chance encounters

“Oh, god... no... I should’ve, it might be hard to believe but, I’ve had a lot of female attention over the years. I’m just not really interested, but Sawyer’s certainly not opposed to it, I don’t know if he really likes them though, or just the attention. In the end it’s all the same either way I suppose.” He headed for the door, holding it open for Simon. There was a lot open to him, so much of the city to explore in such a short time, though chances were he’d come back, sooner than he probably initially intended. Best to leave a good first impression, “Impress me, I’m fine going to some real dives- but I want to go to the best of them. Where do your sort hang? I want a genuine view of London, the Queen can keep her fuckin’ crackerbox palace. And if that involves getting wanked at a swanky bar, even better.”

“Well this one’s a fun game,” she smiled, eyes dazed, “We all... sit in a circle, like this, annnnd think about something... or some/one/ you really really want, the person cross from you tries to guess what that is, and if you realllllllly want it, you try to get it, of course, not without offering something else up first. It’s easier to do on acid, opens your mind and spirit, untethers you to... material limitations.”  Sawyer looked unsure but continued, waiting to see exactly what would happen. It looked like a seance, the candles and offerings in the center, the others eerily focused. There were a few photographs as well, someone evidently hot and heavy to fuck Jim Morrison’s ghost. Well... hope sprang eternal.  “What would you want?” He couldn’t think of anything- “More than anything else.” Well...

“Si-mon,” Sawyer sang, “So pleased to meet you. I’d love one.” Webster bristled slightly, waiting for the other to disappear, but noting this, it was unlikely he would less he show him out by force. Clearly there was something here, and Sawyer was like a cat with its prey. Not cruelly of course, just enough to tease the other into action. So he’d made himself a friend, how lovely. It was hard to help his tendencies, a tireless self promoter, slut for attention. Webster edged his way in before Simon actually poured him a drink. “Shouldn’t you be selling merchandise or something?” he shot him a venomous look, “I’ll handle this.” Sawyer’s eyebrows merely shot up into his hairline, amused, but swanned off without another word, Webster glaring, hackles raised. He’d steal anything and anyone that wasn’t nailed down. “Sorry, about him.... Are you still offering that drink?” he sat down heavily, pushing his sweaty curls from his face. “Thanks for coming. Extort any friends into padding the audience?”

The shaggy bat-punk to the side hadn’t taken his eyes off them all night, and Sawyer made a special note to pay their fan a visit after the show. Highest and best use of his time, given his usual status as lowest common denominator was handed off to their lovely lady guitarist for the evening given the clientele of the part time rock club full time lesbian bar. Webster was a second slow, trying not to draw attention to himself, by the time the other had already made it to Simon’s table, introducing himself with an open hand and a massive smile. When Webster caught up, Sawyer fully noticed, and relaxed his forward posture, very friendly very American grin slowly replaced with a knowing look, too late for him to back off or pretend he was headed somewhere else.  “So are you a fan of the band or is this just our lucky night?” Sawyer noted the bottle, Webster looking everywhere else around the room.  

“That’s fine it sort of suits you, all, this,” he gestured. “I’ve been good- we git another album coming out we’re on tour for ri’ now- Ganymede, like all the others the UK versions it’s got nudie pics ‘n the US release has a kitschy painting on the front, count yourself lucky.”  He probably hadn’t mentioned his brother being a model, or the fact they were identical twins- Simon could just pretend it was him on the cover, it might as well have been. There shouldn’t have been anything keeping him from doing it as well given a number of people assumed it was him in those photos anyways. Unlike Sawyer however, he was a little shyer around a camera and that sort of elegant charisma didn’t come so naturally. The only thing setting them apart really was that confidence. Not to say Webster couldn’t clean up nicely.  “Uh Pandora’s Box, the um, yeah. Sure. Thanks. I’d like that...” He nodded and looked towards the light growing at the end of the tunnel. “Guess this is your ride. I’ll see you then.”

“There’s no wrong choice miss, it’s all good, you have my guarantee,” he gave her a wicked grin.  Sawyer watched her hesitantly, waiting for the drugs to start to kick in, beginning to feel some slight regret. A few more kids came up behind them, jostling to get their share, or seconds, laughing and jeering. David gave him a look again expecting something. “So? Ready to really join the party?”

“Actually it’s Saw- no I’m playing with you it’s Webster, hi. Oh my gosh how have you been? You look like shit!” he chimed, disgustingly cheerful. Obviously he hadn’t been in London very long or somebody would have fixed that for him. “We’re here for a tour, jus a lil one, pop around Europe til we run out of cash and slink back to the Colonies with our tails between our legs. Actually playing tonight, if you’d like to come and rate my performance.”He cocked his chin up as he said this, smug smile on his face. An invitation.  “If you mean what I’m doing in a crowded subway station that smells like wet dogs and piss, following you. I was just out to pick up some posters from the printer to put around- here, take some make yourself useful,” he shoved a bundle of pink papers into Simon’s arms. 

When they met again, it wasn’t intentional, a few days in Los Angeles had come and went, passing out of each others lives after that night predictably so. When the band found themselves in England Webster’d nearly forgotten about that tryst cast amongst the others, but when part of him recognized Simon on the street, it was electric- a funny fuzzy feeling beginning in the back of his head and spreading through to the rest of his body with a surprised jolt. “Hey- Hey!” he called out waving an arm, pushing his way along the pavement. “Hey you deaf bastard, I’m tryin’ to get your attention!”  Webster chased Simon, or someone who looked just like him, it happened, it happened an awful lot to himself in particular even when you thought you were a truly memorable one of a kind sort of individual. Hopefully it was him, or else whoever he was hunting through the crowded London streets, cornering him in the underground in a burst  of speed, probably would have called the cops on this crazed American. “I said hey.”