Songs To Sing- John Frusciante

15

December 24, 1991

Pencey

After what happened, I always walk around with $350 in my pocket. Even around the suburbs, where there weren't many alleys except for the dead end next to the house, which only housed a pay phone. It was our only way to call anyone, as we were still trying to set up a phone line, the only thing we hadn't fixed.

That was how much I probably owed him, though. $350. Not much, but still, enough to warrant him showing up at any moment.

I was almost asleep on the bed when I felt John shift beneath me. I slid my eyes open, seeing that whatever stupid Christmas movie that was on the TV had stopped playing.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting something." He shuffled into the other bedroom, our makeshift studio, letting me get a good look at the time off of the clock next to the bed. 11:48. Nearly release day. It was terrifying, knowing something with only your work would be released to the world in less than 12 hours.

John came back into the room, a small box clutched in his hand. "What the hell is that?" I asked. He smiled deviously. "John?"

"Just open it. You'll know."

And sure enough, I did. A ring with a tiny little diamond in it. It couldn't have cost much, but it still made me want to get up and run out of the house, sobbing. Thankfully, I had self-control now. "Is this-"

"Mhm. I really want to stay with you forever. Do all of that stupid stuff couples do."

"Shut up."

"What?" I pulled myself closer to him, burying my face in my neck to hide how red it was getting. His strong arms snaked around my waist, holding me close. "You never answered me, Spencer."

"Yes, Frusciante. I will wear this stupid ass ring. And I'll wear another one, too. Soon."

He kissed the side of my neck, then pulled me back, planting a more passionate one on my lips. He felt so warm, so comforting. He even let me sit in his lap while he slid the ring on my finger. "How did you know my ring size?"

"Lucky guess."

I chuckled. "I'm gonna go out back for a moment. Take a smoke, and call Dave. Tell him. He'll be so excited, baby."

"I love you."

"I love you more." I kissed him again before grabbing our shared pack of cigarettes off the nightstand, taking one last look at him before closing the door behind me. I skipped down the stairs two at a time, looking at my hand at each break in the stories. The gold of the band complimented my skin so well.

The front door swung open easily, and it was chilly for Los Angeles. I pulled my shirt closer to my body, flicking my lighter as I took a cigarette from the pack with my lips. I dialed Dave's number easily, taking a drag as I waited for him to pick up.

"Spencer McAdams. You're a hard girl to find, you know that?"

I looked up at the phone ahead of me, feeling all the color drain from my body. I hung up the phone, turning around slowly. There was the lanky figure, the hair I had dreaded.

"Hello, Trey."

"You took something from me, sweetheart."

"I have your money." I fished around in the pocket of my sweatpants, fingers grazing the bills before he stopped me, my hand flying to my wrist.

He held on so tight that I thought I was going to lose circulation. "I don't give a damn about the money. I just thought I'd pay you a visit." His eyes bored into mine, scaring me shitless. This was the scariest I'd ever seen a dealer, ever. No one had ever done this to me, in all of my years of using. "You're starting to get skinny. What I've given you is taking its toll on you, hmm?"

"I, um..." I stuttered, not knowing what to say. "I guess so."

"Do you steal from everyone you deal with?"

I scoffed, trying to lighten the mood. Trying to get out of this alive. "Let's just say you aren't particularly unique in this situation."

I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. I should not have said that.

"Well, McAdams, I'm about to make a lot of people very happy, then."

"By doing what?"

"This."

Before I could even move from my spot by the phone booth, he had raised something dark and metallic, and I heard the loudest noise I'd ever heard.

And then I was in the most pain I'd ever been in.

He was gone, off and running before I could even process what had happened, and I looked down. Crimson was seeping through the left side of John's Black Flag t-shirt, staning so fast that I could see it running. I thought it was a joke, genuinely. I was waiting to wake up, but it never happened.

I stumbled into the phone booth, sliding down the side, a streak of red from my hand following me down. John, please. John. John, I love you. Don't let me die like this. Alone in the alley outside of our first apartment. We didn't even get to live a life together.

I looked down at the ring on my hand, and how the diamond had turned red.

It's so cold out here, John.