Ah well, Grossman could wait. After all, Art could interview Dylan anytime he wanted. Intruding on his friend’s personal lives was much more fun.
He slipped a large silver key out of his pocket and let himself into Gabrielle’s apartment. He liked Gabrielle very much. At first it was because of they way she looked, it was true. Art was a shallow bastard and he knew it. But getting to know the little British girl he found her to be warm, funny and had what he liked to think of as a spark. Obviously other people saw it in her too, other wise she wouldn’t be off gallivanting around California with Joan Baez and such.
The apartment was large and well decorated. Not by Gabrielle, because she had no taste in clothes or furniture or anything like that. By some forty year old woman who worked from Gabrielle’s eccentric aunt or something like that. Art supposed she was sent to fix the niece up nicely. He supposed it would have annoyed him that this girl had everything handed to her on a silver platter and she didn’t have to even work for any of it. But then again, he liked her. It didn’t bother him the slightest.
The phone was ringing in the kitchen. Art raised his nose at a plate of something that had been left out a few weeks ago before the girls left. He lifted the phone and answered whilst cleaning up the counter.
“Hullo”
“Erm…” said a voice on the other end of the line “Yes.. uh. I must have the wrong number… but”
“OH no” Art said banging the plate into a trash can under the sink. When it refused to shake loose he tossed the whole plate in. “Are you looking for Gabrielle Gallagher?”
“Yes! Er... who’s this?”
“This is Art” Art said easily, kicking the cupboard shut and leaning against the fridge. “Who is this?”
“Um. George”
“Oh! George! I’ve heard so much about you from Gabby.” He chuckled and then lowered his voice as if afraid of someone besides George hearing “look… is it true you haven’t really… erm. You know *shagged* Gabby yet?”
“What? Who is this?” George demanded
“This is Art”
“I fucking know that, who the fuck is Art!”
“I’m her neighbor” Art sighed “I heard the phone ringing and came to answer it
George sighed heavily “Where’s Gab—“ he hesitated “Er..rielle”
“California”
“What! What the fuck is she doing in California?”
“Um” Art paused, fusing his eyebrows together in a frown “I dunno… actually I think Meg, this chick who hangs around with Mike- he’s Gabby’s dealer. I think she loaned them her van and Montana wanted to go west to see what was shaking in the bay area”
George pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it with an incredulous look on his face. “What the fuck are you on about?” he asked finally
“Look I just want to know the truth” Art sighed “She says you too are just friends” he slid a drawer open and pulled the contents out, letting them fly all over the counter. One of which was a framed picture that Montana clamed to be more holy then the tomb of Christ. Gabrielle said some chick named Asteroid… or Astrick… or something like that, had taken the picture on her camera. It was a picture of a skinny boy with a huge mop of dark hair in leather pants with his shirt off in bed with Gabrielle. You could see up her skirt in the position she had herself, which was entwined around the boy. Sheets were mussed and tangled in their legs, hair was skew wiff in that just woke up look, her make-up was smeared across her face and he looked far too happy to be laying in bed with just his *friend*.
“A picture is worth a thousand words and I’m looking at one very compromising one of you Georgie boy”
George’s mind whirled. He was talking to a nutcase he was sure. “Erm… look mate, when’s she gonna be home”
“Dunno” Art shrugged shoving the picture back into the drawer “They said either before Christmas or before Valentines”
George moaned “Great thanks for the help”
“Now wait just a seck George! I want to know if you’ve knocked boots with Gabby?”
George swallowed a very spiteful “fuck you” and said instead “No. Now, tell me Art, is everyone she’s hanging around with like you? I mean… is she ok? Is she… is she in good shape”
Art pressed his lips together. He was thinking what good shape might be. Um. “Yes! Sure, she’s great!”
George let out a sigh of relief “Thanks, mate. Could you have her call me when she gets home?”
Sure no problem.
**
George slammed the phone down. “Fuck you! He yelled at it “You silly fucking cunt!”
Brian raised his eyebrows. “George… lad, everything all right?”
George made a frustrated sound and pushed his hands through his hair. They’d been back two weeks from the tour from hell. After getting beat up and getting the flu George was then subjected to four more days living in a van with no money for booze or medication and having to play guitar with what felt like a broken hand.
Well it was clicking. When your hand clicks it can’t be good. Actually, when any part of you body starts clicking, you should go to the doctors. Arriving back in Liverpool George was taken to the hospital and put on penicillin. His hand stopped clicked once the doctor too a look at it and popped a few things around. All was good. He didn’t have to become an electrician.
Brian was letting him use the phone at NEMS in order to call Gabrielle because Brian had wanted to speak with her as well. George wasn’t sure what about. He had an idea it was to do with him.
But she wasn’t there.
“California” he sniffed angrily “She’s in fucking California, probably having a giant party while I’m here sick off my arse and playing guitar for five bb a night.” He jerked his hand and slapped it into the wall “It isn’t fair!”
Brian was silent for a moment, not reacting to his talent’s outburst. “Well” he said at last “George… I can try to get you more then five bob if that’s what this is about”
George sighed “No.. I’m sorry Bri. I’m sorry.” He flopped down into a chair “It’s just... I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” He let his head hang down for a moment, and then, as if a thought occurred to him “I guess… I mean, I’m not as dependent on her as I thought, right? Right Brian? I mean, we just did a two week tour of places other then Liverpool and the response was great! We’ll be doing clubs next, you said. Why do I need her so much you know? I’m getting on… I don’t *need* her.”
