hurt you. I’ll die before I do."

Her eyes watered over. She looked away from him. He was suddenly seized by an impulse to hold her. But he hid it back. The last thing that he needed was for her to pull away from him. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle being rejected again. It had hurt enough this time—he didn’t want to go for the record…twice. In one night.

Ouch.

"I think we’re just both really fucked up about how we feel," he started. He placed a hand on his bare chest, and motioned from her to him as he spoke. "Because sometimes I just get these vibes from you, like this look you give me, and it just makes me want you. I can’t help it. I mean, I don’t want you—well, yeah, I do—well, no—" Sigh. "I’m just so fucking unsure of everything. I just know that sometimes I say things that I don’t really mean. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head. Wiped away a tear that she knew he saw but didn’t care. She wanted to be held. Didn’t. She changed her mind as every tear built up behind her eyes.

"I just want to find a way to show you how much I care about you. How can I do that without getting closer to you? Like, right now, for example. I know what you want—I can see it in your eyes. But you would just pull away if I gave you what you want."

She turned her head up to him and glared at him, more coldly than she’d meant to. His gaze flew toward the ground.

"How do you know what I want? How could you possibly know what I’m feeling right now?"

"I know because I’m feeling the exact same way." He walked to her, and took her into his arms. She melted into him, and sobbed against his bare skin. He ran a hand through her hair; reveled in her scent. She didn’t see the solitary tear that dampened the long sheet of silk flowing down the better part of her back.

"Jimmy."

"Sheena, can I have another chance? Can I just wipe the slate clean and have another chance? I’ve had a lot of time to think…I’m sorry for how I’ve been."

"There are other ways to love me," she said, her voice somewhat chagrin. She pulled her head from the nook in his shoulder, even though she still kept her body to his. She was secretly marveling at his strong arms. How firm they were. How the arch of his back was so natural, so soft. "I—I’m confused, too. But I know that I feel a lot for you, even though we haven’t had a good history so far."

He looked in her eyes, and she instinctively looked away, feeling nervous as his eyes bored into hers. He kissed her softly on the forehead. Tilting his nose to her forehead, he told her, his lips brushing against an eyebrow,

"Just give me another chance. Give us another chance."

For the next hour the band members were busy checking into their hotel, moving in to their rooms. When they found out that they hadn’t reserved a room for Sheena. Jon said just for the sake of it that she could stay with him and Renee (Nathan was going to stay with Fieldy tonight). His face was downcast; the words were forcing themselves out of him monotonously. She knew the words were empty. She refused and decided to stay with Brian. Munky understood whole-heartedly. He just opened the door to his hotel room regretting that he didn’t have more time to talk with her.

"Um, Brian? I’ll be back in two hours. Keep the door unlocked, k?" she said as the shower went on in the bathroom. He called back out to her, "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere" was her final answer. Her only answer.

"Okay. Whatever. You going to see Jon?"

"No. Why would I? He hates me." Why was he pressing on her like this? He knew how Jon felt about her. After a minute of consideration, she said, "I’m gonna meet Jimmy across the street at the diner." His sigh was so loud that she heard it from the other room.

"Fine. But if you’re not back in two hours…Never mind. Just go. And Jon doesn’t hate you."

"Yeah, he does. Don’t try to tell me any different."

"No, he really doesn’t Sheena. Believe me."

"Fine, whatever. You’re right and I’m wrong," she cried, exasperated.

"You know it."

Sheena felt like she was talking to her father whenever she talked to Brian. It wasn’t like Sheena didn’t know what she was getting into with Munky; she’d seen Munky during his lowest moments. Or so she thought. She stood in front of the mirror, and decided that she needed to run a comb through her hair…maybe even wear a more complimenting pair of pants than the ones she did now, which made her legs look more stickly than they really were. She sighed as she realized she hadn’t examined herself like this for months…maybe even years. She hadn’t looked in the mirror in the longest time. Now that she did, it was amazing to her that Munky could find her attractive. She was too skinny, her tits were too small, and her eyes were somewhat sunken. She looked sick.

(Like Jon)

How could Munky ever find her worth anything at all?

"Munky? Jimmy? You in there?"

He opened the door to her in his boxers, his dreadlocks more rumpled than usual. He had pillow creases on his cheek…he’d been sleeping! Before she could apologize, however, he was wide-awake. Dressed and ready to go to where she wanted to.

