x_cinnamongirl_x

Carnivore by Carnivore

“Oh my god you bitch! You’re seeing him again?” your sister Angie bombarded you over the phone after you told her you’d be on Stern with Steele.

“Yes, I just got confirmation from Larry, who arranged this whole thing, that he has agreed to go on Stern with me to “clear the air”. So I was calling to ask you if you could get work off and would want to-” you were cut off by her shrieking, relieved a little that she didn’t catch your minor white lie.

“Oh my god yes, yes. I will absolutely get work off. When?”

“Next Tuesday is when they were able to rearrange some things to squeeze us in. But I have to get there by 5 to be on around 7 so it will be an early one. You’ll have to stay at least the night before in the city with me.”

“Oh my god. That is no problem. I will get Sara Beth to cover me. Oh my god. This is so amazing. I can’t wait to tell Danny, he’ll have to take care of the dog anyway. Wait, I have to call Sara Beth and find coverage and do some laundry. I’ll call you back, ok? We can get room service!”

“Yeah, talk to you later, bye.” she hung up on you before you finished your sentence. 

That went well. You went from forgetful sister to sister of the year in one call. You wondered if you should warn Peter about Angie, but thought it would be funnier to just let her loose. You’re sure he was used to it. You hadn’t mentioned the coffee to her, worried it could somehow complicate things even further. 

Angie was a hairdresser and really good at it too. Not only was she great at the cosmetology aspect but she was confident and friendly and a great salesperson. She had been a metalhead since high school, much to your traditional Catholic parent’s dismay, getting into Metallica and then finding more and more bands to follow around until she met Danny who reigned her in a little bit. Danny had been a drummer in some local bands but now was a math teacher at the hometown high school.

___

Tuesday finally came and it was too early. Your call time for the morning radio show, which was filmed apparently so you had to look presentable as well, was early even for you. Luckily you had your stylist throw together some “effortless” looks for you, you ended up in a pleated mini skirt with a tight striped cardigan, sheer tights and platform mary janes. It kind of put you out of your comfort zone but the purpose was to look “appealing” and that outfit certainly did the trick. 

Angie was another story. She kept you up late most of the night asking questions about Peter and the show and what to expect. She then got up earlier than you to loudly get herself ready and take up the bathroom all morning. It felt just like high school again, kind of fun and nostalgic, mostly annoying. 

Julian had taken you both out to dinner at a new place where he knew the chef. It was the kind of place where most of the food was reimagined versions of other food, like the salmon was actually watermelon made to look like salmon and the ice cream sundae was actually mashed potatoes and gravy meant to look like an ice cream sundae, very trendy. It was the kind of thing that Julian was into, but you and Angie, not so much. 

This was his attempt to impress you both so you pretended like you were enjoying it, while Angie did her best to chew and swallow her meal and any outbursts that could come from her interactions with Julian. Angie was not Julian’s biggest fan and this was sure to be more fodder for the file she kept in her head labeled “DUMP HIM” where she mentally stored every single way he has ever let you down for the singular purpose of never letting you forget it.

Afterward you and Angie ordered trays of food from room service and joked about what our mom would say about what we were eating. 

But the two of you made it there. While you had your own team prepping you in the green room, she was trying not to fall asleep and ruin her make up. When you were finally ready you asked if she wanted to go and meet Pete. She was determined to play it cool. 

She suggested you surprise him with coffee and you pretended you didn’t know how he liked it (two creams, three sugars). You stopped at the cart in the hall to grab three coffees and you made sure to get an extra handful of cream and sugars “just in case”. 

You found his room a little ways down the hall and his door was open. You knocked lightly on the door as best as you could with your overfull hands before poking your head in. He was resting on the shabby couch with his head on the lap of an admittedly stunning redheaded woman with his long legs hanging over the armrest of the other end. She looked pissed to have people coming by and disturbing him. 

She was perfectly made up, with long, shiny hair, and looked every bit the it girl or model. You stood there awkwardly, suddenly aware you'd barged into their morning, and hated the shooting stab of jealousy that you got from looking at her.

“Oh shit! So sorry! The door was open so I was just going to say hi. We can come ba-” You stage whispered to her. Pete started awake with a slight gasp. He looked around the room and saw you peering in the door with your hands full. 

“Oh hey, come in, come in, please. I was just resting a little.” He said, sitting up and running his hand over his face. “This is my girlfriend Melissa.” he said, putting an arm around her. She smiled a brief half smile that didn’t touch her eyes and mumbled a terse “hi”. Peter had not mentioned having a girlfriend. 

“Oh hi, I’m Nora..” You stood awkwardly with your full hands and looked at the two of them for a moment.

“And we brought you coffee, as a thank you for doing all this.” Angie asserted and as soon as she said it you realized there wouldn’t be enough for Melissa. 

“Oh sorry, I didn’t know that um, well you can have mine I haven’t drank any of it yet or anything.” you muttered

The creamers and sugars clattered out from your hands onto the coffee table and you tried to hand the coffees to them. Peter took his graciously and started gathering his accouterments while Melissa informed you she “doesn’t drink that stuff because it stains your teeth” in a Brooklyn accent that matched his. It took you a moment to recover before you remembered your purpose for the visit.

