He’d imagined this meeting going several different ways. In one scenario, Bobby had begged his forgiveness. In another, he shook his head and smiled at the foolish mess they’d left behind them. In yet a third, they met at a singalong and joined voices, just like they would at other streetcorners, in other years, in better times. Revenge and happiness comingled in his desires frequently, which explained his whole life up to this point nicely.
Instead, he sees Bobby in the front seat of a Beamer, driving west on Sunset, headed to the better part of town. He doesn’t bother to look over – to see he’s doing fine, too, to realize that the lover he’d discarded had a record deal and a clean shirt. Bobby looks like an alien, compared to the man who wore cheap shoes and even cheaper jeans when they were together.
Instead there’s a moment, a second of centering energy. A rev of the engine – perhaps because he’s visible in his rear-view.
Bobby is smiling as he peels away. And damn it, even with a meeting to get to that’ll decide his whole music career ahead of him, when he pulls away from Bobby he’s grinning too.