Caged Love

Going out loses a lot of its lustre as one gets older.

Sitting at the bar, cocktail in hand, Miranda can’t help but wish she was back home; comfortably snug without loud, weird music reverberating her brain. Unfortunately for her, a promise is a promise, and Ella wouldn’t forgive her if she left early or, God forbid, not turn up at all.

She watches her from across the bar as Ella flits between groups of people like a dancer, leaving behind smiles and laughter in her wake. It’s easy for her to make friends; even with complete strangers. She’s a natural charmer, and funny to boot.

The exact opposite of Miranda, truth be told.

The front doors are thrown open, haloing Ella in the dimming evening light. Miranda looks over curiously as a group of men wander in. Judging by all the long hair and ripped jeans, they’re a band that some flavour of alternative. They’re cheering, celebrating something; their smiles so wide they look almost comical.

Amongst the sea of office workers and tradies, the band stands out like a sore thumb. Ella’s eyes snap to them the moment they cross the threshold of the bar, wide with excitement. Within seconds, she managers to trap the five men in an endless conversation loop.

‘Good luck getting out of that one,’ she thinks, watching one of the men unsuccessful try and detangle himself to get to the bar. She lifts her drink to her lips in solidarity, but finds the glass empty, having finished it all without noticing.

With a dramatic sigh, she turns her back on the band and starts looking for her favourite bartender, and close friend, Apollo. The possibility of facing the night sober is simply too much to handle, and he’s the only one who makes her drinks anywhere near strong enough. ‘Friends and family discount,’ he calls it whenever he dumps an extra shot in her drinks.

Unfortunately, Apollo is not there. Miranda leans over the bar slightly, looking around for him. When she does not find him, she settles back in her chair, wondering if he’s run out the back for a quick smoke.

“Looks like you need another drink”

The man materialises beside her in a cloud of excessive cologne. ‘Urgh, what happened to two to five sprays,’ she thinks to herself, as it threatens to give her a headache. He is completely unaware as he smiles at her through a haze of alcohol fuelled confidence. Nose blind to the cologne. Visually blind to her disinterest.

“Seems I do,” she smiles sweetly, waving down a different bartender. She orders her usual – an Old Fashioned – and does her best to avoid further conversation with the intruder. It doesn’t work, because the moment the bartender brings over the EFTPOS, his card finds its way atop it.

“My treat.” He pays for the drink with a wave of plastic, brushing past her as he does so.

She instinctually leans back with a faint grimace, looking up at him for half a second. The dreadful, horrible flicker of recognition appears in his eyes. Miranda’s stomach drops, but it all but falls out her ass when she hears him utter that one hideous name.

“Maxine?” he stammers. “Holy shit, are you the Maxine?”

“You must be getting me mixed up with someone else.” She averts her gaze, staring deep into her cocktail and wishing she could drown in it. Maxine is dead. Gone. Why do people keep insisting on dredging her back up at every opportunity?

“No, you’re definitely her!” He stares at her with the intense, reverent desire that she’d once adored. Now, all it did was make her uncomfortable. “Mistress Maxine! I couldn’t take two steps out my house without seeing your face plastered everywhere.”

Miranda shrinks back in her chair, anxiety churning in her gut. Her grip on her glass is so tight that her knuckles go white as paper. “That’s not… that’s not me.” ‘Not anymore…’

“Raaaaandy!” Ella’s voice is a life raft in a churning sea. Miranda’s eyes find her at once, the familiar cheery face and brown ringlets dancing across the bar towards her. As she closes the small gap between them, she leans in close to her ear, dropping her voice low. “I got you.” She winks before linking arms and returning to her usual loud, gregarious self. “There you are Randy! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

She turns to the man, now confused. “Sorry to interrupt! I just have to introduce Randy to my new friends. They’re TikTok famous!”

The man rolls his eyes. For once, Miranda finds herself grateful for that app. It melts away; however, when she gets dragged into meeting Ella’s ‘famous’ friends.