“Oh, um, Peter, this is my sister Angie, she is a huge fan. We were wondering if you’d sign her CDs.” As the words came out of your mouth you felt like an embarrassing fangirl yourself. You couldn’t be more relieved that she had left the playgirl at home, not that you thought he would turn it away. This was not really going how you expected it. Peter’s charm immediately turned on and you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Angie, good to meet you.” He said as he stood up and shook her hand making very intense eye contact with her. “I’m happy to sign anything you want, you just have to answer a question for me.” 

Angie’s pale Irish skin had taken on a shade of crimson I hadn’t seen since the summer she forgot to reapply her tanning lotion at the family reunion. “What do you want to know?” she managed to flirt back blatantly in front of his girlfriend. This was her only chance, you supposed.

“Nora told me your dad would make her do pushups before she was allowed to play Elanor Rigby on the piano. Is that true?” he asked with genuine curiosity as he grabbed a black marker off a table nearby. 

“She told you that? Yes that’s true, it’s still a house rule at our parents’ if anyone wants to play Elanor Rigby they have to do 20 pushups.” She laughed, Peter did too, boisterously, as he signed her CDs. “It hasn’t been enforced in awhile, though. I don’t remember that coming up on Letterman.”

You couldn’t help panicking internally and did your best to make eye contact with him to make something up and hoped his girlfriend wouldn’t catch on either. You had no idea what he’d told her or whether she knew about the coffee. 

“Oh, uh she mentioned it in the green room before the show.” He said surprisingly convincingly, like it wasn’t the first time he’s had to come up with a quick lie in the past to soothe a sticky situation. 

After that, some of the tension in the room broke and we were all able to shoot the shit a little more breezily. Melissa didn’t say much though. Maybe she was just tired and you hadn’t actually offended her by coming in to have some CDs signed. Angie had calmed down some and was on a roll chatting effervescently with Peter, as naturally as if he was just some guy in the local metal scene. 

“How are you feeling about the show?” he asked, directing his attention to you.

“Uh… tired,” you laughed. “Mostly ready to just put this whole thing behind me so I can focus on my actual job.”

“Oh yes, exactly what a non “uptight prig” would say.” your sister butted in.

“Oh, thanks Angie, very helpful input.” you said sarcastically.

“Sorry, I just meant, as to like, bring awareness, since you're trying not to act like that or whatever.” she mumbled.

“Hey, you’ll do great. Just relax a little” Pete intervened squeezing your shoulder, Melissa rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, you’re right.” you said, fighting the urge to chew on your pinky nail, embarrassed they had to witness that sisterly tiff.

“No problem at all, I got five sisters. If I don’t have women bickering around me I’m honestly more unsettled than when I do.” he said trying to be reassuring. You laughed but Angie knew to reign it back in.

You and Peter were given your 5 minute warning before you went on. You walked Angie back to your greenroom and watched the monitor, quickly checking yourself in the mirror while you waited to be called in. 

“Everyone, up next, we have some special guests on today to clear the air here about some uhhhh, miscommunication here, if you will.” Howard Stern said into the studio mic his eyes barely visible behind his dark sunglasses and shaggy hair. “Make sure you are tuned in after this break to find out who.”

He was the charismatic, curly headed shock jock who had continued this unwanted negative press. You were more than ready to move on, but first you had to prove him wrong, you weren’t uptight. You could be plenty of fun, even at seven in the morning after being awake for hours and getting no sleep.

You and Peter were led to your respective seats to be touched up and lit in a matter of a few minutes while the ads aired. You discreetly made sure your skirt had ridden up to expose more of the meat of your thighs than you would normally. Unsure whether the cameras would pick it up since you were seated at a studio desk, but you thought it might help keep you in character as someone relaxed and sexy.

 The ‘ON AIR’ light flashed again as the break ended and the producer counted down to being back on.

“A while ago on this show, I made a crack about actress Nora Byrne. Called her an ‘uptight prig’,” Stern said matter of factly into the mic, “and Peter Steele here immediately shut me down and defended her. So today they’ve come together, very classy, to clear the air and show the public there’s no bad blood. Nora Byrne, Peter Steele. Thanks for being here.”

“Thanks for having us on here, to uh, clear the air.” you said breezily.

“Yeah, happy to be back.” Peter said.

“Before we kick this off… Nora, I owe you an apology. Last time Pete was here, I called you an uptight prig. Yeah, yeah, I know, and he basically told me I was full of crap. So, here it is: I’m sorry. I misread you.” Stern said with only the slightest tinge of insincerity. You guessed it was as good as it could get. 

“Aww, Howard I appreciate you saying that.” you said sweetly “And I want to apologize to you for calling you an old creep.”

Stern laughed, surprised, “I didn’t know you called me that...”

“Well, yeah I didn’t broadcast it for national syndication.” You said with a smirk. 

“Well, it sounds like we’re even then.” He said wryly, “What about you and Steele after your physical altercation on Letterman? You’re clearly not one to get on the wrong side of.”

