He knew that, of course. Was waiting, then,
for Alan to bust him on it. To tell him, *This is your fault, not mine.*
To tell him *If this demo fails, it's because you fucked off and left it
to the last minute.* So he was angry, but not at Alan, he was angry at
himself.
*A bunch of people we don't care about,* what was that about? Ah. Kurt
knew that they didn't take him seriously in the real world. He was too
dirty, too punk-as-fuck, too much of his identity was wrapped up in
being alienated and alienating. But he couldn't make his dream come
true without Alan's help, either, and so Alan was the friendly face on
their enterprise, and he resented that -- feared that in order to keep
up his appearance of punk-as-fuckitude, he'd have to go into the
meeting cursing and sneering and that Alan would bust him on that, too.
Alan frowned at the steering wheel. He was getting better at
understanding people, but that didn't make him necessarily better at
being a person. What should he say here?
"That was a really heroic effort, Kurt," he said, biting his lip. "I can
tell you put a lot of work into it." He couldn't believe that praise
this naked could possibly placate someone of Kurt's heroic cynicism, but
Kurt's features softened and he turned his face away, rolled down the
window, lit a cigarette.
"I thought I'd never get it done," Kurt said.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193