Brandon Scott Gorrell

There is hair at the ChaCha that hangs to the shoulders of males, and at its front it is parted so it covers an eye. There is hair that reaches backs; it can be observed flowing in elegant tangles. There is hair parted at the middle and held in place by red, white and blue sweatbands, as in popular alternative films of this time. Hair here is also short and disordered, fastened by gels and waxes. Hair comes from faces in the form of moustaches and beards. Each male perceives his hair as an intelligent and unique variation on the style in which his hair generally falls. They detect identity-affirming differences in the hair of other males when their hairs fall within the same style. Female hair here is groomed for the purpose of mating. It is cut short at the bangs, the rest flat and straight on the right and left sides, waving at the shoulders. It is layered, straightened and cut around the face in oval shapes. Heavy bangs are smoothed and brought to the right to project an image of drama. They are all under the age of thirty, laughing and pressing their bodies against each other while consuming alcoholic beverages. They wear black vests with patches and ripped jeans. Their t-shirts are worn tight and there are different styles. There are cowboy boots and black slip-ons and Nikes and Converse. There are accessories. There are cell phones. As Jeffrey moves through them, he attempts to communicate that he is not alone; that he is meeting someone; that he is only temporarily alone.
     “Excuse me,” Jeffrey says.
     Walking toward the bathroom, Jeffrey has the urge to take the microphone from the singer of the band and confirm, with everyone in the bar, that no one thinks he is a piece of shit.
     “Excuse me,” Jeffrey says.
     Jeffrey makes fleeting, disinterested-looking eye-contact with people. They also seem disinterested. He touches his hair. He moves it. He shakes his head. He brings his hair to the right. He smoothes it, pressing against his forehead with his palm.
     “Sorry,” Jeffrey says.
     Jeffrey plans on walking another direction once he reaches the bathroom. “Are your bangs doing that wavy thing,” he thinks. “Guard against the wavy thing.”
     “Excuse me,” Jeffrey says.
     Jeffrey reaches the bathroom. He turns around and begins walking the direction from which he came. He walks to the bar. He chooses an open position next to a girl, who is wearing oversized red eyeglass frames, a pink Kennedy shirt, white skinny jeans and a pair of shiny gold flats. He points his face at the bartender and looks at the girl without moving his face. The bartender looks at him.
     “Do you take credit cards,” Jeffrey says. The girl moves a little.
     “Oh sorry,” Jeffrey says at high volume.
     The girl shakes her head, smiling and pointing at Jeffrey.
     Jeffrey turns his face toward the girl.
     “You go,” Jeffrey says.
     “Which one,” the bartender says.
     The bartender points at Jeffrey and the girl with the index fingers on each hand.
     “I don’t know,” Jeffrey says. He looks at the liquor bottles behind the bartender.
     “What,” the bartender says.
     “Do you take credit cards,” Jeffrey says.
     “Ten dollar minimum,” the bartender says.
     “Can I have a Pabst,” Jeffrey says.
     The bartender moves away.
     Jeffrey looks at the girl.
     “Sorry,” Jeffrey says.
     The girl smiles, lifts her hand, and presses her index finger into Jeffrey’s temple, the pressure hard enough to make his head move.
     “Ow,” Jeffrey says.
     The bartender gives Jeffrey the Pabst and he gives the bartender his credit card. He walks away from the bar and sees Lauren in the crowd in front of the stage. She is wearing a maroon and yellow button-down open over a loose-fitted graphic t-shirt that says “BIG SAVINGS,” blue skinny jeans that have been converted into shorts and a pair of black Reebok ExoFit hi-tops with neon orange laces. He moves next to her. He says “Hi” and smiles. She says “Hi” and smiles. She introduces him to her friends, Cameron and Richard and Hannah. They all look at each other, uttering small, salutatory things. They stop looking at each other. They turn toward the stage and look at the band. It is composed of a male and a female. They are sitting in plastic chairs on the stage. The male is playing an acoustic guitar very hard. His face is severe and yelling something. It seems like crying. The female is singing. “This band fucking sucks,” Jeffrey thinks. Most people directly in front of the band are pointing their faces toward the band and rarely looking elsewhere. Many have drinks in their hands. A group of people to the left of the stage form a circle. They lean close to each others’ faces to speak and then repeat what they said to others in the circle. A tall male in the circle lifts a pointed finger to the ceiling. He brings it down forcefully. Everyone in the circle begins chugging beer. A person nearby uses a digital camera three times on two people who make their faces look more excited than they looked before they saw the digital camera. Voices can be heard behind Jeffrey, emanating from the bar area. A short female is seen falling, hard, and being helped up by people that yell and laugh.
     “I feel uncomfortable,” Jeffrey says to Lauren. She turns to him and smiles.
     “I love this band,” Lauren yells. She screams a little. Jeffrey nods as he turns his face toward the band. There is a large African-American person with a bald head. He focuses on the head. Hannah turns toward him. She is holding a digital camera in front of her face. Lauren puts her arm around his waist and he tries to make his face do something. The flash goes off. Hannah holds the digital camera in front of her face again. Lauren puts her arm around his shoulder and leans in front of him, making a face, and he tries to make his face do something. The flash goes off. Hannah looks at the display of her digital camera. She puts the digital camera in her bag and looks at the band. He turns to the band, smiles, and nods his head to the sound of the music. He drinks his beer.
     After the band finishes, Lauren shows Jeffrey a text message from Richard that indicates that he is vomiting somewhere outside of the ChaCha. They all walk outside. They find Richard lying in a fetal position on the sidewalk next to a dumpster. Lauren and Hannah try to pick him up. Richard says that he wants to stay on the ground next to the dumpster

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