Pet Semetary

The night was young and full of life, not for Gwen Stacy though. Staying afloat as a young artist was no easy task. She worked full-time at Record One-Thirty-Eight. A music store in the shops on East 56th near Park Ave in New York. By night, she was a musician. She drummed for her roommate Hobie Brown’s band. Not tonight though. She hadn’t had a break from the gigs in weeks. It was a hot summer. School was out for the local teens, and students were coming back home from university. Many local bands that went off to college somewhere else were back playing shows in their hometowns. A lot of them were friends of Gwen and Hobie’s (well… mostly Hobie’s).

Gwen worked by herself at the shop most days with only one other person, her friend and co-worker Pavtir. On the weekends, the owner’s daughter Lilly would come in to help. They were civil, but Lilly never forgot to remind her what her role was at the store. She was an easily replaceable cashier working in the business that will one day be hers. Mondays and Thursdays the owner, Jeff Grant, would work on site with them. He would also come in during lunch to do the typical day to day managerial duties (Making sure the money was right, placing orders for new merchandise, etc.). The store was small. Nothing they couldn’t manage on their own. Sometimes it did get challenging though, having to work by themselves. Especially during the summer months when the store would fill with clients.

“Nine-Thirty. Time to lock up Pav.” Gwen spun the keys on her around her ring finger, looking over at the young man sitting on the counter beside her. The last customer of the night had just walked out through the front doors. The register was counted, not a dollar out of place, and the records were all neatly organized in their respective alphabetical categories. “Finally,” The boy chirped, hopping off of the counter and walking towards the front door. “Going to any shows with Hobie tonight” Pav inquired with a slight tilt of his head as Gwen walked towards the door. “Absolutely not… if I have to go to another punk gig ever again it’ll be too soon. I’m exhausted. Hopefully, he’s in the mood for movie night because that is just about as much effort as I’m willing to put into spending time with anyone right now”

Gwen chuckled, opening the door for Pav to walk out. She turned the lights out, locked the door, and like that her day had come to an end… she hoped.  “Well, get some rest because we have to do it all over again in the morning” “10 AM sharp” “I’ll see you then. Good night, Gwen!” Pav called out as he walked in her opposite direction. Hobie and Gwen’s flat was a few streets down from the record store. Not too far but she did take the train to get there and back. Nighttime in New York wasn’t the same as nighttime everywhere else. The city never slept and there was always an abundance of people on the street. This made Gwen feel more secure on her journey back home. Gwen trailed down the steps to the subway, popping in her headphones and scanning her metro card to get past the gate. Hundreds of strangers passed her by, their faces all a blur to her. Her life felt so deeply mundane now. Like she worked to maintain a roof over her and Hobie’s head. They made money from music, but it certainly wasn’t enough to cover bills. Hobie worked too, as a piercer in a tattoo shop across town, but thanks to the relationship Gwen held with the owners of her record store and the fact that she was their only other employee besides Pavtir her checks were substantially bigger. Yet all she did was work and music and Hobie. Those were the three things she dedicated her life to.  Not that she was complaining. She loved her work, her music, and her ma- her boyf- well, Hobie. She needed more though. These things felt so all-consuming. Almost suffocating.

 Gwen’s train arrived. The doors slide open. She steps inside and takes a seat. Just like she did every single day. She looked out the window of the subway. There wasn’t much to see, but she didn’t have much to do. She didn’t feel inspired to write or come up with new music. She had a total of one friend outside of Hobie who she spoke to on a regular basis, and she just saw him, so she had no one to text. So, she just stared into the blackness of the brick behind the moving window and analyzed the strangers taking this journey with her. All of them shared the same bored, mundane expression on their faces. Even though they all had their different stories as to why they were on that train, Gwen would never know them. Like the mother and daughter who didn’t exchange a word the entire time, or the balding man sitting at the very end of the ride, typing away at something on his laptop with not so much as a concerned or concentrated look on his face, just a blank expression.

Gwen was always a rolling stone. Her life used to be so full of color, but now everything seemed to be painted in shades a grey. Even her relationship with Hobie. He didn’t believe in labels, but they woke up together, slept with each other, brushed their teeth together, and made music together. Hobie even told Gwen he loved her a couple of times, but when the topic of their relationship came up, he always brushed it off like it wasn’t something they should be talking about. Like it wasn’t important.  So, she either referred to him as her roommate or she didn’t refer to him at all.  All of this ate her up alive whenever they weren’t together. The fear of him just one day up and leaving. The fear of losing him. As much as she hated to admit it, it became somewhat of a common topic in her mind when she was alone. When they were together, she was too distracted by him and his displays of affection for those thoughts to occupy her mind. As the train rolled to a stop, Gwen’s mind seemed to stop racing as much. Knowing she was going to see him soon calmed her thoughts to a point where they became bearable. The subway stopped right in front of her apartment building, a convenience she greatly appreciated. Usually, Hobie would wait to watch her walk towards the building from their fire escape, but not tonight.