Sally’s Diner was as old fashioned as its name. A portly waitress with deep freckles and wild ass red hair took their order and gave them a seat in the corner of the restaurant. He let her sit, and then he settled in himself. He looked around at the others in the restaurant: one old woman having a coffee, another couple holding hands and snuggling together as they shared a hotdog about ten feet away. He thought that he wouldn’t get mobbed here—he really wanted to talk to Sheena, with no interruptions—and so pulled back his sweatshirt to reveal his dreads. He removed his Ray Bans and let them rest on the table by a wrapped fork and spoon.

This café reminded Munky of one he’d gone to every morning to get cigarettes and a western omelet from the time he was ten until he’d had enough of Bako and moved out. It had been old-fashioned, even back then, with red cushion seats and tubes of fluorescence running like small snakes along the windows and seats. There was even a small, personal jukebox. The two lovers on the other side of the section had requested "I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You" by Savage Garden. It flittered to their jukebox. And played softly.

So, Sheena had come to get him. She looked quite shy right now, with her arms folded across her chest. She was uncomfortable; he could see it in the way she watched the jukebox as it sang for them shamelessly. He wished she would uncross her arms, wished she would gaze into his eyes. Softly, he lifted her chin level to his from across the table. Shaking from him, she continued to stare at the floor.

"Look at me. You’re beautiful," Munky insisted softly. Sheena looked up hesitantly, to see his sparkling eyes as they tilted down to meet her gaze. She knew the crimson flooded her cheeks. Knew she looked like a schoolgirl. She couldn’t help it: that was the sad part.

"Do you folks want anything to eat tonight? Or something to drink?" asked the waitress.

Munky didn’t know. He asked Sheena if she wanted anything. When she declined, he ordered a side order of onion rings and two glasses of their best champagne. The waitress nodded indignantly and lumbered away. He turned back to Sheena after she’d left. Sheena had given up looking at the floor, and was now gazing nervously at a napkin she picked at. With a quick glance up to him, she asked, "Two glasses of champagne?"

"Yep. One for you and one for me."

She shook her head. "I don’t drink."

"I know."

Silence. He opened his mouth to speak again. The question had been burning him like a pail of hot water. "Why did you come to get me? I’m glad you did, don’t get me wrong, but why?"

It took her a minute to answer as she tore the napkin to bits. "I just like being around you." She didn’t see his smile, her head still down.

With a glance toward the exiting couple now in each other’s arms, hands clasped together, he moved from his spot to settle in beside her. "Look at me," he said again softly. He tilted her head toward his. He couldn’t stand her glancing away any longer. He wanted to get to know her, and how could he if she wouldn’t even look at him? They say the eyes were the keys to the soul, but eye contact also helped in a conversation. This, in a crude sense, was their first date. Even though he knew more about her and her more about him than most would after ten.

She finally tilted her head to his. The sorrow that seeped from her large, green eyes made him start. She looked tired and worn, old, almost. He had seen her so beautiful that first time, but more and more now she seemed to be aging, right before his eyes, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He didn’t like it, but what could be done? He wished he could make her laugh. Wished he had a sense of humor like Head’s, a sense of humor that could erase her pain.

The silence that followed seemed like an hour to Munky as Sheena’s foreboding gazes finally melted into his. He could see in an instant the longing she could not hide as they met minds. Her soul bared itself to him.

It touched every part of him. He saw the sadness in her, the age. The weakness and intimidation she felt from him whenever she was around him. She had seen many good times, yes, but there had also been several burdens. Her lip trembled slightly as she exhaled. Her warm breath was a caress against his face as it flittered past. In her it was easy to see the potential she had to love. But above all was the fear. My god, the fear that made her pupils constrict and her eyes fill. That overwhelming fear from a place within he had never even guessed at.

The rush of feelings coursing through him broke his own gaze. Silently and still holding her hand, he resumed his spot across from her. He wouldn’t let her wonderful smell get to him again.

It was somehow easier for Sheena to look at him now, though, he noticed. By the time their champagne and onion rings had come, the torn up piece of napkin was far less interesting. She cocked her elbow and rested her head at its nook. Her smile was endearing and dreamy.

Her beauty took him.