The band members are young, mid to late twenties at most, and dressed very… interesting. ’80’s hair metal meets whatever is currently trending on social media,’ thinks Miranda to herself, ‘well, it’s certainly… unique.’

Their hair is varying degrees of long or permed, one long and permed, and they wear far too many accessories. Still, even with the various fashion faux pas, Miranda can’t deny she feels more at ease around them. If they recognize her, they don’t draw any attention to it. Not to mention that they seem almost as awkward as she is.

All except for one, at least.

He’s the tallest of them, and broad shouldered under his oversized denim jacket. He has a nose ring (how juvenile!) but… it somehow complements him all the same. And silly, overly long hair. Nice hair really. Very soft looking. And a pretty light-brown colour too…

“Randy, are you listening?”

Ella puts her hands on her broad hips, scolding her with a playful smile. “As I was saying… This is Miranda, my best friend in the whole world. And Miranda, these are-

“I’m Jay.” Interrupts the tall one. He takes a step towards her and holds out his hand. Miranda looks down her nose at it, before looking up into his eyes with a faint wrinkle of her nose. How rude, to just presume she wanted to know his name. To think that she would care. He clearly thinks far too highly of himself.

And yet… she gives him her hand all the same, though not without a firm, solid squeeze.

“Pleasure,” she says, a little sharply. Because for a moment, when he smiles that cocky, self-assured smile, her mind can’t help but drift to all the ways she could wipe it off his face. And when she lets go of his hand, and he takes a step back towards his bandmates, she can’t deny the electric prickle of pleasure that rushes down her spine at seeing him struggle to look her in the eye.

“Anyway…” Ella continues, clearly confused by their exchange. “That’s Jay. And this is Chris, Mike, and Taylor. And the big man himself, of course - Joe. You remember Joe, Randy?”

“Oh, yeah… sure. Of course I remember Joe,” murmurs Miranda.

She couldn’t tell Joe apart from any other balding old man. But Jay, with his stupid hair, and his stupid nose ring, and his stupid, shy smile. He was going to be seared into the back of her eyelids for a long, long time.

They continue chatting, and Miranda desperately tries to ignore the simmering sparks. Occasionally, when the sparks grow too restless, she allows herself to steal a peek at him. To her annoyance every time she does, she finds him staring back at her with intensity.

She bids her time, waiting for the inevitable moment Ella and the group dispersed for the dancefloor, the bar, the bathroom. It didn’t really matter where they went, really. Just as long as they were anywhere other than here.

They scatter, and she turns to find Jay lingering alongside her, just as she hoped he would.

“Aren’t you going to dance?” she asks him cooly.

“No. But I wouldn’t mind a drink.” He takes a step towards the bar, turning ever so slightly to face her, that cocky smirk playing on his lips again. “What’s your poison?”

He’s so obnoxiously confident that he just assumes she’s going to join him. The most infuriating part of all is that he’s right! Because she wants nothing more than to learn more about this strange, annoying, fascinating man.

“Your shout?” she asks sweetly.

He breaks into a smile, genuine this time. “Of course!”

“You should know, I have very expensive taste.” She walks ahead of him, taking her time to look up at him.

“Good thing I just got a record deal,” he smirks, the braggart.

She holds his gaze. He holds it back. For a while, at least. The moment she brushes past his arm, he loses his nerve and turns away with a nervous smile.

Words alone cannot describe how much it pleases her.

They make their way to the two empty seats left at the bar. Curious glances are thrown their way, whispers tittering between gossiping onlookers. Miranda doesn’t notice them this time. How could she, when he steals all her attention?

“Oh, hey Randy. I was wondering where you went.”

Relief washes though her at seeing Apollo behind the bar. He’s one of Miranda’s closest friends, as well as Ella’s older brother. He and Ella are some of the only people who knew Miranda before the fame, and stuck by her side through her downfall.

His eyes flit between Miranda and Jay, a knowing smile spreading on his face. He raises an eyebrow as he meets her eye, as if to say: ‘Him? Really?’ Miranda shrugs nonchalantly, and Apollo chuckles, his long earring catching the dim light.