“Listen,” Peter said,” We’re good. Honestly, Nora is a professional actor and I’m a professional chump. I couldn’t help pushing her buttons and so I was put in my place. Honestly, I probably deserved worse.”

“Pete, I’m sorry too, I don’t usually resort to physical violence live on national television.” You laughed and so did everyone else in the studio. 

 “This is beautiful. Look at this: peace in our time.” Stern said with a laugh. “And, of course I must extend my congratulations to you, Nora, on your Oscar nom. Nothing to sniff at this early in your career.”

“Well, honestly, I’m just honored that I was even nominated.” You said, probably the most honest things you had said in one of these interviews. You were still trying to piece together what you did to be living your dreams.

“Now, Miss Byrne, I think the only thing more shocking than your assault on Mr. Steele was your knowledge of the Type O Negative discography. Are you a closet metalhead?” Stern asked. 

 “That is a very good question.” You rolled your eyes. “I am not, but my sister Angie is and she is a very big Type O fan. She came today to support me and more importantly get her CD signed.”

“Nora, if you want me to sign your CD, you don’t have to get your sister to ask for you, you can just ask me. I’ll sign whatever you want.” Peter smirked. 

“Oh wow, thanks for clearing that up, next time I’ll bring my playgirl." you said and the guys laughed.

“Actually, Peter I have mine right here, could you sign it for me?” Stern joked. 

“Of course Howard, anything for you.” Peter winked. 

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, Nora, I wanted to ask if you’ve listened to any of Peter’s earlier work, with his other bands?”

“Howard, I can confidently say that I have not.” you replied with a shit eating grin.

“Oh, I was hoping you would say that, because I was wondering if you would play a little game with us. I want to play you a song by his band Carnivore,” you could see Peter wince a little out of the corner of your eye as Stern revealed his game. “And have you, uh give us your analytical take as you listen.”

“Sounds like fun, I’m game.” You said with an eyebrow arched, you had no idea what they would play for you but you were eager to play along and get his approval. Peter ran his hand through his hair, suddenly appearing to lose his cool. 

“Now people, Carnivore is not for the faint of heart. We won't even be able to play the song for you on the radio, so Nora, you’re going to have to be really descriptive, for our audience’s enjoyment.” Stern encouraged.

A production assistant handed you a set of chunky headphones which you placed over your ears snuggly.

“Oooh, Sony, fancy.” you said distractedly acknowledging the portable disk player, making the guys chuckle.

“Yeah, be careful with that thing, it costs a fortune.” Stern said and you pretended you couldn’t hear him, earning another chuckle from the guys. 

“Ok, Nora, the song we are playing for you is called Carnivore and it’s by the band Carnivore, off their debut album, you guessed it, Carnivore.” Stern explained, Peter was glancing toward the exit signs in the room.

“Wow, very original” you quipped. Peter rolled his eyes

You pressed play on the portable player. The headphones immediately blared loud, heavy, doomy riffs with taunting drums, causing you to jump at the sudden sound so early in the morning, you moved quickly to switch the volume down with the little dial. The guys laughed at your expense and you couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself. 

“Certainly wouldn’t be my first choice to listen to first thing in the morning.” you admitted. “No offense, Pete.” 

“None taken, wouldn’t be mine either.” Peter replied in his sardonic way. 

Greetings and felicitations Children of technology!

“Well, the narrator here seems incredibly polite and cordial.” you said sarcastically, expecting the worst, "He's giving a very polite introduction for those in the audience. Peter, is that you singing I assume?”

“Guilty.” Peter said with a goofy grin. He had his hand covering his mouth, keeping his eyes fixed on your face to watch your reaction. You knew if this song was too offensive for Stern to play on the radio it was probably all down hill from here.

The band got louder, heavier and faster.

Drool dripping out, my tongue hanging south Saliva flowing free My eyes full of lust, my balls gonna bust Give yourself to me

Your jaw hit the floor. You didn’t have a mirror but you could feel yourself immediately going pink at the lyrics. Your hand slapped over your mouth and you laughed at how lewd this song already was.

“Um,” you said with an embarrassed giggle, “Well, it sounds as though our narrator has gotten a little more forward with his, um… cravings?” 

The guys were enjoying watching your reaction. Peter was squirming in his seat, but still couldn’t help laughing at you. His twinkly grin was causing something to flutter inside you somewhere but you swatted that feeling away.

Thirst I can't quench, c'mere, you wench There's something I need

“Ok, well now he’s calling me a wench, so much for the courteous introduction.” you laughed.

Carnivore, I'm a meat-eater Carnivore, I'd like to meet ya Carnivore, I know I'll reach ya Carnivore

“Ok, given the title of the song I will assume he is more interested in m-e-a-t-i-n-g me than m-e-e-t-i-n-g me.” you joked

“Yeah, we wanted to leave that up for the listener’s interpretation, but the next few verses might clear that up for you as well.” Peter said, scratching his chin, faux intellectually.