She raised an eyebrow, wondering why that was. Gwen made her way up the stairs to her apartment, putting the key in the lock and turning it slightly to open it, but before she could she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Oi! A little late for you to be coppin’ ‘ome, innit Gwendy?”. Gwen’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she could just let go of her anxiety and spend the night with her lover. “Hey.” she chuckled pushing the door open before feeling Hobie’s hand turn her around and pull her in by the waist, pulling her close. “I’ve been waitin’ all day for ya.” a slight blush crept onto Gwen’s face as she looked up at Hobie. He was such a comforting presence to her. Seeing him felt like coming home every time. “Yeah? Well, I’m home now.” she smiled up at him. She couldn’t hide the way she felt for him, not when he treated her like this. “Well go on get ready, right, we’re gonna’ a gig tonight down at the pub.” He lets go of her. Of course, they were. All the plans Gwen had to just stay at home and spend the night inside shattered.  For one night she just wanted it to be her and Hobie. One night they’d spend together where they didn’t have to go out and get absolutely plastered and come back home to have sloppy drunk sex. One night when she didn’t have to take care of him, when they weren’t playing show or going to one. One. She had all this pent-up frustration she felt like she had no right to talk to him about. After all, she did follow him to these shows. She drank with him out of her own free will, she drummed for his band because she agreed to. “I’m exhausted Hobie can we just stay home tonight” Gwen asked, setting her bag down on the coffee table as she walked into their small New York City apartment. It was small but it was theirs. A little living room, a kitchen, it even had a bedroom. Exposed brick. Something you’d see in a movie about some tortured artist trying to make it in the city.

“You can stay ‘ome and be borin’. I’m goin’” Hobie joked, throwing on his vest. For some reason, this lit a fire inside Gwen. All that pent up frustration seemed to burn like books in a library caught on fire. It bubbled in her throat. Everything she wanted to say about Hobie not giving her a straight answer on their relationship to each other, about how she just couldn’t do shows every night, about how this life she’s living is driving her insane came to a rolling boil in her chest, but all that came out was “Oh?”. “Oh? Oh what?” Hobie asked. He seemed to be confused as to why she was upset. He couldn’t go out on his own anymore? What was this, county jail? Gwen let out a sigh dropping her shoulders. “Nothing. Go to your gig, I’ll leave the door open for you when you get back.” Gwen was clearly upset. She tried to hide her disdain for Hobie’s decision to leave but she found it impossible to do so. He saw it clear as day that she didn’t want him to leave. Somehow this softened his expression. He walked over to her and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll only be gone for an hour, yeh? Just to see my mates play and have a pint with the lads and I’ll be home to spend the rest of the night with ya, luv. Sound alright?” he said, tenderly moving a piece of hair away from her face. Gwen nodded. She could compromise an hour if it meant she got the rest of the night with him. “Alright… but don’t get home too late or else I’m going to have to start the new episode of Love Island without you and watching it alone is so much sadder than having you here to make fun of the contestants with me” she tilted her head a bit, grabbing both his hands in hers. “I promise. One-hour tops… then we can make fun of Ella Barnes terrible fake tan together” a small chuckle escapes his pierced lips before he walks to the door. “Don’t be late!” Gwen calls out… to no response. She hears the door shut behind him and sighs, holding her head in her palms and running her fingers through her blonde hair. Am I actually going insane?

