Wildwood - Julian Casablancas

Chapter 6 - All Tomorrow's Parties

Song of the day: Violet by Hole

Sylvie sat at her spacious marble countertop, munching on cheerios in a bowl that had Mickey Mouse's face on it. Morning light filtered through sheer tan curtains onto her left side. The day was sunny and relatively warm. 

For once in her life, Sylvie had gone to bed at a reasonable hour. There was nothing on her to-do list today. She imagined the rest of the band had spent the night with Brian's parents - it was nostalgic for them, given how often the group used to have sleepovers there after practice. Hell, they had a routine in place especially for the occasion. Meg would take one arm of the ginormous wrap-around sofa in their basement, Rowan would take the other side, and Sylvie would curl up next to Brian in a sleeping bag on the floor.

How far gone those days seemed now.  Distantly, her cellphone chimed in the background. It sounded muffled. She didn't feel like answering. but nevertheless Sylvie exerted the effort to dig through her laundry, finding it in the pocket of her black slacks. 

A brief flutter of hope that it was Julian calling dissipated as Brian's number appeared before her. It had been almost a week since he'd bought her hot chocolate and listened to her talk in a nasally voice. Maybe all the snot scared him off. 

"Hello?" she answered impatiently. 

Brian's voice was deep, as if he'd just woken up. "Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

The temptation to hang up was strong. "Is there a reason you're calling, or is it just to irritate me?" 

"God," he chuckled, "It's like I pissed in your cereal or something. Listen, my friend Ocean is hosting a party tonight. Now I know what you're thinking - it's not just any house party. This place is supposed to be pretty classy."

"Ocean? What the hell kind of a name is that?" Sylvie asked.

"His parents were hippies. So are you in, or are you out?"

"Depends," she said, "on whether or not Meg is coming. I don't feel like talking to her right now." 

Brian laughed. "No, you know that's not her scene. But you know who will be there?"

"Who?"

"Your little boyfriend. Julian."

"I wish. He won't even call me back. Also, aren't we a little old for parties?"

"We're rockstars. We'll never be too old for parties."

Sylvie exhaled. She wanted to see Jules again, but the fact that he hadn't called indicated the feeling probably wasn't mutual. However, one-on-one time with Brian was appealing - their bond was unspoken, but profound nevertheless. "Okay, you win. I'll go. What time?"

"It starts around nine. I'll be by to collect you around 8:45; with any luck, we'll be there at 9:15. And Sylvie..." Brian paused, trying to summon the right words "... I'm not saying it was right of her to write about you like that, but Meg does have a point. Sometimes it feels like you've stopped trying." And with that he hung up. 

"Well, fuck you too then."

The sun slid from east to west, darkening the sky as it went. Given the season, it had already been dark for several hours when Sylvie began getting ready. Her hair had been fried straight two days before and had not seen a shampooing since, which seemed good enough. Her face, however, did require some attention. In typical rockstar fashion she took a black eyeliner pencil and smudged it until it looked intentionally messy.

As predicted, Brian knocked well before Sylvie had gotten around to dressing. He had fluffed up his afro and donned a tan leather jacket with corduroy pants and his usual beanie. Within a few minutes they were inching along the congested streets of New York. The stars were hidden behind a thick layer of smog and cloud cover.

The place was definitely swanky. It wasn't so much a house as it was a mansion. A very expensive speaker set rested along the living room wall, blaring out something unrecognizable at a freakish volume. Dozens of people were clumped into little groups, leaving just enough space to squeeze between them. 

Inside the spacious kitchen, a sort of alcohol buffet was lined up, complete with limes and various types of glasses. Brian helped himself and Sylvie to a Shiner Bock each. Sylvie took a lime and began to suck on it as she surveyed the room. 

As she crossed the threshold into some sort of den (it was hard to tell given the ridiculous amount of people crammed in), she tripped over something large, splattering beer all over the carpet.

It was Julian, laid out across the floor with a dazed expression. One of the guys from the café was sitting against the wall next to him in the same Coca-Cola shirt that now had a few droplets of beer on it. 

As she tried to push herself up, Jules took hold of her arm and yanked her right back down to the floor. Her ass hit the carpet with a thump that made him snort. Nobody heeded the three people or the beer stain on the ground, stepping around as if they weren't there. 

Jules stuck his face right up to Sylvie's. They were so close their noses almost touched, but not quite. Something was off about him - it was as if he could barely contain himself.

"Fancy seeing you here, Miss Fowler. You been stalking me?" he asked with a girlish giggle. She wanted to be snippy about the fact he hadn't called, but the truth was she couldn't be. Obviously he wasn't interested in seeing her again. It hurt, but it wasn't surprising.

She turned to his friend. "Is he on something?"

"Adderall," the curly-haired boy replied, "mixed in with a bit of Jack Daniel's."

"I see."

Jules looked between them, as if he was struggling to control his own gaze. His finger was still entwined in Sylvie's polyester sleeve. "Sylvie, this is little Fabrizio," he said, patting Fab's cheek. "Fab, this is the lovely Sylvie Fowler. She sings like a... like a fucking falcon."

"Nice to meet you," said Sylvie politely. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of Jules' comment. By the way he looked at Jules, however, she could guess that Fab knew what it meant. She stood up slowly to retrieve paper towels for the stain, but by the time she returned both men had wandered off.

The next half hour was spent alternating between silently nursing a cocktail and chatting up miscellaneous fans. It was still baffling to be recognized in public. When she was eighteen, it made her feel powerful, to be so well known and so beloved.  

After a while, Sylvie decided she'd seen all that needed to be seen. She took a few turns around the place again in search of Brian. There was only one place left he could be - upstairs, near the bedrooms. Several people were already up there doing unsavory things. She crept up the stairs, passing the living room in which Jules and a few others stood on a table shaking their hips and groping one another drunkenly. 

"Brian?" Sylvie half-called down the upstairs hallway.

The music was still thumping beneath her feet. The sounds of smacking lips and female moans sounded faintly behind closed mahogany doors. One door, near the end of the hall, was almost silent, cracked ajar only the slightest bit. Sylvie crept up to it and rested her ear against the doorway. A voice was heard; laughing, perhaps, and undeniably Brian's. 

She threw the door open. Brian was there - and he wasn't alone. A man was knelt between his spread legs.

"Shit!" said Brian, wide eyed. 

The man turned his head towards the door. His shoulders kept Sylvie from seeing Brian's - ahem - willy, uncovered by the corduroy pants around his knees. 

Sylvie threw her hands up. "Sorry- I, uh, I didn't mean to... I'll leave you to it."

She fled, red-faced. Brian's heart froze in his chest - his deepest secret was out in the open air.