The hunger I feel makes you a meal Ooh, girl, you sure taste sweet By my hair, pull me there Oh, guide me to your treat Spread your legs, I'll seed your eggs Ah, feel me deep

Your hand slapped over your mouth again at the lewdness and the guys still found you entertaining. You made your best attempt to push any thought of Peter tasting you or feeling him deep inside you from your brain in this professional setting, not that it was the first time those kinds of thoughts crossed your mind. The effort of it made you sweat. You pressed your thighs together as a warm heat nagged at your core. 

“Um, he sounds insatiably hungry…” was all you could get out with a shy giggle, and the guys laughed at your uncomfortable narration and you tried to hide behind your hand.

The chorus played again followed by: 

Oh, I'm going down! Dive! Dive!

And an insane, shredding guitar solo. This was not really what you usually listened to and certainly not this early in the morning, but you couldn’t help but bob your head as the song got faster and faster, dizzyingly so.

Next, women’s moans filled your ears. You had to laugh at this, it was too obscene to even be taken seriously. 

“Peter, is that you too?” you asked with a grin.

“No, that was your mother.” Peter flippantly replied. 

You shook your head, but couldn’t help but laugh at his unabashed lewdness and the thought of your poor, Catholic mother being ravished by the satanic Peter Steele. Peter covered his tight grin with his hand again and maybe was redder than you. Not possible, you corrected yourself.

She moaned for longer than you expected, deepening your blush, but she was soon interrupted by a second, more brief guitar solo. 

"Lick me," she begged, she pulled down my head I love to eat pussy!

The air rushed out of your lungs, your jaw had to have been in the basement with how wide your mouth was gaping. Even worse, you could feel a flood between your thighs, causing you to squirm in a way you hoped wouldn’t be too noticeable. You never thought something so humiliating, being forced to play along with Stern’s stupid game, and listen to these obscenely erotic lyrics with the obscenely erotic writer and singer of those lyrics sitting there watching you squirm, could be so… arousing? 

It was too early for these stupid confusing feelings, too early for this ridiculously loud and lewd music and too early to be playing nice for creepy shock jock weirdos. You had no quips left for this stupid game. So you went for an honest response.

“It sounds like he loves to eat pussy.” you deadpanned, looking directly at Stern.

With that, the mood shifted. The FCC prohibits all obscene and indecent language from 6am to 10pm, which you had been prepped on and you’d just said something sufficiently obscene and indecent. Peter clapped and laughed harder than you’d seen him and Stern’s look at you was fulfilling his namesake.

“Allllll riiighty folks. Thanks to Nora Byrne and Peter Steele for coming on the show this morning! And now, time for a word from our sponsors.” Stern said into his mic, losing any of the cool he started the show with.

“Oho, that is the last time you are on my show!” Stern shouted as soon as the “ON AIR” sign flickered off.

“Great!” you said with a smile and stormed out of the studio. 

That was the last thing you should have done. You didn’t need so much controversy in the middle of awards season and Stern was actually doing you a favor having you on his show at such short notice. But were you supposed to just sit through this stupid humiliation ritual he was putting you through all because he held the strings? Either way, Larry was going to be pissed.

You walked briskly down the hall headed to the green room before Peter caught up to you. 

“Hey, Nora!” Peter grabbed your arm and your attention. His long fingers gently squeezed the circumference of your bicep. His hand was warm even through your sweater. You hadn’t realized you’d been shaking from the adrenaline of the conflict.

“I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” Peter said, a look of sincerity in his jewel toned eyes.

“I promise I’m not always like this, I swear.” you said quietly, looking away, traitorous tears threatening to well out of your eyes. He’d been doing a favor to help you out too which you also squandered, all before 8am, too. Had to be a new record.

“You were provoked. You’re right, that guy is a total creep. It just fucking blows that he has as much power as he does to make or break a career.” Peter whispered, pulling his hand away, there was the small ‘zap’ of static shock from your sweater, causing him to flinch. 

You hadn’t realized how close the two of you were standing either in the tight hallway. You realized he was close enough that you could smell what you thought was Brut cologne on him, mixed with coffee and musk. If you weren’t still beet red from the song and the altercation, you would definitely be turning pink.

You took a step back and looked down both ends of the hallway. Behind him was clear, but behind you, you saw Angie’s head darting back in the greenroom from where it had been poking out of the door frame. You groaned.

“Listen, I’m fine, ok? I gotta go.” you spun on your heel leaving him in the hall where he stood. 

You fought every urge to turn and look back at him. You lost to that urge and as you turned to enter the greenroom and snuck the briefest glance at him. His hands were in his pockets with his head down walking a few paces behind you back to his greenroom further down the hall. Before you slammed the door shut, you thought you caught another waft of brut as he walked by.

You turned to face Angie who was sitting on the couch, eyeing you suspiciously.

“That went well.” she remarked with oozing sarcasm, twisting an invisible knife in only a way that your sister can.

elanor rigby - the beatles

After some more conversation with Larry, the two of you devised a plan to make you more appealing to men: all you needed was some help from your favorite goth, Peter Steele. You decided to see if he would still be willing to get some coffee.

Larry got you his number and you planned to call him that day. You dialed the number and after several rings were prompted to leave a message. 

