The One Where Veronica and the Gang go to Wichita

The One Where Veronica and the Gang go to Wichita

“What’s the name of the band?”
“John Hancock’s Quill.”
“Doesn’t sound very punk to me,” Veronica said.
“Sounds pornographic to me,” Alison said. Everything sounded pornographic to her.
Seth’s truck rattled down the road. Veronica sat in the middle. Alison had the window seat.
“They are punk, therefore cool. It’ll be a good show.”
“Sounds that they should sing Broadway melodies.”
“Punk, show tunes: either way, it’ll be a good show.”
That was debatable. Seth’s definition of a good show was any club that let them in. Only the most desperate of clubs with the most desperate of acts let in the under aged. Still, Seth was starving for live performances of the musical nature and it was a Saturday night out doing something.
Veronica’s parents believed her to be spending the night at Alison’s. Alison conversely told her parents she was staying with Veronica. It was the perfect cover, as both parents were too afraid of the other to call or check up on their daughters.
Wichita was a two and a half hour drive away. Alison brought provisions. Alison’s idea of provision was a case of Dr. Pepper, a bag of chips, and candy bars. They dined like royalty.
Seth didn’t exactly know where the club was. They drove around the Westport section of the city. Veronica folded her arms and concentrated on not complaining that they did not have a map. Finally, in desperation, Alison rolled down the window and yelled out, “Hey! Does anyone know where the Slaughter House is?”
True to its name, the Slaughter House was in fact, a retired slaughter house.
“Is it me, or does this stink like pig intestines?” Veronica asked.
“It’s you,” Alison said. “Now don’t be square or we won’t get in.” The Slaughter House was fairly popular and a line of hopefuls waiting to get in milled in front of the bouncer. Alison was stunning in white hot pants and knee high vinyl white boots. She looked so punk and cool that if she did not get in the Slaughter House, it would loose cool points.
Veronica was wearing what she thought was risqué: a large shirt that hung off on shoulder and a mini skirt so mini, she kept involuntarily tugging it back down. She was wearing the biggest gold earrings she could find and the loudest lipstick Covergirl made.
The bouncer nodded at Alison and said, “You and your friends.”
Inside the club was loud and crowded. Mostly it was loud. Seth grabbed her hand as he made a beeline for the stage.
“Is that the band?” Veronica asked.
“What?” Seth shouted.
“Is that the band!” Veronica shouted about the music.
“Yeah, I know,” Seth said. Great. Clubs were the best places to hold conversations.
Two beers later, Seth had pushed her onto the dance floor. It was crowded and various elbows jabbed.
Breathless, Veronica made her way to the edge of the dance floor. She couldn’t spot Seth, nor Alison.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the distinctive white vinyl boots in the dark of the club. They disappeared out the front door. Veronica followed.
Outside, the air was refreshing smoke free. Her eyes teared up briefly, washing away the pollution of the club from her vision.
She saw a flash of white vinyl and the back of Alison’s head disappear around the corner. She wasn’t alone.
Veronica turned around. Fantastic. They couldn’t go anywhere without someone getting in Alison’s pants. Fucking fantastic. She didn’t know where Seth went and Alison was off to have anonymous sex with a stranger. She was alone, outside the club, not sure what to do next. Maybe she should go in there and find someone, anyone and…She wasn’t sure what would happen next. Didn’t matter, really. Veronica knew she didn’t have the nerve to go find a stranger and fuck them. She wasn’t that kind of girl, unfortunately.
Veronica went back to the door. A small crowd was outside, some waiting for entry, others puffing furiously on cigarettes or waiting for the payphone.
The thick man at the door lowered a thick arm and said, “Sorry, no reentry.”
“Come on, my friends are in there.”
“No reentry.”
“I just came out for some air.”
“No reentry without the hand stamp.”
Veronica looked down at her hand, pure and stamp-free.
“Please, my boyfriend’s inside.”
“No reentry with the stamp.”
“We know the band.”
“No reentry with the stamp.”
“You keep saying that. Surely,” she swallowed her breath and tried her best to be mesmerizing. “Surely there must we some way we can come to an understanding?”
“No reentry.”
“Nothing I can do to change your mind?”
The bouncer looked her up and down slowly. He said, “No reentry with the stamp.”
Veronica rolled her eyes. It was official now, she was completely unattractive and would remain a virgin until the very, bitter, bitter end of her life.
“Let the kid in,” someone from the crowd shouted.
“No.”
“Come on…”
“She don’t even look old enough,” the bouncer said.
“You let me and my friend in earlier. We were old enough then.”
“Yeah,” the bouncer said, “but your friend is fine.”
The unnamed benefactor pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “I saw her inside. She’s cool.”
The bouncer nodded and motioned for Veronica to hurry back into the club. She tried to look over the crowd and spot her benefactor. The crowd was a sea of black leather, much like the crowd inside. No one stood out obviously in shinning armor.
The club seemed to be more crowded now. Veronica stood on her tip-toes and tried to spot the pale blonde head of Seth in the dim light. No such luck.
“So you know the band, huh?” The voice of her benefactor came from behind her.
“No,” she said, turning around. “I was desperate. I thought I’d give it a shot.”
Her benefactor was a thin man of an indeterminate age which could have been anything from fifteen to twenty five. He didn’t look old enough to be in the club. Neither did Veronica. He was wearing a filthy tee shirt which, in a former life, was white, and a black leather jacket. The lighting gave his hair a purple hue. Charming.
“Simon,” he said, shoving a head forward.
“Veronica,” she said, shaking it gingerly, as if he carried germs.
“Any sign of them?”
“How?”
“The people you’re itching to find?”
“I can’t see anything in here. My boyfriend really wanted to see this band and now he’s vanished.”
“Big fan, is he?”
“I believe he said, ‘It’s punk so it’s cool.’ I guess you could say he’s a fan.”
“And you?”
“A bit loud for me.”
“Me, too. Beer?”
Veronica nodded. They went to the bar and clinked bottles.
“You do know someone in the band now. Find your mates and come on backstage.”
“Cool.”
Veronica’s first stop was the bathroom. How very practical of her but three beers and a lot of bouncing around on the dance floor made some things very necessary. There was no line which was nice but the floor was filthy. Graffiti covered the walls. Nice. A genuinely punk place. Veronica chose the least filthy toilet.
Someone entered the bathroom. Through the grab between the stall walls, Veronica could see the clean shine of white vinyl boots.
Someone else entered the bathroom.
“Why did you have to invite her?”
Veronica was ready to flush but stopped at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Because she’s my fucking girlfriend.” Another familiar voice answered.
Through the gap between the metal stale walls, Veronica could see the thinnest sliver of Alison and Seth.
“No, she’s not your fucking girlfriend.”
What an odd to word to emphasize.
“Don’t be like that.”
“I thought you wanted to have fun.”
“We are having fun.”
“This is not what I call fun. Jesus, Seth, just pick one of us and let it be done. I’m not going to fucking wait around forever.”
The bathroom door opened and closed. From her thin vantage, Veronica could see Seth wash his hands in the sink. He splashed cold water on his face before leaving.

