Bright Side

by Kim Holden

  Shelly’s smile widens as he walks away. “Interesting.”

  Twenty minutes later, a pitcher of beer and a pepperoni pizza are delivered to our table followed by a cheese pizza with twenty blazing candles. Shelly, Keller, and Duncan immediately break into a pretty good rendition of Happy Birthday. I don’t like being the center of attention, but it feels good to know I have such thoughtful friends.

  Saturday, October 29

  (Kate)

  Coffee. I definitely need coffee. I was out with Keller, Shelly, and Duncan late last night. I didn’t drink, but I had trouble sleeping. I’m going to need a big dose of caffeine to jump start my day. Rook’s concert is tonight and they’ll be here early afternoon. I need to wake up.

  There are a few people in line when I get to Grounds. Romero salutes and smiles at me as he takes money from a man in a suit. Keller’s behind the bar with his back to me. I don’t think he’s noticed me yet when he takes an order from the brunette at the front of the line. She flirts. He doesn’t. I laugh quietly to myself. God, I never really noticed it before, but Duncan was right; girls try so hard with him. He catches my eye and winks. It’s subtle. If I wouldn’t have been staring at him I wouldn’t have noticed. I wasn’t the only one who noticed it seems. Someone else is staring. The brunette tosses her hair over her shoulder and scowls at me. And for one moment I feel a primal urge rise within me, a need to claim him somehow. I fight the overwhelming need to leap over the counter and kiss him senseless. But then I remember he isn’t mine. The urge passes and I’m left wondering what the hell just happened.

  Finally it’s my turn. Keller pats Romero on the arm. “Can you get Katie’s coffee, Rome? Large. Black. I’ll be right back.” He runs toward the door to his apartment. “And I’ll pay for it, don’t take her money,” he calls back as he opens the door. He’s back before Romero has the lid on and waves me to the other end of the counter, then walks around from behind it. He hands me a small envelope. Happy Birthday Katie is written on it. It’s messy, boy handwriting. Maybe he should be a doctor instead of a lawyer. “Happy Birthday, Katie,” Keller says, smiling.

  “Keller. What is this, birthday week? This isn’t necessary. You took me out for dinner last night, remember?”

  He shrugs. “That was from all of us.” He smiles sweetly. “This is from me.”

  I open it. It’s a twenty-dollar gift card to Grounds. “Thanks. It’s perfect.” Thinking back to our conversation a few weeks ago at the flower shop, I add, “Is this blackmail or bribery?”

  “Neither. It’s insurance.”

  “Insurance?”

  “Yeah. That’s twelve cups of coffee. Twelve trips to Grounds. Twelve chances to see you.” He’s wearing this cute, boyish smile. He’s clean shaven again, giving him an irresistibly youthful look.

  I hug him, kiss him on the cheek, and whisper in his ear before he lets me go, “Insurance sounds a lot like bribery.” Then I pull away so I can look him in the eyes. “You don’t need to bribe me, you know? I like hanging out with you. Thank you.”

  I expect his crooked smile, but his expression is still sweet and sincere. “You’re welcome. I like hanging out with you, too, Katie.” He gestures to the counter behind him. “Listen, I’d better get back to work, but I’ll see you tonight. Can’t wait for the concert.”

  “Rook’s gonna kill it tonight.” I wink as I walk backward away from him and toward the door. “Prepare yourself appropriately.”

  He laughs as he salutes. “Will do.”

  Gus texts a little after 2:00: I’m here! We’re at the venue

  Me: Be there in 10 minutes

  I grab my bag from my bed and I’m on a flat-out run for my car. I’m checking my pockets for my car keys as I run down the steps to the parking lot when I see him leaning against the driver’s door of my car. I run faster and the huge grin on his face is infectious. He scoops me up in a hug and spins around, my feet flying high above the ground. I love Gus’s hugs. He’s so big, I get lost in his arms.

  He sets me down and takes my face in his hands. “I can’t believe it’s really you, Bright Side. Skype is such a half-ass substitute for the real thing.”

  I agree. I smile and touch his hair. “You look good.”

  He shakes his head and then nods toward the building behind me. “So, this is your dorm?”

  I nod.

  “Then, by all means, give me the tour. I need to meet these characters you call friends. I don’t have to be back for soundcheck until five o’clock.”