“Uh, hey Peter, it's Nora Byrne. I heard about what happened on Howard Stern and.. I, uh, just wanted to say thank you so much for defending me. You really didn’t have to but you were so gracious. And I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, there’s been so much going on… Um but anyway, if you still wanted to grab a coffee, I will be in New York next week and would be happy to find some time to get together if you’ll be around. Um my number is… Um, yeah, call me. Oh and thanks for the flowers too I think. Um, anyway, bye.” 

You hung up the phone and smacked yourself in the forehead. Ugh, you sounded so stupid. You hated that the whole Letterman thing was even brought up again. You thought it was behind you at this point. You hoped you didn’t sound ungrateful. You also figured it was probably around dinner time in New York and you were in LA. Who knows when he could even get back to you or if he even would. You should have been focusing on your projects but it felt like all of your unstructured time would now be wondering if you would get a call back or if you said the wrong thing. You felt like a pathetic high school girl waiting for the cool hot guy to call you back, not an Academy Award contender. When you were on the phone with Larry earlier, you were so positive everything would work out. 

Just as your ruminations reached a fever pitch, your racing thoughts were interrupted by the landline ringing. You rushed over to it and then hesitated a moment, your hand hovering over the phone, not wanting to seem too eager. It must have been pretty late in New York for him to call you. It could be anyone… it could even be Larry calling to see if there were any updates. Finally, heart beating, you snatched the phone off the receiver.

“Hello?” you said in your best impression of a calm, demure woman who certainly wasn’t about to burst out of her skin.

“Hey, is this Nora? Uh, Nora Byrne?” an unmistakable baritone voice with a Brooklyn accent asked. “Uh, it’s Peter uh Steele”

“Oh, hey, yeah” you said in your best impression of a nonchalant woman “thanks, for getting back to me so quickly.”

 “Oh, yeah, no problem, no problem-”

“And thanks for defending me today, you really didn’t have to do that-”

“No, I did. Despite how my music makes me sound, he shouldn’t be disrespecting women like that.” He said plainly, “You don’t deserve that. You have your whole career ahead of you, you don’t deserve to be taken down by some creep like that.” 

“Wow, Peter, that really means a lot. It takes a lot to stand up to someone with that kind of influence, when you also have your career and band to think of as well… And I hadn’t even thanked you for the apology or flowers or anything… But yeah, it means a lot that you think enough of me that I’m worth standing up for…” You hadn’t intended to get so deep but the words just came out of you. 

“Of course you're worth that, and honestly I’ve been haunted by the Letterman appearance. I was glad for the opportunity to defend your honor.” He chuckled.

You laughed too, subconsciously twirling the coiled phone cord around your fingers and chewing on your pinky nail, “Well, I’ll be back in the city next week, if you’re around, I’d uh love to take you up on that coffee if it’s still on offer.”

“Uh yeah, I gotta consult my calendar but I should be able to get a coffee. Not sure if you get to Brooklyn often, but there are a few hidden gems that are worth the trip. I’d be happy to show you.” 

“I’m intrigued.” you replied. 

The two of you nailed down the rest of the details of your meeting and you penned it into your black book for next week.

___

Over the week you couldn't pin down whether you were giddy to be seeing him again or giddy to just put this whole thing to bed. Larry was the only one who knew about your coffee date, only it wasn't a date. Larry suggested you call it a “coffee clear up” and you hoped he wasn’t serious. 

But there was no need to define it as you weren’t planning on mentioning it to anyone. You figured there was no point in telling Julian, he wouldn’t be mad or anything, it just wasn’t worth having to explain why it was important for your career but totally meaningless to your personal life. And if you mentioned it to Angie she would find a reason to make it about herself and her CD needing a signature, you had to remember to bring it this time, and it just wasn’t worth getting into. Plus, what if he said no to doing Stern? Then you’d be back at square one, men would be running from your films just like the boys running from you at your middle school dances. You shuddered at the thought.

You tried not to try too hard to get ready. You had an idea of what he liked from that damn Playgirl, but you didn’t want to seem like you were trying to look cute for him. Every stitch of clothing you brought with you felt like the wrong thing, so you finally settled on thick tights, a long skirt (he liked skirts) and some combat boots (he didn’t like combat boots) and a cardigan (his beliefs on cardigans were not indicated in the article). Maybe that was something balanced and not trying too hard? You did minimal make up and wore your hair down because it was so cold. You threw on an extra oversized sweater, then your overcoat and scarf and headed off. The sky was so thick and gray with overcast it was almost like pea soup. 

You’d never been to this part of Brooklyn before. It really was way out there. He’d offered to give you a ride but you didn’t want to inconvenience him, and you wanted the time to think before the coffee “clear up”. You wouldn’t normally take a cab, but given the weather and the distance and the unfamiliarity with the area, you found yourself calling the front desk to hail you one. 

On the drive over, you took some time to reflect on how your life choices got you here. Here, where you had people hailing cabs for you, where you take said cab from Manhattan to Brooklyn without worrying about the tab or the tip, where you meet up with goth rockstars in diners and get in fights with Howard Stern, where you were a shoe-in for an Oscar nom. None of these things ever seemed attainable for you, but here you are. 