The streetlights shone down on Hobie Brown as he walked the streets of New York. He headed to the local Irish pub him, and his mates would host gigs at. O’Malley’s. The owner was a real old Irish punk, that’s how you know the place was authentic. He supported the local punk scene. Most venue owners wouldn’t rent to them, but O’Malley’s was a cornerstone of the NY punk scene with over two-hundred local shows being held there. Hobie had to be at every single one. He became sort of a figurehead in the local punk community.  Everyone knew Hobie. Everyone was mates with Hobie. You knew the music and the vibes were going to be good when you saw him there. Hobie’s walk finally ended when he saw the green neon sign reading “O’Malley’s” on the outside and he heard the chants and screams of rowdy young adults inside. He pushed through the doors and was at once greeted by a group of guys all drunk already off cheap beer. “Yo! Hobie! What’s up?” a voice called in the distance. “Oi!” He responded, raising a hand in acknowledgment. “Ey Hobie!” another called. “What’s up, bruv?” he responded. One of his closest mates, Miles, approaches him and holds his hand to clap him up. He obliges. Hobie wasn’t being himself. Something was eating at him. “What’s up with you, Man?” Miles asks, walking along his side. “I dunno man, nuffin. You gone up there yet?” He responded, gesturing towards the stage. Hobie brushed off the feeling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling that he did something wrong. Gwen looked almost hurt that he went out without her. They’d never had a fight before… not that this was a fight. It was a disagreement though. “Yeah man, I’m sorry. Where’s Gwen?” Miles inquired. Gwen was always with Hobie, you seldom saw them apart. Except for when either of them went to the bathroom maybe. “Oh, Gwen… Gwen wasn’t feeling well.” He responded, lying to save face. He didn’t want to flat out say she wasn’t interested in coming. That would have been rude. It was his mate's band after all. “I’m sorry to hear that man. I hope she gets better.” Miles replies, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be there, though?” He added. “Why? It’s not like Gwen’s my girl or anyfin.” Hobie snapped. Who was he to pry into his relationship with her? “I’m sorry. You're right man. Have a good time, totally sorry you missed our set.” Miles took the hand off his shoulder and gave him a pat. Fuck. He sounded like a total prick. I sounded like a to ’al asshole he thought. Hobie walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools listening to the cover band playing on stage. They were covering Pet Semetery by the Ramones. A slower song. Something he could unwind his thoughts to. “Scotch on the rocks please.” he says to the bartender, sliding him a ten to pay for his drink in advance. The bartender filled a glass with ice and put it down on the table before pouring his scotch. He slid it seamlessly into Hobie’s hand and he downed it quickly. Why do I feel so terrible? He asked himself, his mind occupied by the events that took place before he left. He wiped his lips off liquor and looked across the bar, trying to forget the whole thing when he saw her. Tall, curves, and covered in tattoos from her back to her ankles. “Who… is that?” he asked, looking over at the figure dressed in black standing across the way. Suddenly the feeling of guilt went away. Lubricated with a bit of liquid courage and a chip on his shoulder he could not seem to brush off, he decided to ignore the feeling and carry on with his night. “Riley Santana” he heard the voice behind him say. “Rico Santana’s daughter.” Hobie turned around to face the disembodied voice behind him. It belonged to Miguel O’Hara. The manager for Miles’ and Hobie’s respective bands. He was a tall, muscular man of Mexican descent. He posted strong features and an intimidating stare so unreadable no one could ever really tell what he was thinking. “D’you know her” Hobie questioned, the empty glass chilling the palm of his hand. “I met her father a few times.” Miguel downed the drink in his own palm before turning his attention back to Hobie. “Before he and his wife died in a plane crash four months ago. They left her everything. Their penthouse on Park Ave, money, jewelry, clothes, summer homes in Florida. Everything” he continued, his voice gruff and tired.

Hobie tried to keep a stoic look. “She come around here much?” he asked the man on the stool before him. “This is the first time she’s been seen out since her father died...” Miguel replied, wiping his mouth of alcohol. Hobie took another drink, and another, and another as the night progressed. He never did lose sight of Riley, though. Steeling a glimpse of her every chance he got.  Something about this girl had him hooked. She looked interesting, and a bit familiar. Finally, the night had drawn to an end. Hobie had long forgotten about his arrangements with Gwen. As the crowd moved to exit the pub, he couldn’t help but notice the girl from earlier. Riley. She had a name now. Hobie watched as she motioned to the door and exited the building alone. Driven by some sort of impulse he walked behind her. The closest he’d gotten to her all night. How would he talk to her? What would he even say? His window to act narrowed by the second. Distracted by his thoughts he tripped over the foot of the door at the exit and bumped into her. “My fault, I’m sorry” He adjusted himself and stood back up straight. “No, it's alright. Don’t worry about it.”  Riley said, turning sharply to make sure he hadn’t fallen. “Are you okay?” she asked, looking down and over at him to meet his eyes with a small laugh. “Yeh” Hobie chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. Well, that was easier than I thought He smiled at her for what seemed to be way too long. “I’m Riley” she introduced herself with narrowed eyes and a smile that read ‘this guy is kind of odd... but I'm kind of into it‘.