  We stop by Clay and Pete’s room first. Clayton’s in Minneapolis with Morris, but Pete’s here. He’s polite but timid at first until he and Gus talk for a few minutes, at which point he loosens up. Well, as much as Pete can loosen up, anyway. I tell Pete that Gus is in town for the show (and leave out that he is the show). Gus asks him where he’s from, what his major is, and how he likes Minnesota. I think Pete’s a little surprised by all the questions and by the fact that Gus is actually listening to his answers with interest. When I tell Gus we’d better let Pete go, Gus’s eyes fall on a framed photo of Pete and Evelyn on the desk next to him and a wicked gleam flashes in his eyes. I don’t like it. I’ve seen it before too many times. He’s up to no good.

  He picks up the frame. “This your girl, Pete?”

  “Yes, her name’s Evelyn,” he confirms with a dimpled smile.

  Gus sets the frame back down. “Cute couple. Tell me, does she like cowboys, Pete?”

  “Cowboys?” His eyebrows pinch together at the odd question.

  “Chaps, maybe?” Gus pushes.

  Oh shit, he’s going there.

  Pete shrugs. “I don’t know.” He’s confused.

  Gus leans in like he’s sharing top-secret information, but he never lowers his voice, “Dude, a word of advice, chicks dig chaps. A little role-playing livens up the bedroom.” He raises an eyebrow and smiles like he’s just done Pete a favor passing this along. “That’s all I’m gonna say.”

  Pete’s face flushes a bright red.

  As I physically push Gus out of the room, I mouth, “I’m sorry,” to Pete.

  Gus calls back loudly over his shoulder, “Food for thought, dude. Food for thought.”

  Pete’s shy smile emerges. “Thanks.”

  I punch Gus’s shoulder as soon as we’re safely behind the closed door of my dorm room. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “What?” he says innocently. Then he bursts out laughing. “I just did the guy a favor. You saw his face when we left. He’s considering it, dude. Evelyn will thank me for it, Bright Side. She’ll fucking thank me.”

  I shake my head. Maybe he’s right.

  Sugar isn’t here, so we can hang out and relax. Gus looks over every inch of the small room with the level of curiosity I’ve only seen in very small children, cats, and Gustov Hawthorne. He’s not nosy or intrusive, but wants to know all the details … intimately. Whether it’s a place, an object, or a woman, they command the kind of attention most people aren’t capable of or don’t take the time to give.

  I walk him around campus and show him where all my classes are. He asks tons of questions about each one. If it were anyone else, I would think I was boring them, but not Gus. He’s interested in everything in my life as much or more than he is in his own. The road goes both ways. It always has. It’s one of the reasons we’ve been best friends so long.

  Our time is drawing to a close so we walk back to my car. “You want some coffee before we head to the auditorium?”

  “Is this the infamous Grounds I always hear about?”

  I nod.

  “Hell yes. I was so excited to see you today that I didn’t sleep much last night. I could use some coffee.”

  I smile. “Me too.”

  The bell thunders on cue as Gus pushes the door open to Grounds. He startles and glares up at it while he holds the door open for me to enter. He ducks down and whispers in my ear, “What the fuck’s with the bell?”

  I laugh and agree. “Right?�
��

  I do a double-take when I turn my attention toward the counter. It’s not Keller or Romero. I’ve never seen this man. He’s got to be in his mid-forties, and he’s very handsome. He’s tall and looks professional, even distinguished. His dark hair is graying at the temples and his dark, serious eyes seem out of place here. His greeting is friendly as he smiles at us. “Welcome to Grounds.”

  And then it hits me. This must be Dan, Romero’s partner. “Dan?”

  He tentatively answers, “Yes.”

  I extend my hand as an introduction. “I’ve heard a lot about you. My name’s Kate.”

  His eyes light up as if he’s made an association. “Keller’s Katie?”

  Gus looks at me as if there’s something he’s missing and I’m looking equally as confused at Dan. “Um, I’m Keller’s friend, yeah.”

  Dan shakes my hand two or three beats past what would be considered normal. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

  I introduce Gus and I can’t help but notice Dan’s a little cold to him.

  I order my usual large, black coffee and Gus orders the same and then predictably proceeds to add about a half cup of sugar to it after it’s handed to him. It makes my teeth hurt every time I watch him do it.

  Gus faces me in the car as we’re buckling our seatbelts. “Bright Side, are you seeing someone?”

  “No. Keller and I are just friends.”

  “Does he know that? Because that dude acted like a father meeting his daughter-in-law to be. It was kinda weird.”