Your cab pulled up to the diner and you hopped out and fixed your scarf a bit in the window before you headed in..

The diner nearly sucked you in with its warmth. A bell chimed when you opened the door and a waitress greeted you. The smell of hot coffee immediately sorted and revived you from the brisk walk in. There was a chrome and glass case up front with some righteous looking pies, many with miles of cream and meringue piled on top. The checkered tiled floor led to the vinyl booths revealing Peter looking down, drumming with his fingers on the Formica tabletop in one of the booths in the back.

He looked oversized in that booth, wearing a button up green corduroy shirt, his chest exposed slightly with an extra button undone and his long raven hair falling past his shoulders, obscuring his face. He looked up from the menu and smiled at you warmly, stilling his hands and moving to stand from the squeaky booth. You walked towards him with an air of confidence you didn’t quite buy.

You exchanged pleasantries and he shook your hand before inviting you to sit. You felt slightly electric making contact but ignored it, you wanted him to take you seriously as someone grateful for his kindness, and not as just a fan girl. 

“Thanks for inviting me out here, I feel like you can always tell how good a diner is going to be by how pissed the cook sounds.” You say referencing the cook in the back who is grumbling the most creative string of curse words you’d heard since meeting Joe Pesci. “It shows he cares,” you joked.

“Oh yeah, Jimmy? He cares a lot.” Pete said dryly, “And really don’t mention it; I’m happy for the opportunity to try and prove I’m not an ass, or at least entirely an ass, I just play one on TV.”

You didn’t know how to dissuade him of his guilt at this point. You’d all but forgotten about the incident until Stern had to comment on it.

“Peter, you clearly are not an ass, you defended my honor on Stern more than you should have, you’ve apologized and sent flowers. I should have reached out sooner, now I’m the one who feels like an ass. Let’s just have coffee and call it a truce.”

“If you insist. My big nose does make me an easy target, though. It would be nice to get to know the next Best Actress.” he said, this time you did blush, mainly out of embarrassment. 

The waitress came up to the table with a limp to ask for your orders. It sounded as if Peter knew her too. Peter ordered a black coffee, a slice of apple pie a la mode and a glass of whole milk. You ordered a black tea. The waitress took off, her slip resistant shoes chirping with each step.

Peter looked at you perplexed “Is that all you’re gonna get?”

“I already had lunch, and I’m meeting my boyfriend for dinner later. I didn’t realize we were getting food, just coffee.” 

“Yeah, well I just want to make sure this was worth it for you to come all the way out here. This place has the best pies in maybe all of Brooklyn.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“Well, what do you recommend then?” you asked. You hadn’t anticipated having to actually eat in front of him. That made you anxious.

“What’s your favorite?” 

“I dunno, I like pumpkin at the holidays… I like to eat pie for special occasions. It’s not as special if you just eat pie everyday.” 

“Oh, it’s still special. Whenever I come home from tour, my mom bakes me a whole apple pie for myself with a quart of milk. Eat it with a fork right out the middle.” He grinned waiting for your reaction. You smiled, picturing his enormous self inhaling a full pie and downing a jug of milk. 

“I’m not sure if I should be concerned or impressed.” you said with a smirk. “Do you unhinge your jaw and eat it pan and all, like a snake, or do you chew and swallow?”

“It depends on how long I’d been away,” He said with a laugh. 

“Do you have it with cheese?” you asked.

His face contorted in confusion, and possibly pain. “With cheese?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“My grandpa always said ‘An apple pie without the cheese is like a kiss without the squeeze’” you explained casually.

The waitress came back with your drinks and his pie and set them out in front of you both. His jaw hung open in shock and disgust.

“You have cheese with your apple pie?” he asked again seriously. He prepped his coffee with two creamers and three sugar packets, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, do you need me to say it in Portuguese?” you said laughing.

He shook his head again and took a bite of his pie, “I’m sorry, but that is disgusting. I don’t even like when my food touches, let alone cheese on fucking pie on purpose.”

You were shaking with laughter at this point. 

“I’m glad you find it funny,” he said with a chuckle.

“I just never thought a big tough guy would have such strong opinions on pie” you said finally calming down enough to sip your tea.

“I take my pie very seriously. How do you think I got so big and tough? Not from eating carrots.” He said, pulling the scowl he had on for Letterman before taking down a big gulp of milk. He was like a teenager still, you observed. 

“Here, try a bite,” He fixed a bite with the perfect ratio of pie to ice cream and held the fork out for you to take, it looked so small in his giant hand. “Sorry I don’t have any fucking cheese for you”

You smirked. Rather than taking the fork from his hand, you opened your mouth. You don’t know what got into you, but you were just intrigued to see what he would do. He arched a brow curiously and brought the bite toward your open lips. You leaned in, feeling that taut electric energy from The Late Show cycle in the air around your booth.

“Oh sorry,” He said as he had missed your mouth a little, causing some of the melted ice cream to dribble out of your mouth. You licked it up. Your eyes flashing away from his. 