“Names ‘Obie. ‘Obie Brown. I’m the lead guitarist for Spider, I dunno if you’ve been to one of our gigs” he walked beside her, hands buried in the pockets of his vest. “I haven't but I’ll make sure to check you guys out, Hobie Brown” Riley's voice was just as intoxicating as Hobie thought it would be. There was such a velvety quality to it that you could detect even when she spoke the most mundane of words. “Thanks. Saturday, we’re playin’ bar down the street that my manager actually owns. La Rosa Negra. You should stop by.” They continued to walk down the block together in silence before Hobie realized that they were the only ones left from the show on the street. “Mind if I walk you ‘ome?” he asked boldly. Hobie wasn’t one to shy away from anything. He wanted this girl, and he wasn’t going to let some nerves get in the way.  “Sure, you’ve already gotten this far.” She turned to him, noticing that the collar of his vest had come up when he tripped. “Oh- Hold on” She reached over and gently fixed it. “There you go, can't have you walking around looking like an idiot, Hobie Brown.” God he could hear her repeat his name on a continuous loop. “Thanks...” He smiled and looked down at his shoes. “So, what do you do besides play in your band?” She tilted her head to look over at him. “Well, I’m a piercer at a shop across town.” He looked back over at her, fully getting to see what she looked like in the street light. She had soft features complemented by her dark makeup. Her skin was tan and her hair a midnight shade of black, reflecting an almost blue color. She had a few piercings on her face including her nose and several going up her ears. Her tongue was pierced as well, he could see the metal ball reflect In the light as she spoke. “That’s really sick!” She commented. “What about you? "He asked back as if he wasn’t just briefed on her entire life story for the past four months by Miguel. “Oh, I don’t really do much. I’m kind of a recluse I don’t really go out much” That was hard to believe. She was the daughter of a rock god. A rock god who had just died of course, but a rock god nonetheless. “Really? This your first time at this venue?” He asked. “Oh no, I've been a bunch. I’ve just had some big life changes recently, though. Kind of preoccupying my mind. I’m trying to get out there again but everyone just feels so... inauthentic” he could tell she was starting to open up a bit. He scoffed, knowing the feeling of feeling used all too well. “You can say that again” He responded. “Everyone’s fake as fuck” she said brashly with a laugh. Hobie chuckled at her comment. “I like that, I like your attitude.” He flirted. “I like you too, Hobie Brown” she said in response, looking up at the tall figure beside her.

The streets were dark as the night turned into the early morning. They arrived at Riley’s apartment, but it was clear that neither of them wanted the night to end. “I know we just met but, would you like to come upstairs for a moment?” She asked Hobie, biting the skin on her lip. Are you fucking kidding me? Absofuckinglutely. He thought. “Sure. I’d like that” Riley smiled and excitedly grabbed his hand, pushing open the door and running with him towards the elevator. She was an eccentric character. People would describe her as a sparkling presence. She was loud, brash, and happy. A true kid at heart. Once they arrived on her floor, Riley’s door was only one of two. She fumbled for her keys before finding them and placing them into the lock, turning slightly. Hobie didn’t know what he was anticipating, but he could feel the anticipation swell within him. “This is my humble abode.” She said, switching on the lights to reveal an enormous three-bedroom penthouse. The place was decorated in a whimsical, red curtain-esque fashion. One wall was just a floor-to-ceiling window of stained glass with a red curtain draped over it on both sides. It had panels that opened to the fire escape on both sides as well and it overlooked the entire New York City skyline. Her apartment might have been the Sistine Chapel with the amount of art decorating the walls and furniture. Burgundy ruled the space and gold accents complimented the dark interior. “Jesus Christ, this is all you eh?” Hobie asked. Her parents really were rich. “Yep. I lived here with my parents before they died” She responded. “Sorry to hear that...” He empathized. “You can go ahead and sit on the couch, I’ll get you something to drink. What do you like? Whiskey, scotch, gin?” She asked, heading to the massive oak bar in the living room. “Thanks, uh, I’ll take a whiskey.” He said, clearing his throat before he moved from the door, closing it behind him. She poured their drinks and sat on the couch, waiting for him to approach. He finally did but there was an air of hesitation about him. He did want her. That was for sure. But something felt wrong. Wrong on his part. “Thanks again, for inviting me” He says, sitting beside her and taking the glass in his hand. Riley took a drink from hers “I find you interesting. I want to know more about you, Hobie Brown” she says before licking the liquor from her lips. “Is that so?” Hobie scoffed, leaning back into his seat and resting his elbows on the backing of the couch. “Well, whaddya wanna know?” he asked, cocking his head towards her.

