6: "That's The Time I Fall In Love Again..."
Supporting Anthony on
her left arm, Britney rushed through a door and slammed it behind her. Fingers
glided up to a lock and slid it into place. She sighed. Turning to Anthony, her
eyes widened and watered. Perspiration dotted her forehead.
"Ant," she
panted, "are you, are you okay?"
Anthony leaned against the pop star,
nestled under her protective arm. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, and
nodded.
Britney flung her arms around his midsection. A hiss escaped his
lips as his abdomen stung and throbbed beneath her grasp. Gasping, she stepped
back. Her eyes bulged, her rose petal lips parted. "Oh, no! You're hurt!"
She took his hand and led him further into the room. Dingy beige tiles
covered every square inch of wall and floor space. Gray metal doors stood to the
left of them, tan counter lined with porcelain sinks to their right. Britney
patted counter space between two sinks, and Anthony seated himself there. She
raised the tails of his suit shirt, unveiling rouge toned splotches across his
six-pack. She drew a hand to her mouth and cried, "Oh my word! That looks bad!"
She gripped his right hand tighter in her own. He winced.
"Can you please
not hold my hand so tight?" Anthony requested through clenched teeth. Britney
loosened her hold and turned his hand in her own. Crimson blood shimmered across
Anthony's knuckles, and stained Britney's fingertips.
"Oh, Anthony!" She
turned the hot water knob on the sink in front of her. Water flowed from its
faucet, splashing against the drain. Britney pulled Anthony's injured hand into
the stream. Water ran red, its brightness fading as it closed in around the
wound.
Britney took her handbag off her shoulder and lay it by the side
of the sink, away from Anthony. One hand underwater with her companion's, the
other digging around in the bag. Hair dangled over her face, and she stopped to
tuck it behind her ear. Then her hand slid back into the bag and pulled out a
palm-sized yellow tube.
"I know I had some Neosporin in here," she
mumbled to herself. She set down the tube on the countertop, her eyes meeting
with Anthony's.
"Hold on a second, okay, honey?"
She released her
hand from Anthony's and opened one of the gray doors behind her. She stepped
into the stall, her clogs slapping against the tile, and retrieved a fistful of
toilet paper.
Gesturing toward a shiny paper towel dispenser, Anthony
asked, "Why not just use paper towels?"
Britney shook her head. "They're
too rough," she said. Her eyebrows slanted toward her nose. "I don't want to
make it worse than it is."
Britney furrowed her eyebrows as she squeezed
Neosporin onto the toilet paper and dabbed it on Anthony's cut. She caressed his
knuckles with it.
"You didn't have to do all this," Anthony spoke, a grin
emerging over his lips.
"I just don't want it to get infected," Britney
replied, watching as blood sunk into the tissue. She glanced up, into his eyes.
"I care about you, Ant! And I don't like to see you hurt."
Anthony
smirked. "Like when you rushed out onstage when I tripped over a mic chord
performing at the..." He trailed off, smile fading. He furrowed his
eyebrows.
Britney's eyes widened. "What's wrong?"
His mouth
dropped open, uttering a couple inaudible syllables before, "That didn't really
happen. Why do I remember it then?"
"That happened!"
"No, it
didn't!"
"Yes, it most certainly did!" Britney shook her head. Raising an
eyebrow, she asked, "Why are you questioning it?"
Anthony rubbed the
bridge of his nose, and shut his eyes. Wagging his head, he sighed. "I'm not
trusting my memory."
"Why not?" Britney set down the bloodied tissue and
took hold of Anthony's fingers. Gazing deep into his eyes, she said, "You know,
I'm worried about you, honey. You're acting really strange today. I think it's
stress building up... and that's not good for you, Ant. You need to
relax."
Silence filled the room. Britney bit her lower lip and glanced
away. Then her eyes lit up, and she turned back to Anthony.
"Let's see a
movie!" she exclaimed, eyes shimmering, lips curving into a
smile.
Anthony steadied his gaze upon her, an amused smirk playing across
his lips. "A movie?"
"Yeah!" she replied. "There's a theatre in this
mall! We can go see 'Moulin Rouge'."
Shrugging, Anthony replied, "Okay."
He slid of the counter top, clutching his midsection, and headed for the
door.
"Wait!"
Anthony turned around, only to find Britney
searching through her bag again. She pulled out a mousy brown wig. Synthetic
hairs spiraled in curls down the arm that held it.
"Put this on first,"
she said. "You shouldn't take any more chances."
Gesturing toward the
wig, Anthony snorted. "I'm gonna look pretty."
Britney approached the
chuckling Chili Pepper and removed his floppy green hat. She plopped the wig
onto his head. "It's no worse than what you usually wear for disguises." She
smiled, her eyes fixed on his hairline as she tucked loose strands under the
wig. She stepped back and giggled.
Anthony glanced to his right, into a
mirror. Curls spiraled off his head and rested in massive clumps on his
shoulders. He stared at himself through his eyeglasses.
"In a way," he
stated, "I look like Hillel did, back in high school. The hair at least, not the
glasses."
"God rest his soul," Britney whispered. Her eyes met with
Anthony's and held momentarily. A heat wave swept over him, his heart rate
quickening. He drew a hand to his forehead.
"Oh! Your hat!" Britney
handed him the terry cloth hat. His fingers brushed over hers as he accepted it.
Eyes steady on Britney. Anthony pulled the hat over his curly crown. She took
his hand, flashed a smile, and unlatched the door. She led him out of the
bathroom.
They took an immediate left, right into the mall's movie
theatre. Before them sat a spiky haired kid in a crimson vest over a white suit
shirt, behind a desk. Movie titles and times glowed in mustard toned letters
against a black screen over his head.