Brian smiled “I’m glad you’re coming to your senses” he said with confidence he didn’t feel. Christ, what kind of mad love affair was he advising this boy on “I’m sure she doesn’t need you either”
*
Gabrielle’s heart seized up. She tried to breath but all that was coming in was nothingness. She couldn’t see her vision was blocked by something. Fading. She was fading, she was dying. And then someone was shaking her awake. Her eyes were forced open and she heard the pattering of rain. She was not dead. Merely dreaming. Dreaming about death. Lovely. But then she was aware of a very acute pain in her arm.
Montana pushed the dark fringe off Gabby’s face. “Are you awake?” she rasped.
Gabrielle’s eyes rolled back into her head as Montana tried to shake her into consciousness. And then suddenly, she was awake. Eyes flicking around nervously. Face Pale. Mouth ajar.
Trixie sighed and let her head slip down so it was resting against the door jamb. Never had she felt so sick in all her life.
Upon returning from her sit in the bar their group was no longer in the little coffee house. The waiter said the group had headed off towards their van, parked along the Hiaght Ashburry.
Gabrielle found the van, but sitting cross legged in a circle inside it was Montana, Trixie, Bob, Jerry and a man she’d never seen before and asked only to be called Phoenix. Gabrielle joined the circle and discovered they were all stoned out of their minds. Not only that, but Phoenix was describing how to melt a certain powder Methamphetamine.
She didn’t pay attention, only concentrated on getting wasted from the joint that was pasted around.
“Want to try?” Phoenix asked, she had been staring at him, unaware that she was in her drugged haze “Hmm?” she asked blurrily. Her faze traveled down to where all the attention seemed to be settled on. Phoenix’s arm had a rubber band like thing tied around it, and he was injecting a yellow substance into his arm with a syringe. Next to him, Bob and Trixie were doing the same thing, helping each other. Montana nudged Gabrielle, a grin on her face.
Gabrielle felt as though she might be sick.
Her health was in bad shape as it was, she had a phobia of needles and blood and most likely would not do so well with this new trip.
Bob pulled the needle out of his arm and let out a low whistle “That is heavy”
Phoenix lit up a cigarette while Trixie slumped sideways into Bob. A few minutes later and she was up, looking around excited and nearly bouncing with the drugs after affects.
“This is terrific!” she announced, “Much better then pills”
Montana an Jerry were shooting up Meth now too. And in few minutes they were bouncing off the walls with Trixie while Bob sat with a funny look on his face. He looked down at his forearm, a trickle of blood ran down from the vein. He cocked his head to the side “You missed it” he told phoenix “You missed the vein”
Phoenix shrugged and grasped Gabrielle’s arm, pulling her towards him and pulling out another rubber band to tie off her arm. She made a squeaking sound and looked around at her drugged companions. The other three were enjoying themselves quite a bit. Bob, who had missed out on the drug but paid for it anyway, was pouting. He caught her eye. Surprise flashed across his face. An emotion never seen very often in Bob Dylan. He opened his mouth to say something. Gabrielle realized she must have looked panicked, but he wasn’t about to say anything to diminish his own coolness.
Instead Dylan pulled his seaman’s cap off his head and flopped it onto hers.
Her arm went numb. She felt a sharp prick and then her arm really felt numb. Her stomach churned and she wanted to be sick. Really suck. Bile rose up in her mouth and she choked it down. Bob’s hat fell sideways, across her eyes.
Phoenix released her arm and too the band off.
For a moment it was as if nothing had changed, and then the world began to blur and Jerry’s laughter started to fade and Bobby’s face- which now held the rarest Dylan emotion of all, concern, was swimming before her eyes. She inhaled sharply and then fell forward, her face smoshing down the frond of Bob’s chest.
Phoenix laughed “Aren’t you for Joanie Baez?” before lighting up a cigarette and exiting the van to play with the others.
Gabrielle woke up. Her arm hurt like nothing else. She was aware of her very own heartbeat in a painful way. She tried to sit up. Wiry arms helped her to, pulling her up and supporting her.
“Oh Christ” she slurred
Bob pulled out a packet of cigarettes, not saying anything and no longer looking concerned but glancing over at her, his brown eyes creasing every now and then.
Gabrielle felt her high come and she sat very still through all of it. Not wanting to let t go. And then, maybe hours, maybe minutes later the world became dark again.
Bob Dylan sighed as the beautiful dark haired girl careened sideways into him yet again. He put his arm around her. Girls like this got you into trouble. They didn’t care and could break your heart. He watched her, making sure she was still alive.
She was.
The next morning, when everyone else had come down Gabrielle and Bob were still sitting in the van while the others got sick. She didn’t want to cry but it was written across her face, she was sure. She just didn’t know how to.
Bob was being unusual towards her. His arm probably numb, around her shoulder for the past ten hours. Smoking away his cigarettes and the last of her dope.
Montana got her to wake up and Gabrielle was thankful, because it wasn’t good to fall asleep/ go unconscious and then not wake up.
Bob nudged her suddenly “Gabrielle” he muttered
She looked up at him, he had a stern look on his face “You all right?” he asked
She pressed her lips together and simply stared at him. “I don’t know.”
*
Thanks next chapter. Am to tired. Was thinking of taking that chapter when George gets beat up... and doing a sort of Alternate universe thing with a bit of slash. It seems open. Thought?
Remember to review.