***
“How did that make you feel, hearing them talk?”
“Angry. Stunned. Angry.”
“Angry enough to kill?”
“Oh god, no. Just, stunned, like I just found out the great wizard was a snake oil salesman hiding behind a curtain.”
“Betrayed?”
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth.”
“But you were betrayed. They betrayed you.”
“They did not.”
“They were having an affair. Your boyfriend and your best friend.”
“An affair? I think that’s glamorizing the situation. They fucked.”
“You discover a week before her murder that your best friend was fucking your boyfriend. Don’t you think the timing’s odd?”
“Convenient for sloppy police work, you mean?”
“A month before, sure, I could understand that you decided to be the better person, but a week…That’s hardly anytime at all. That’s like making up your mind and waiting for an opportunity.”
“You think I waited for an ice storm? That was my opportunity?”
“It’s great cover. Anything can happen in a storm.”
“Not that.”
“But you were angry?”
“Of course I was angry! The man I loved was fucking my best friend! I don’t know how long it’s been going on? As long as I’ve been dating Seth? As long as I’ve known Seth? How long have they been lying to me? Smiling with their deceitful mouths.”
“Sounds like you put some thought into the matter.”
“What would you do if your wife was screwing your friend?”
“Me? I’d kill one of them. How about you? Ever feel like that?”
“Is this the interrogation technique they teach you at the academy? I haven’t told you a damn thing I didn’t want to tell you.”
“We’re only just starting.”

***
Veronica sat on the toilet and let herself panic for two minutes. Damn. She should have known. There were clues. There were clues, weren’t there? Finding Alison in the library, that was clue. “What are you doing here?” Veronica asked innocently. “Seth told me about this place,” Alison answered, deceitful with her mouth filled with lies and malice. At the time Veronica thought Alison was meeting someone in the library but she assumed that was because Alison was running out of secret rendezvous points in the tiny town.
Calmly Veronica left the stall and went to the sink. The counter was filthy and great gouges in the porcelain littered the sink basin. She turned on the tap and splashed her face with cold water.
“You can do this,” she said to her reflection. “You just have to make it back home.”
Her reflection seemed uncertain.
“Once we’re home, then we’ll worry about what to do.”
The reflection looked sad. She practiced smiling. No luck. Too much teeth, it was faked and look weird. Maybe she should just pretend she had too much to drink. It wouldn’t be so hard. There was plenty of spilled beer on her shirt. She smelled like she was wasted.
Veronica practiced a droopy eyes look and knitted her brows together, as if trying to remember the very most important thing in the world.
Perfect.
Seth and Alison were standing at a table to the right of the stage. The band was disassembling their instruments and the crowd left the dance floor. The table’s top was littered with empty beer bottles. Alison was smoking a cigarette in a bored manner.
“Hey,” Seth said, smiling in her direction. “Where were you?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” Veronica said.
“I went out to get cigarettes.”
“Both of you?”
Seth tossed a worried look at Alison. “No, just me.”
“While you were gone, I met a member of the band.”
“No way,” Seth said. “Which one?”
“The dude with the purple hair.”
“Awesome.” Seth put an arm around her shoulder in a gesture that was possessive and friendly, maker her as his but ambiguous in the extent that he possessed her. “The crowds dieing down. How about we head on back?”
“Sounds good.”