Britney approached the kid. "Two
tickets for the next showing of Moulin Rouge please." Her sunglasses hung on the
collar of her lavender blouse, her only "disguise" the peach kerchief over her
hair. She swept a hand into her handbag.
"Okay," the kid replied,
stabbing at buttons on a cash register with an index finger. "That'll be fifteen
dollars."
Anthony dug a hand into his back pocket. Sh**! No
wallet.
"Um, Britney?" he gave her a weak smile. "I don't have any cash
on me."
Batting her eyelashes, Britney grinned. "I asked YOU out, honey!
I'm treating." She pulled out a fuzzy gray wallet and opened it. And produced a
twenty dollar bill.
The kid accepted the money. His fingers ran across
the cash register.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!... DING!
A drawer popped
out of the register, into the kid's midsection. He slid the twenty under its
metal clip and pulled out a five dollar bill. He handed it to her. A couple,
coming from behind Britney and Anthony, stepped up to the desk.
"Um,
sir?" Britney piped up. "We didn't get our tickets."
The kid rolled his
eyes. Heaving a sigh, he yanked the two tickets from their dispenser. Without
looking, he shoved the tickets across the desktop. They slid across the slick
plasticy surface and fluttered to the floor. Britney bent over and picked them
off the puce carpet.
"Hey! Excuse me..." Anthony turned to the kid,
wagging his index finger.
Britney grabbed his shoulder. "Ant? Let it
go."
Waving a hand at the kid in disgust, Anthony pivoted on his right
foot and followed Britney to the concession stand.
"That punk was
disrespectful," Anthony thrust a thumb over his shoulder. "I was going to ask
for the manager."
Wagging her head, Britney sighed. "It's just not worth
it. What do you want for snack?"
Anthony rubbed his aching abdomen. He
didn't think his stomach could even take food right now. "A water would be
great."
"You sure you don't want anything else?" she furrowed her brows.
He nodded. Britney turned to the vested gentleman behind the counter. "Can I
just get a small popcorn and a couple waters please?"
The fellow nodded.
Snatching a fist-sized bag, he asked, "Do you want butter on your
popcorn?"
"No, thanks." Britney pressed her arms against the glass
countertop and leaned over it. "Oh, and would I be able to get just a large cup
of ice too?"
Pursing together his lips, the man grimaced. "I can't give
you that unless you pay for the drink."
"That's okay."
Soon they
were wandering down a narrow hallway lined with doors. Overhead, flashing signs
jutted out from the mantels of the doors, each displaying a movie name and
time.
Britney held her popcorn and drink with one hand. With her free
one, she pointed to a door several feet ahead, to their left. "There it is!" As
she lowered her arm, she rotated her hand. She glanced at the gold Seiko wrapped
around her wrist. "The movie's already started!"
The two shuffled through
the door and down a dark corridor. Light shone from the end of it. As they
approached, Julia Robert's face came into focus, giant and glowing from the big
screen, glasses perched on her nose, a cell phone to her ear. Britney breathed a
sigh.
"Good! We just missed some previews."
She slipped her hand
into Anthony's and led him down an aisle of seats. Anthony glanced about the
theatre. In the middle of the auditorium sat five girls, leaning over a guard
rail. Faces illuminated, they chattered to one another. Three rows behind them
and off to the right, a man hugged a woman close to his chest, and the two glued
their eyes to the screen. Every other seat was empty.
Britney sat down,
and Anthony eased himself into the seat beside her. He groaned as his stomach
scrunched.
Britney took hold of the largest cup and pulled. Her teeth
clenched, her nose wrinkled. At long last, the cup dislodged from the tray. Ice
clunked within the cup. She set down the popcorn and tray, and turned to
Anthony. Her free hand traveled down his chest, to his shirt tails. Her fingers
hooked around the hem of the article of clothing and lifted it.
"What are
you doing?" Anthony slid back in his seat and raised an eyebrow.
Eyes
steady on Anthony's waist, Britney said, "I'm checking out your bruise. It's
already starting to swell." She handed him the extra large cup. "You should put
some ice on it during the movie."
Anthony's eyes closed, then opened. He
held his gaze on her as he accepted the cup. "Thanks." He pressed the cup into
his throbbing six-pack.
The two turned to the screen. They watched as a
red carpet opened to the 20th Century Fox logo. Their signature score resonated
through the theatre.
Britney's arm lay across the rest between her and
Anthony. He watched as her fingernails drummed on its glossy lacquer. As they
scraped in small circles and rapped again. She turned to him and shyly smiled.
The two turned back to the screen.
A scene of rooftops spanned the
screen, tinted yellow, marred by dancing black smudges, like an old movie. A man
hung out a window to the left, back stiff, head pointed upward.
"There
was a boy," his singing voice crackled. "A very strange, enchanted
boy..."
The music swept over Anthony, his eyes slipping out of focus.
Images flashed through his mind. He and Britney, hand-in-hand, jogging along a
beach, dancing at a night club, lost in one another's eyes over a dinner table.
In his mind's eye, he saw himself holding a microphone, stepping to the side,
and tripping over a chord. Tumbling to the floor. Laughter abounding around him,
snickering hissing from even his bandmates. A sweet angel had skid to his side,
tarnishing her shimmering silver evening gown. Glossy brown eyes met with his,
met and connected. Eternally fused.
"This he said to me," the funny man
on the screen sang. "The greatest thing you'll ever know is just to love - and
be loved in return-"
Anthony's fingers dipped into the space between the
armrest and Britney's palm. They wrapped around her hand, their fingers
interdigitated. And their eyes met.
Met, and connected.