He turns to Jay with a smile. “What are you having?”

“Whiskey and coke.” How original.

He mixes the drink quickly, and Jay pays with a wave of his phone. His ratty old phone, with a smashed-up screen and faded stickers on the back. Fifteen dollars go down the drain, but Jay seems happy enough to spend them. He takes the drink, sipping away at it pleased.

Apollo then turns to Miranda, knowing the song and dance that’s to follow. “And for you?”

“What do you recommend?” she asks sweetly.

“You should try my favourite cocktail: Caged Love,” he responds, even sweeter.

“What’s it like?”

“Lifechanging.”

A smile pulls at the corner of Miranda’s lips. “That sounds wonderful.”

Behind the counter, he puts on a grand show of mixing multiple liquors from old, fancy bottles. Jiggers full, until the glass is near overflowing with a sickly, neon pink drink. He then he tops it off with a gold leaf, a paper straw, and a candied orange.

The EFTPOS machine is thrust in front of Jay once more. “That will be five hundred dollars.”

Jay nearly chokes on his drink. For a moment she feels a little guilty at his expression: his brows furrowed with confusion. Jay stares down into his drink before looking back at her out the corner of his eye. Searching. Seeking something. If she’s worth it, perhaps. Miranda’s almost certain he’s going to decline to pay.

To her surprise, he pulls out his phone once more. He taps away at it, transferring money in his bank app, and then reaches his phone out towards Apollo. All the while maintaining that maddeningly cocky, confident smirk.

“I really hope it’s as good as you say!”

Apollo laughs, taking the machine away before he has a chance to pay. “I’m only messing with you. This drink is on the house. It’s just pink lemonade and bitters.”

“Oh, right,” laughs Jay awkwardly.

He doesn’t quite manage to hide his relief at not having to spend so much, but it doesn’t matter. It was never about money. It was about entitlement. Was he going to waste her time, or was he the type to take things seriously? How much was he willing to invest, if anything at all, before receiving anything back?

“I’ll be honest,” he admits somewhat shyly once Apollo is distracted by another customer. “That five hundred was next week’s rent and groceries. I haven’t gotten the money from the record company yet.”

Seems the answer to that was: ‘quite a lot’.

“You should have let me pay, then,” she smiles, curious once more.

He takes a sip of his drink thoughtfully. “How about you meet me again next week, and you can pay for dinner instead.”

Miranda lifts the straw to her lips, regarding him over her drink. She’d promised herself that this would never happen again. That she would never be so foolish as to return to her old life. But sitting there at the bar, talking with him, makes her ache for it.

She puts the drink down, gathering her thoughts. He passed her test, but… she may not pass his. What if he is not be interested in the kind of relationship she has to offer?

“I would like to, but…” She starts softly, knowing the conversation that follows is always bound to be at least a little awkward. Even more so now, after so many years of being out of practice. “I want to be straightforward with you. The kind of relationships I have. Well, they’re a little unusual…”

He smiles into his drink, cheeks flushing red as a tomato. “I… I know. I recognised you.” He clears his throat, looking around the bar for eavesdroppers before dropping his voice low. “I had a huge crush on you when I was in high school. Had your poster and everything,” he stares at his drink, as though horrified at how honest it’s made him.

Miranda laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. She’d nearly forgotten about the posters, though she sold truckloads of them. For some reason, hearing Jay talk about them, about ‘Maxine’, doesn’t unsettle her the way others do when talking about her past.

In a strange way, it makes her feel nostalgic for it.

“Anyway,” he continues with a shy smile, “I… share your unusual interests.”

Just when she thought he could not intrigue her more, he goes and does so again. So many questions burn on her lips, so many things she wants to know. But now is not the time and place for such discussions. “Meet me at The Ember. Friday. 7pm.” She swirls her drink, the ice clinking against the glass. “We can discuss further, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll see you there,” he says softly, his eyes locked on hers.