“For starters” She says, taking another drink. “I like that cute little accent of yours… Where are you from?” She asks, placing her elbow on the backing of the couch behind her and turning her body towards Hobie, almost as an invitation for him to come closer. “I’m from London, silly” He replies, taking downing the whiskey to settle the thoughts of doubt and impropriety racing through his mind. He set the glass down on the coffee table. “Obviously, what part” Riley took another sip and swirled the glass in her hand. “Camden, yeh” he responds, leaning back further into the couch. “What about you…Riley Santana? You Spanish?”  He asked, kicking up his feet. “I speak Spanish, sure” Riley chuckled. “So where ya from, Santana?” Hey pried. “Mexican on my dad’s side, Puerto Rican on my moms” Riley replied, downing the rest of her drink. “Ah~ Well go on then. Speak some Spanish for me” His lips curled at the end to reveal a sly smirk. He was getting progressively more flirtatious as the few drinks he’d had kicked in. “Hmmm… well what do you want me to say?” She asked, leaning a bit closer. “I dunno, darlin” he scooted closer, now just ever so slightly slouched beneath her arm. “Tell me somethin’ sexy”. He followed his comment up with a chuckle. Hobie’s comment prompted her to let out a little laugh. Hobie laughed as well. “Go on then” he repeated, looking up at her. “Mmmm” She groaned, moving a piece of hair from his face. “Quiero que me hagas tuya hasta que pierda la conciencia” Riley looked down at him with a smirk, following it up with a small giggle. “I liked the sound of that, what does it mean?” Hobie adjusted himself in his seat, moving his head onto her thighs and his feet onto the armrest of the couch. “Uhhh… You want another drink?” Riley asked, her face flushing red. She wasn’t prepared to answer that question. “Come on!” Hobie shook her a bit playfully. “Tell me~” He whined, lying back down on her thighs. “No!” Riley moaned. “Why? Why would you say something in that tone and not tell me what it is? You shy?” Hobie teased, gazing up at her red face. Riley breathed a sigh. “It means…” She leaned down to whisper in his ear as if they were in a room full of people when, in fact, it was just the two of them. She whispered the meaning in English and Hobie’s face flushed with heat. “I want you to make me yours until I lose consciousness” She said softly into his ear. “You’re a proper little minx, innit” He tongued his cheek a bit as she sat back up. “You told me to say something sexy” Riley smiled devilishly down at the boy on her lap. “Yeah I wasn’t expectin’ that to come out of that pretty little mouth of yours” Hobie teased. Riley laughed and shook her head. “Hmmm~ well. You got what you wanted” She leaned back into the couch. “Yeah, I guess I did…” He smiled. “Come on… say somethin’ else” He poked at her a bit, getting a touchier. “No!” She said in a stern but playful manner. “Come on, don’t make me beg” He asked, tilting his head towards her stomach. “You get one… maybe I’ll say something else later if you’re lucky” She pet his hair softly. “So, want another drink?” She asked. Hobie groaned and sat up. He did want another, but he also didn’t want to get up. “Sure” he said, looking over. “Whiskey?” She asked as she stood from the couch. Hobie’s stomach felt warm and so did his face. “Yeah” He nodded before she poured another two drinks for him and herself. She brought them over and set them on the coffee table before taking a drink out of her own glass.

“So” Hobie said, picking up the glass and lifting it to his lips. “So… did ya mean it?” He asked, taking a sip. “Mean what?” Riley asked, swallowing the fiery liquid. “What you said in Spanish” Hobie asked, taking another drink of his own. Riley’s face grew flush again before she took another sip. “Why’dyou ask?” She asked, slurring a little as her tongue grew numb from the alcohol. She had a few at the bar and the two she had added on to those were starting to take effect. She sat beside him assuming her original position. He did the same placing his head on her lap. “Because I’d be happy to oblige you in your request” He smirks before taking another drink of his whiskey. “Is that so?” Riley took a sip of her own drink. “Yeh, I wanna see what you’re all about, Miss Santana” Riley couldn’t get enough of how he said her name. She could listen to him say it for hours in his accent. “Hmmm” She moaned softly, petting his hair. “I think you’ve had a bit too much” She quips, looking down at Hobie. Hobie looked back up at her and smiled. “Maybe I have, doesn’t change my intentions” He says. “This is quite the indecent proposal…” Riley chuckled, cocking her head to the side.