CHAPTER ONE
"I'm never going to know you now, but I'm going to love you any how" - Elliott Smith
And as these things usually do, the four of them ended up at an after hours hostess bar in the seedier outskirts of Korea Town. Fallon's suit was a bit more wrinkled than when they'd started out, he'd loosened his tie, and he had a two day growth of beard giving him what he liked to think of as his scruffy but dangerous look Overall, he seemed like a guy looking for a lamppost to lean against. Straw looked like he was a fortnight into a weekend bender, and as if he'd recently spent a good twenty minutes crawling around in bushes barking like a dog, because ... well, he'd recently spent twenty minutes crawling around in bushes barking like a dog.
Naomi, the taller of the two girls was still lovely, in that careless scattered way, her dyed black hair falling becomingly across her eyebrow, while Rose, the short blond girl in the torn stockings and dirty black Ramones' T-shirt (dirty from the bush crawling), was almost as bleary-eyed as Straw, who kept looking at his empty brandy snifter and wondering what the fuck happened to all the Armagnac. both girls were only twenty, and had only gone to the art gallery because someone told them there was a good chance of not being carded. That was Friday night. Now it was Sunday ... or was it Monday ... morning.
Rose was giving Naomi that, "LET'S GO!" look, but Naomi's eyes were glued to Fallon's strikingly pale blue eyes, as they surreptitiously held hands under the table like couple of high school sweethearts.
They were sharing the booth with two Thai "hostesses," one of whom was sound asleep while the other stirred her cola with the bored detachment of a mercenary who was getting paid whatever happened.
Straw glanced away from his empty glass at Fallon, and knew his friend was "falling in love" again. Fallon was always falling in love, at a glance, a smile, a kiss. For his part, Straw, who lacked Fallon's more romantic inclinations, was more miserly with his emotions, and didn't throw them around, as Fallon did, like a drunk at Mardi Gras. Of course, what Fallon and Straw meant by love were quite different, and to be fair of the two, he had less opportunities for "love." Fallon was the opposite, people he'd never met thought they'd known him all their lives. While Straw was happy to find a nice stool at a bar where he could glower into his drink, occasionally looking up at other patrons, and possibly making a few drawings in his Moleskine sketchbook, to Fallon, drinking was only a secondary pursuit, which was why Straw usually had three drinks to any one his friend consumed, but that was only fair, since Straw was usually paying.
Fallon affected an easy charm which was false only in the confidence it pretended. While Straw preferred to find a seat at a bar and stick to it, except for frequent sojourns outside to smoke American Spirit cigarettes, Fallon was more comfortable standing, leaning against the bar with practiced insouciance, if only to emphasis his height.
As stated earlier, Fallon usually had more opportunity for romantic entanglements, though in equal fairness it had to be noted, when it happened, Straw was better at "closing the deal," which was why he was working on his second divorce. Fallon let his emotions get all tangled up in things, mistaking what could only be called a brief interlude with the end of the world. He called it love, but really, it was a desire for love more than the real thing. Straw likened him to a teenage girl with a crush, which was an apt description, but what he really loved was the beauty and the sadness, the romance, the poetry, the wanting and being wanted.
For his part, Straw just wanted to get down and dirty, not because he didn't feel things as deeply, but rather, just the opposite, he placed more value on his emotions, and didn't waste them on every girl with father issues he met at a bar or a gallery. He knew, when these things occurred, what he was after, unlike Fallon, who was always looking for love, when in truth, what he really needed was to fuck.
And now, at this after hours hostess bar in the seedier outskirts of Korea Town, Straw knew full well Rose had no real interest in him, though she seemed to like the brandy, just as his interest in her were strictly recreational. Naomi, on the other hand, was clearly dealing with serious father issues, and in as much danger of mistaking what was just another lost weekend with the romance of a lifetime. Fallon really did have beautiful eyes.
So, eyeing Fallon's untouched brandy with avaricious intent, he reached for his wallet and slipped out a credit card, ordered two more drinks, then ordered one for Rose as well, vaguely remembering the enjoyable experience of crawling around in the bushes barking like a dog, and figuring one more drink couldn't hurt, or two for that matter.
