“All right,” Doc Filth says to me, loud enough for him to hear me over the moaning and wailing cry of the guitars settling mournfully into us from the frayed black speakers over our heads on Sunday Social Distortion Night at the Spot. “Most badass moments in rock n roll. Let’s go, let’s make a list.”
“Easy,”says Kurt Vance, who we somehow persuaded to join us tonight. “Ozzy bites the head off a dove. How can you beat that?”
“Elvis’s censored hips, John Lennon saying the Beatles are bigger than Jesus, I don’t know, a million different ways,” Doc Filth answers, sounding tired. He pulls a cigarette from his pack and lights it. “Come on now, don’t make me diss anyone in Black Sabbath.”
“He wasn’t in Black Sabbath then,” I offer.
“Yeah, but he had been. That’s enough to make up for a lot of things,” he tells me, throwing back the rest of his pitcher and refills. “Story of My Life” lurches to my life in the Juke and the Doc drums his hands on the table. “Don’t forget about this one, suckers. Nikki Sixx overdoses and dies,” Dr. Filth says definitively. “Then rises from the dead and immediately shoots up again. How do you top that for staring down death? You can’t!”
“Vince Neil kills the guy from Saigon Kick,” Kurt answers.
“It was Hanoi Rocks,” Dr. Filth corrects him with disappointment burning through his voice.
“No, it was Saigon Kick,” I maintain.
“No way,” Kurt grunts angrily. “It was Hanoi Rocks. Saigon Kick had that song ‘Love Will Find a Way.’ Hanoi Rocks were the guys that wanted to be bigger than Abba.” He finishes his beer, slams the pint glass down on the table, licks his lips emphatically, and says, “Besides, nothing touches Duff’s opening bass riff on ‘It’s So Easy.’”
“‘Appetite for Destruction’ as a whole,” I amend.
“All right,” Doc Filth says, as if he is about to drop a bomb on us. “James Hetfield sets himself on fire, and almost prevents the entire Metallica-suck era.” He finishes his own pint, refills it, and flags down the bartender for another. “This game is boring. I’m done,” he says as he pays for the pitcher and tops us off. “Another State of Mind” booms through the speakers. He turns to me as he lights another cigarette. “What’s going on with that Alicia girl? Have you humped her yet?”
My face turns the color of ketchup. “No,” I spit. “Not yet.”
“Have you done anything?” Kurt pushes.
“No, I haven’t done anything,” I snap.
“What?” he cries. “You spent the whole day with her yesterday. You spent an hour in your room with the stereo on and the door closed, and you have the nerve to say that nothing happened?”
I look away in shame.
“Chloe and I thought for sure you were doing the deed,” Kurt continues. “How can you sit there in front of God and all of us and tell me that nothing happened?”
“I was giving her a back massage,” I admit weakly.
“A back massage?!” he cries. “A fucking back massage! Let me fill you in on something. When they are in your room with the door closed, with the radio on, I’m assuming on your bed, and you are giving them a fucking back massage, it means she wants something to happen!”
“She fell asleep. When she woke up, she needed to go because she had to get up early today,” I offer limply.
“Did you at least kiss her goodbye?” Kurt asks, offering me a tiny out.
“No,” I say, looking away.
“I knew it,” Doc Filth says. “You really are gay.”
“Look,” I say. “I just kind of froze when the moment arrived. I went to move, and I couldn’t.”
“Not good enough,” Filth says, still not able to look at me.
“You need to do something,” Kurt advises. “You need to do something soon or she will think you aren’t interested.”
“Or gay,” Doc Filth adds.
“Or gay,” Kurt agrees. He grabs my hand. “Promise me you are going to make a move,” he says. “Promise me. If you are having a hard time, just get drunk with her, loosen your inhibitions. You know how to do that. You do it most nights of the week. Just this time, instead of yelling at cops, kiss the girl.”
“Fine,” I say, yanking my hand away. “I’ll do it. I’ll do something, I promise.”
The song changes to “Telling Them,” and Dr. Filth stubs out his cigarette to make room for another one. “How did breakfast with Zoe go yesterday?” he asks.
“Please tell me you at least humped Zoe,” Kurt says.
“Why are you so interested in who I’ve humped?” I ask.
“Because it happens so rarely,” he says. “I want to see you happy, Rubin, that’s all. Humping makes a person happy, and I haven’t gotten to see you happy since... well, since you and Zoe broke up.”
“That wasn’t because of humping,” I counter. “That was because we were breaking up.”
“Whatever,” Doc Filth scoffs. “You were fucking miserable. I’ve never seen someone get treated so badly and still moan and wail when you get left behind. You should have been as happy as you are pretending to be when you guys broke up.”
“Anyway,” Kurt interrupts. “Did you hump Zoe?”
“No.”
“Why not?! Don’t tell me you couldn’t!” Kurt cries.
“Oh, I definitely could have,” I say. “The whole reason she wanted to have breakfast was to tell me how much she hates being engaged and how much she misses me.”
“And you did nothing,” Filth spits.
“What was I supposed to do, huh? Take her home? Fuck her? Tell her I still love her? Get back together with her? Sit around as she tells me how much she loves me while she fucks other guys?”
“No, dude,” Filth says. “Take her home and fuck her. She was clearly there for that reason. You are bordering a fourth or fifth virginity. Where is the question? You should be calling her right now. Why aren’t you?”
“Because she makes me miserable.”
“But for an hour or so she’ll make you happy. That is all you need—just an hour or so.”
“You are denying the unavoidable rest of my hypothesis,” I say, finishing my beer.
“So resolve yourself not to be pathetic for once in your life,” Kurt says with a pat on my back. “Just this once, for me.”
“You’re so encouraging,” I grumble.
“Someone has to be,” he answers.
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