Free Stoner & Spaz by Ron Koertge

a guy with a lot of metal in his face sidles up to Colleen and whispers something.
    She shakes her head. “Not tonight.”
    “C’mon,” he says, “I’ve got the money.”
    “I don’t care if you’ve got an American Express card. I don’t have anything.”
    “Don’t be a bitch.”
    “Fuck you, Vincent. Take a hike.”
    When he just stands there, I step closer. “You heard her. Why don’t you mosey along?”
    He glares down at me but asks Colleen, “Where’s Ed? What are you doing with this loser?”
    Colleen takes hold of my shirt and pulls me into the crowd. “Are you nuts? ‘Why don’t you mosey along?’”
    “I always wanted to say that to somebody. I’ve heard it in about a million Westerns.”
    “Well, I can take care of myself, sheriff. You don’t want to mess with Vincent. He’s mean.”
    I take both of her hands. “What
are
you doing with me?”
    “Don’t get all serious on me, Ben. I’m having a good time.”
    “I’m not getting all serious. I’m just curious.”
    “I’m here, okay? And you’re here. We’re dancing. I’m not doing anything with you except dancing.”
    “But you like me.”
    Colleen takes a deep breath. “Not in the way you mean.”
    “What way, then?”
    “You’ll get mad if I tell you.”
    “No, I won’t.”
    “Guys always say that. Then they get mad.”
    “I won’t. I promise.”
    Colleen glances around. She puts both hands on my shoulders. She leans into me. I like this. If I’m going to get bad news, this is the way to get it. “When I’m with Ed,” she says, “sometimes I end up in a little room in Watts where all the guys have got guns and all the girls hate me because I’m white.
    “But you want to make a movie, you’re worried about getting into college, you like to kiss. When I’m with you, it’s like I’m really in high school.”
    She steps back then. The band plays a few long, ugly chords. The dance floor starts to fill up again.
    “I’m not mad.”
    “Really?”
    “Colleen, it’s true. I
am
in high school. So are you.”
    “So we’re still dancing?”
    “Sure.” Because I’m not going to think about what she said as much as I’m going to think about her leaning into me while she said it.
    So I try dancing again, and I’m actually doing better, actually looking less like somebody with one foot nailed to the floor, when a bare-chested dervish whirls by and I take an elbow to the cheek. I go right down right on my butt.
    “Man!” I feel my face. “What was that all about?”
    “Some fucking mosher.” Colleen crouches beside me. People peer down at me. “C’mon. Get up. I see him.”
    “I’m okay. It’s no big deal.”
    “It’s not okay. Get up and deck that fucker.” She holds out one hand and helps me to my feet.
    “I’ve never decked anybody in my life.”
    “Then it’s about time.”
    “Easy for you to say. If things don’t work out, you can actually flee. I, on the other hand, have a tragic wound from trying to rock climb on my Harley.”
    “He lays one fucking finger on you, I’ll put the hurt on him in a big way.”
    There’s a great word to describe Colleen’s eyes right that second: coruscating. Emitting vivid flashes of light. She emits a few more, then leans into me. And kisses me. “Now let’s go.”
    But we don’t get anywhere near the guy who’d hit me, because Ed slithers out of the dark and right up to Colleen.
    “Hey, I went by your place.”
    Colleen sticks out her tongue at him, like a seven-year-old. Then she dances away, putting a guy in leather pants between them.
    Ed follows her. I follow Ed. We weave through the crowd.
    “I have got some shit you will not believe, Colleen. It’s like one-toke hash but better. Unbelievably smooth. No paranoia, no nothing. It’s gorgeous. You’re gonna love it.”
    Colleen slips between two girls, one in red, the other in green. Like stoplights.
    When Ed turns around and frowns, there I am. He looks me up and down, then asks Colleen,