[For Bill]

[thewordofweb]

The Catscratch Club is not the best place to write memoirs, but I find the ambiance distracting enough, encouraging enough to put down words on the page. I've got a drink in front of me, a cigarette going, and my notebook turned open to a page where I edit out the words before me, recalling my time in Buchloe, just before Landsberg.

Joe is upstairs doing...well, whatever he does up there. I don't priviledge myself to ask because I do trust him and by the time I finish my drink and enjoy the music, he's usually done and we can head home. I see no purpose in going upstairs myself. I wouldn't exactly enjoy the parade of flesh on display, whether female or male.

So I'm far more inclined to write. It's what I like and it passes the time.

Comments

[guinea-trap.livejournal.com]

Bill comes down the stairs, steady and sure, not too much alcohol in him yet, but boy he's pissed off. When he spots Web at the bar he stalks over, surprisingly good at it, fake leg or not.

He opens his mouth to say somethin', but pauses when he takes in what the hell Web is doin'.

"You're such a nerd," he spats, a word he picked up from Kara. He likes it, kinda funny soundin'. "What the hell're ya doin' writin' stories in a bar?"

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I glance up after a moment, lips still fastened to the glass of straight vodka I had been partaking in when I wonder if Bill is genuinely wondering or if he's confused as to the 'why' of it. "Because I have a drink and writing is better than entertaining awkward conversation?" I suggest warily, giving him a curious look. "What's got you all bothered?"

[guinea-trap.livejournal.com]

Bill sneers, almost says somethin', but stops himself again. He slides into the stool next to Web, fixin' him with a good hard look.

"You an'...Joe, you're...together, ain't ya?"

And fuck, that's kinda hard to say without throwin' up in his own mouth. But he's tryin', for Joe. Only for Joe.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I set my pencil in the pages of my journal, tucking away pictures of my family and sketches that I've made in the meantime, turning to face Bill. I take a long drink from my glass before setting it down, debating my response. "Yeah, we are," I concur, wondering what this is about. Babe still refuses to even acknowledge it, so I'm not sure what this is about. "Don't worry," I deadpan, raising my glass for a refill. "We're not publishing the play-by-play in the paper."

[guinea-trap.livejournal.com]

Bill cringes, makes a face. "Are you-- no, look, the point I'm tryin' t'make here is that your...boyfriend, or whatever the fuck he is, has Helen dancin' all over him," he says, angry as hell. He knows it's what Helen likes to do, and she ain't his girlfriend or nothin', but why's Liebgott gotta put his hands all over her? "Shouldn't he be keepin' that kinda thing with you?"

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

My cheeks flush slightly pink because Joe has done that sort of thing with me, but I know better than to stamp my foot down and insist that such a thing cannot be done with anyone but me. "I know he's there," I assure Bill smoothly, sitting back in my chair, palms folded in my lap. "He still likes tits as much as you do, Bill, I'm not about to forbid him," I note. "Is this to do with the fact Helen stays over in your room a good deal of the time? Because trust me, he will never sleep with her." He knows the consequences of that and he's proven to want only me in that fashion as of late.

[guinea-trap.livejournal.com]

Bill's expression shows his disgust, but at the mention of Helen his face turns red. Not with embarrassment, not so much, but with anger. His hands clench into fists, and it takes everything in his power not to deck Web right where he sits.

"Helen can sleep with whoever she wants," he grinds out, angry that he even cares, that Web of all people can even fuckin' tell. He feels a spike of shame, pathetic, but it too burns into anger. "I was under the impression that this queer shit wasn't just the sex. I just thought you'd wanna know."

He gets up, not wantin' to stick around.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I sigh and shove my book closed before getting up and peeling off the chair to get in front of Bill, not wanting him to just storm off. "Yeah, well, Joe can't," I say bluntly. "He's not allowed to sleep with anyone else. Jesus," I huff, giving Bill a half-desperate look. "Let me get you a drink, okay?" I suggest. "Just because I'm something you hate now doesn't mean once upon a time we didn't drink under the same roof and share the same stories and jokes."

[guinea-trap.livejournal.com]

Bill wonders if that's hurt on Web's face, and he feels bad all of a sudden. He don't know why he came bustin' down the stairs to tell on Joe. Just knows it wasn't right, Joe bein' up there with Helen. Bill just ain't sure whose sake it was that he told.

"I don't...hate...you or nothin'," Bill mutters, followin' Web back to the bar. "Don't hate any of you boys, okay? I just..." He shakes his head, scrubs a hand over his face. Goddamn, he does need that drink.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I barely restrain myself, wanting to point out that I didn't exactly get a warm welcome, but I know it's as much as my own fault. I stayed away too long, I should have been there, in Bastogne. "Come on, come drink with me. You can ask whatever you want and I'm not going to have my feelings hurt. Besides, Joe's probably bound for some more drinks and I don't think he even knows I'm here," I admit.