"You still have your cross," she noticed. It hung from his neck a few inches below the collar of his Puma T-shirt.

"Yeah. You know, it was really nice of you to help me find it."

She waved it away. "No problem." She was tracing her fingertip on the lip of the champagne glass she hadn’t sipped.

"No, really. I haven’t taken this thing off since I was five." He watched her as she made eye contact with him to test the validity of the comment. He told her then that it had fallen off, yes, but he’d always found it. He finished by saying that it’s his most prized possession. When she asked him why he still had her cheap, ball-chain necklace to hold it on he grinned and answered,

"I kept it because you gave it to me. And I like you."

After a pause, she proceeded after a quick look out the window. The lights were bright tonight, lining the entire street. She looked at the people walking placidly past and wondered for a fleeting moment if she’d have fallen in love with him that night as she walked past on the other side of the window…was shaken out of her thoughts as she thought of something to say. The silence between them was deafening. It always allowed for the energy between them to conduct better.

"Tell me about yourself," she said, and watched him in amusement as he bit his lip and thought about what to say. Looking slightly past her, he started to speak. Sheena felt like she was reading a love ad. "Well, my name’s Jimmy Shaffer. Which you probably know by now…"

"Yes…" she said, and laughed, urging him on. He looked so cute when he was thinking. A thin smile pressed his lips as he continued. He was drunk on how happy she seemed now.

"I’m 22, I’m a Gemini…um…I play the guitar for a living…um…and I enjoy drawing in my spare time. For a date I like to go out and lie under the stars." She saw the stars shining in his eyes, and that was partially because they were shining in hers, too.

"Your turn."

She sipped her champagne. Ignored the satisfied look on his face. She accused him of trying to get her drunk, and only realized how cold she must have seemed as he started and looked at her uncomfortably. He stayed that way until she burst out laughing. He joined in, too, eventually, after she’d convinced him.

"Well, my name is Sheena Upton. I’m an author. I’m 24, 5’8’’, 105 pounds. I like to watch movies in my free time and…." She shrugged. "I kinda got a toe fetish. Now what did you say about going to see the stars?" she finished lightly as he looked at her lovingly. She saw from the corner of her eye his large hand venturing towards her. A few exaggerated taps of his pointer finger asked permission for her touch. She accepted by folding her hand within his. This satisfied him more than what showed in his face.

The night was beautiful as they crossed the street again to head back to their hotel rooms. Munky had insisted that no stars would show up against the smoggy New York sky, but he had been dead wrong. They showed down upon them as they pranced onto the sidewalk and away from the swirling cars. Together, they meandered through the reception area.

It was an extremely fancy, upper-class hotel. People in business suits watched them somewhat enviously as Munky held Sheena while they lugged around their suitcases. Inside the elevator she accepted his embrace. Resting his head against the back of the elevator, he thought about how he’d always hated elevators. They were white and blank. Bare. He always felt suffocated by it. By the music. By the old lady that always insists on coming in right before the doors closed. But this time it was different. His heart was on fire, there were swirling colors everywhere, and the elevator music could have been Marilyn Manson for all he cared.

The elevator trip itself had always taken forever, especially lately, as he went to the top floor to rest in hotels. This trip lasted for only a second.

It was somewhat easy to entertain the notion that he and Sheena were headed to his room to spend the night. Reality, however, came crashing down as soon as they stood near the so-alike doors. He stood outside of hers and took her hand. Kissed it.

"I’m very happy you came for me."

"I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I hadn’t. Our talk had been too important just to let it rest at that."

He sighed, and ran a hand through her hair as she came to him again. Her forehead nuzzled his chin. "I know."

Her head tilted until it was adjacent to his own. He felt heat within, knew it was now burning within her. With her eyes she pleaded for a kiss. If he just lowered his lips onto hers, she wouldn’t struggle. She was ready for it.

But with a sudden shock that somehow extinguished that heat that he could have never ignored otherwise, he wasn’t ready. He wanted to—oh God, did he want to—but he just couldn’t. His lip trembled. A long, billowy, sweet sigh radiated from him and flowed on her like a warm spring breeze after a frigid winter.

"Goodnight," he told her as he turned away. She watched him as he unlocked his own door. Before stepping inside, they exchanged another smile. Before she knew it, he was gone.

And he was alone. Again.