Lindsey

Los Angeles is a busy city; the traffic busier.
Life here so far is like living in a hazy dreamworld that’s drenched in sun and smog.

At 9:00, the time I'm supposed to be meeting Gerard at the Asian cuisine place he said he could never get enough of. Did I mention I'm meeting him again? After four years?

I was already running late, because I didn't realize the time and mastering a smokey eye is still difficult and time consuming for me. For some reason, it's strenuous layering different nude shades of eyeshadow just right without looking overly sexy or like you tried to hard. I wasn't trying hard, but after four years I thought I should make kind of a good impression.

He was a nice kid when I met him; different. I still have a vivid picture of what he looked like back then in my mind; he's changed a lot obviously. I don't know why, but he left a lasting impression on me. I liked his thought process and his sassy comments. I could tell when I first met him that he was unabashed and open, like he wasn't going to hide.

Before he opened for us that night he seemed scared, nervous behind stage. On stage, it was like he was a different person; insane. Back then I related to that so well, understood completely. When you preform on stage, it's like there's two sides of you. The normal, everyday person; and then the side you would never be allowed to let out in real life that can escape on stage. See, being a musician and playing is like a stress relief, therapy.

I watch the traffic lights dance on the rain that's collecting on my windshield before the wipers flick it away; it's beginning to drizzle. The lights turn green, and my foot slams on the gas.

Can't be late.

I find the place with little difficulty, the windows inside are dim and I can see the electric lights shining from within. Funky looking, sort of suave. I like it, and I know I'm dressed well enough.

One of the things I never want to look like is that I tried to hard, I like to keep it casual. I paired a black skater dress with a pair of red flats, twisted and pulled my blonde bangs off my forehead. I feel confident, good, like I can make a friend without feeling like I look like shit.

He's easy to find because of his hair color, red. Across the restaurant as I entered, I see he's saved a small corner table for us. His hair practically glows underneath the dim lighting, and as I near and he looks up all the words I thought I had to say stop in my throat.

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

I'm speechless, for the first time in forever. I fight a flush I feel creeping up the back of my neck; fight desperately and almost lose. I'm a fairly independent women, I haven't thought about boys to much since I'm always so busy and I try to take time to focus on myself.

I remind myself I set this up in complete innocence, this is all about the bands even though I hadn't straight up told my partners about this or my idea yet. It just lined up so perfectly...

His face breaks into a smile, and I remember it now. I remember meeting him and the way his shy, crooked smile had flashed across his face the first time we saw one another. Now, it's exactly the same. His lips are a pale shade, shaped rather femininely. His lower lip looks like he's been chewing on it slightly, like he just released it.

“Hi again, Lindsay.” Everything about him is radiating genuinity when he stands up to greet me. We give one another a light hug, and he pulls out my chair for me.

“I'm sorry I'm late,” I blurt out. “Traffic in L.A. is totally new to me.”

“Different from Brooklyn, huh?” He sets his chin on his hand, looks at me intently.

I glance down at the menu, appreciate the way it's laid out and the way the graphics bordering the pages fit in. “Definitely. I'll get used to it, or I better at least.”

We both get miso soup as a starter, and a different sushi roll for the main meal with one of the sides they have. I'm not sure if he's okay with drinking so I restrain myself from getting a Lychee Martini, but he orders a bottle of wine for us after asking if I prefer red or white.

Usually when I see someone again after a long time, it's slow getting to know them again, getting back into the flow of things. I never knew Gerard well. Tonight I experience something I can't say I remember every having come to me this effortlessly; my words flow with no problem. It's like we'd know one another those past four years, kept in contact. There's no awkward silences, we ease into conversation easily.

And we talk about so much.

Maybe it's the way he looks at me, the way the corners of his mouth lilt up at the right times. There's no barricade with him—he's like an open book—no foreboding aura. I had almost forgotten what he was like, placed his stage performance self over his true being.

“I've got a lot of ideas for Danger Days. It's just a matter of getting them from my head and down onto paper or just out. You know, it's like I get all these great ideas but they get lost up there because I get distracted by real life.” He gazes up, lost.

“I can tell it's something really important to you.” I place my fork between my lips; metallic taste.

“It's what I do...I mean, it's a living. But it's more than that.”

“Therapeutic.”

“Yeah.” He looks at me, our gazes are transfixed. “That's definitely it.”

I knew what he was saying. The rush of it all, being on stage, writing and playing music—there was something about it that released all the pent up negative feelings I felt inside.

“Music helps filter out any negativity I have, I put it all into what I'm doing out there.” I lay my cheek in the heel of my palm. “It's done better than anything else could for me. It's better than drugs, alcohol, and other shit you can get caught up in.”

He glances down at the table stacks his bowl on his plate. “You know a lot, Lindsey.”

We forget to talk about the tour until the waitress brings our bill over. A quick, discreet glance at my phone under the table tells me we'd been dining and chatting for almost two hours.

“Are you ready for your bill?” She asks, and I can tell we spent the max amount of time they'd like us to spend at this table.

Gerard looks up like he didn't even notice our waitress come over, surprised. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Oh shit, the tour. Touring!” He rubs the back of his neck and casts me an apologetic look as he slides his wallet out from his pocket. “Just leave the bill here.”

“We're paying separately,” I say to her.

“I've got it,” he says. The waitress takes this as a cue that she should probably leave, and makes a quick exit before I can decline.

“No, I should pay my half. You gotta feed yourself.”

“Lindsey, I'm fucking drowning in money.” His voice sounds teasing. “It's on me, now you can tell everyone that your first real meal in Los Angeles was paid by Gerard Way.”

“I'm paying it next time,” I shake my head, secretly pleased.

Then I realized I implied there was a next time. I mull over my mistake, hoping I wasn't to straightforward or didn't sound straight up needy.

Looking up from the bill, he beams at me. “Alright, then. I'm sorry I spent so much time running my mouth that we didn't talk about the tour.”

After we paid the bill and gathered our things, we stand outside for a moment.

I seriously feel like I need to light up, but constrain the feeling. I'm not smoking until I'm safely in my car, if we end up seeing one another more often he'll have to find out how much I smoke after we get to know one another better.

“This was great, Lindsey.”

“Thanks a lot.” I smile at him. “It was nice...seeing you again after all that time.”

“I promise I'll hit you up again so we can actually talk about what we're supposed to.”

“Alright, I'm holding you up to that. I got your number.”

“Ya better use it.” We shake hands, the wind tousles my hair around my face.

As we make our separate ways across the parking lot to our cars, all my feelings twist around inside my chest, make a knot. I don't know what this is, don't even know what I think. I'm happy, that's for sure. Happy, and so relieved that this went smoothly.

In the car, I light a cigarette before I even start my car.

He's a doll, that's for sure. There's something different about him...and I'm intrigued. Even though he seems open, it's not like there no dimension to him. I can tell I've only just scratched the surface of Gerard, if barely. I can't name his type, can't put my finger on it.

Different.

Notes

Seconddd chapter wooohoo things are going to get really exciting ok goodbye