“Damn, that is some good pie.” you said after swallowing and wiping your mouth with the paper napkin. 

He looked pleased with himself. 

“I don’t share my pie with just anyone,” he said. You smiled shyly into your tea. 

“Well, I feel honored. I almost feel bad asking you for a favor now after that pie. I can see why you wouldn’t want to share.”

He quirked his eyebrow, “What favor?”

“Well, don’t feel like you have to say yes or anything.” You began your pitch a little nervously “But since the Howard Stern thing, it has been revealed that… I don’t necessarily appeal to men as much as we thought. Apparently people think I am an ‘uptight prig’” you admitted, staring back down into your tea. 

“Now that is more surprising to me than the pie and cheese thing” he said sincerely, still digging into his pie.

“Well, I’m supposed to be the next Venomheart, so the 25 to 40 year old man is unfortunately a big demographic for me.” You sighed. It was hard to admit and harder to believe he wasn’t just trying to say the nice thing. 

“No, seriously, you shouldn’t believe that type of thing about yourself. I’ve only found you to be..” He thought carefully for the right word and enunciated each syllable delicately on his tongue once he’d decided on it. “Scintillating.”

You bit your lip and stared down at the soggy tea bag inside your drained mug, relating to its spineless flaccid nature a little too closely. “Well that’s very generous of you.” you said quietly.

“Hey, I mean it.” he said very seriously, “Now what were you going to ask me?” he coaxed.

“Well, my manager and I thought that maybe if you were willing,” you said, his eyes urged you to go on, “that it could be interesting to have us both on Stern and the three of us could bury the hatchet on public record. And that having you and I together again could… possibly make me more appealing to males aged 25 to 40” you grimaced, hearing how that sounded out loud. 

“Oh, Jesus.”  He ran his long fingers through his long back hair and let out a long low puff of breath, “I really hate doing appearances.”

“Oh, ok that’s fine.” You said in a high, quick voice that didn’t sound like your own. “I totally get it, I didn’t mean to burden you with all that. I totally understand not wanting to do it.”

“BUT, I was going to say before I was interrupted, that it could be some decent attention for the band. And I figure I owe ya one. I’d have to talk it over with the band and my manager, but I could make something work.” He thought for a moment “I’m not sure what I could do to make you more appealing to men aside from getting every one of the 25 to 40 year olds eyes checked.” 

You blushed again. Dammit, he was smooth.

“By the way, aren’t you too good for that super hero crap? I mean you’re about to win an Oscar, right? Not to be offensive, but you’re really talented, and that other stuff seems… Beneath you.” 

“Well, unfortunately, those are the gigs that pay me well enough that I can afford to do the indies, the edge to that is, will I still be taken seriously for those kinds of roles when I sell out? My manager seems to think it's a risk worth taking.” You put your head in your hands with a big sigh.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “I get that, we gained a lot of fans with Bloody Kisses in a way we couldn’t imagine. But some of our original fans called us sellouts, but honestly, this is kind of the music I like making and it feels authentic to me right now, and clearly it's resonating with others as well. And if we make a little more money and get to go on bigger tours, perform for more fans, then that’s what it's all about, performing for the fans.”

You smiled a little. He made it all make sense. 

“I don’t have, just like, unlimited barrels of money or deep roots on a Hollywood family tree like all these other stars seem to have.” you sighed, “Everything I’ve gotten, I’ve had to get on my own. Which makes the stakes so much higher. It could all come crashing down at any moment, and I will only have myself to blame.” 

You don’t know how he got you talking like this. Since your aunt died, you had a hard time opening up. You didn’t want to bother Julian with your neurosis; you didn’t want to make the time you got with him a boring sobfest. Your family couldn’t really be supportive in that way, they just didn’t understand the industry. You honestly weren’t sure if you’d said these thoughts out loud ever. And he was genuinely listening. Fork down, sparky green eyes fixed on you, his mouth in a grave line and a furrow to his brow you’d only seen in his forced frown on Letterman.

“Sweetheart- sorry- Nora, you are putting too much pressure on yourself. Failure, if it does happen, is a part of the artistic process. Do you know how many shitty bands I have been in that lead to Type O? And if you lose a role because some mouth breathing dip shit with more hair on his ass than his head ‘doesn’t find you appealing’ that is not your fault. Everything about you screams ‘ movie star’ and just because the American public might not be smart enough to see it doesn’t mean it’s not the absolute truth.” He shrugged. His Brooklyn accent made him sound all the more sincere. The sincerity made you feel like you wanted to crawl out of your skin and run screaming down the street, but it was exactly what you needed to hear. Like taking medicine, and in a way, it was healing something inside you that felt a little broken, even if it was hard to swallow. 

“Peter, you’re too nice.” you whined with your head falling back in your hands.

“You could just say ‘thank you’” he said slyly.

You looked up and the waitress was walking off with the check. You hadn’t even noticed its brief presence on the table. As soon as you opened your mouth to argue Peter cut you off.

“Don’t even say anything, I already paid it, it was my coffee, I am more than happy to and if you even try anything I will be offended.” He said before you could even try to protest. “I’m a man, don’t embarrass me by trying to buy the coffee I asked you on.” he said, you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, thank you.” You said with a small smile getting up from the table and met his eyes, “Really, thank you, I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear any of this.”

“Happy to, sweetheart.” He gave you a friendly side squeeze when you stood up. “You need a ride? I’ve got nothing else going on. I’m cheaper than the cabs.” he said, winking again.

“If you insist.” you said with a grin.

“Where you staying?” He asked.

“Royalton” you sheepishly admitted.

“Oooh, fancy” he said in a mock posh accent and twirling an imaginary mustache. You giggled. 

“You don’t stay at whatsisfaces place when you’re in town?” He asked, referring to Julian.

It was a good question, one you got often and hated answering, mainly because you knew there was no good answer. After the years you two had been together, you had a key, but that did not grant you permission to just pop over. You told yourself that it was better this way and he enjoyed staying in the hotels with you, it was like a vacation for him, even if it was usually work for you.

“Oh well, it’s honestly just easier this way. I never know if he’s coming or going, and I uh, have to get my beauty sleep, ya know.” You were pathetic.

“Uhuh..” he said skeptically, but without pushing the issue.

He held the door for you as you walked outside and nearly blew away in the strong gusts of wind whipping down the block. You could hardly see through your hair and scarf whipping around you. It was the time of year where the sun set before you ever really had the chance to wake up and the darkness in the sky already was disorienting given it had been light out when you entered the building.

The streetlights switched on as if on cue and he led you down the block and across to where he was parked with a strong protective hand guiding you on the small of your back. You shivered but were certain it was due to the cold.

“Oh, no, you’ve got to be joking. That's your car?” You shouted over the wind. You stared in disbelief at the death trap he proudly gestured you towards. It looked like something out of Mad Max. There were sirens and speakers and lights and a flat paint job that had to have been all custom and done by him. It was even lifted up on fucking monster truck tires. 

“Of course, this is my pride and joy, The Beast.” he said, opening the door for you once again. He clearly got off on horrifying women with this thing.

“Peter, there is no way I’m getting in that thing. Is it even street legal?” you asked, staring at it disdainfully like a kid being forced to eat broccoli.

“What’s your plan then? You gonna wait for a cab in the cold or just hope the wind blows you back to midtown?” He snarked, ignoring your question and gesturing you in with his hand.

You huffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest and got in without fighting because he was right. Any time you spent waiting for the cab in the cold would be too much. It really was absolutely frigid. 

The inside of the car was worse than out. Everything was stripped down to the metal except for the seats and the stereo. 

“See, this is what guys 25-40 like!” Peter said over the roar of the engine, slapping the steering wheel enthusiastically. 

“What? Vehicular homicide?” You responded dejectedly when you accepted that there were no seatbelts. Peter howled with laughter.

“Why don’t you pick out something to listen to since you’re being subjected to such abysmal transport.” he said gesturing to the old beat up shoe box full of cassettes.

You were surprised he had a Beatles tape in, which you said would be fine to listen to. You’d expected to be blasted by some loud metal like in your sister’s car. He talked about how Paul playing bass and singing got him comfortable with the idea when he was forced to switch from guitar to bass for a band as a teenager. You told him about when you learned to play Eleanor Rigby on piano as a child, you wanted to play it so often your dad made you do 10 push ups every time you wanted to play it, to give the rest of the house a break, but you were so persistent to play it he had to up it to 20. Peter laughed so hard he nearly had to pull over. 

He was about to turn the corner to the hotel but you stopped him. 

“Actually can you just let me out right here?” He looked at you confused. “I don’t know when Julian is going to arrive, and I just don’t want to cause him any suspicion. And this ‘vehicle’ is definitely cause for alarm”

His face fell a little, “Yeah, that's totally fine.”

“I’m so sorry, its so stupid, but its just easier if-”

“No, no problem at all. Take care Nora” he said looking slightly wounded as you braved the frigid air once more.

“Thanks, Peter, seriously, for everything.” you said hoping you sounded as sincere as you felt

“Don’t mention it, Nora, see you on Stern, I’ll have my people call your people.” he said, winking a final time before you shut the door and he drove off. 

Fuck. He was seriously in your head. 

You blew into the hotel and up to your room. You were relieved when you got up there that Julian hadn’t arrived yet. He wouldn’t do anything about it, you didn’t think, but it was easier to be avoided than explained. You had time to get out of your layers and check your answering machine.

You called your inbox, it had two messages. The first was from Larry checking in on how the “coffee clear up” went. The second was Julian letting you know he got caught up and wouldn’t be able to meet you for dinner but he could probably come by later. 

Well, at least he’d called and at least you got to look forward to seeing him later, maybe. The energetic buzz you had from seeing Peter evaporated as you changed into your pajamas and found the script you were trying to memorize. Maybe you’d order some dinner, or maybe you wouldn’t. Whatever confidence Peter had built up, Julian pulled out from under you with just a message.

Later that night as you were about to doze off by yourself, you jolted awake with a gasp. You remembered you’d forgotten Angie’s fucking CD and it STILL needed to be signed.