  I tag along with Gus to Grant’s auditorium. After hugs from the other three members of Rook, I sit in on soundcheck. I’m speechless. Playing every night for the past month has been good for them. They sound flawless. When we were all in San Diego I used to hang out at their band rehearsals a lot. They were always working on new material and refining their sound, but that didn’t stop them from messing around with covers. And I always got to sing the covers, because it was like karaoke with a live band. So it makes me happy when Gus asks, “You up for one song, Bright Side?”

  I look around at the band and they’re all smiling at me. It feels like just another rehearsal despite the expanse of the empty auditorium we’re standing in. With the band, it feels intimate and safe. I can’t hide my smile. “What are you playing?”

  Franco’s twirling his drumstick between his fingers. I don’t even think he realizes he does it—it’s idle habit. “I vote for ‘Sex.’”

  “The act or the song?” I tease.

  He rubs his chin like he’s thinking about it, “Can I say both?”

  Gus is adjusting the microphone down for me while I climb up on stage with them. “No, you can’t. And we’re not playing ‘Sex,’” he says.

  “Why not?” I ask. “That’s a great song. You like The 1975.”

  Gus smiles and shakes his head before he looks back over his shoulder at Franco. “Because, Bright Side, think about it. Franco’s got ulterior motives. You singing that song would be—“

  Franco’s nodding and grinning ear to ear when he interrupts. “Girl on girl.”

  Gus shakes his head. “She isn’t singing with us just to fuel your fantasies, dickhead.”

  Franco laughs good-naturedly. He shrugs. “I had to try.”

  Gus is switching out his guitar. “Let’s do ‘Panic Switch.’”

  He knows I love that song. The whole band does. Like all of Silversun Pickups’ best songs, this one is controlled chaos. If you dissect the song and listen to the drums, bass, guitar, and vocals all separately, it sounds like four completely different songs. Put them together and it’s genius. “Hell yes, I’m in.”

  After Gus messes with his effects pedals, he kicks off the song and just like that it’s on. It feels good to let loose and sing again. Plus, everyone’s into it. I sing and dance around the stage like it’s just the five of us in Gus’s basement. They sound so good.

  I text Keller, Shelly, Clayton, and Pete when we’re done to let them know I’ll meet them at the show before I squeeze the band into my car and take them to Minneapolis for dinner before the show. The options in Grant are limited. The show starts at 9:00 so we have plenty of time to eat, drink (I’m the driver, so I stick with water) and catch up on lost time. Things haven’t changed a bit. Jamie is still the sweet one, Franco is still the flirtatious, sarcastic one, and Robbie is still the quiet one. Friendship with them, especially Franco, has always come easily. It’s natural and comfortable. We respect and support each other.

  I take a minute during our drive back to Grant to have them weigh in on a topic of contention. “Guys, I have a question for you. Am I a bad driver?”

  Gus’s neck snaps to look directly at me from the passenger seat. There’s shock in his eyes. But before he can open his mouth it’s Franco’s voice I hear from behind me. “Define bad.”

  “I don’t know, dude. Dangerous. Do you feel like your life is in peril with me behind the wheel?”

  It’s Gus’s turn. “There’s nothing wrong with your driving. Who told you that? I taught you how to drive, remember?”

  I wave my finger in the air as I dismiss him. “And that is exactly why you’re biased. Zip it, you don’t get to answer the question.” I glance in my rearview mirror at my three backseat passengers. “Guys?”

  Jamie’s grinning back at me. “Why are you asking?”

  I glance at the road quickly before I lock eyes with him in the mirror again. “Someone may have voiced a fairly strong level of concern after riding with me.”

  Robbie laughs next to Jamie and says, “What Kate’s trying to say is that she scared the hell out of a passenger.”

  I smile a guilty smile. “Or two.”

  Gus starts in, “That’s bullsh—,” but I cut him off by raising my finger in the air between us again. He slumps back against his seat.

  Franco bumps the back of my seat with his knee hard enough that I feel it. “Don’t sweat it, Kate. They’re pussies. You’re a fast, aggressive driver. Nothing wrong with that. Next topic please.”

  I can see Gus smiling out of the corner of my eye. The validation in that smile alone makes me feel better.

  (Keller)

  I can’t lie. I was disappointed when I received the text from Katie saying she’d meet us at the show tonight. We never discussed it, but I’d assumed that we would all hang out before the show and then ride over together. And now I’ve lost that time with her. I look forward to every minute I get to spend with her. Every minute of every day wouldn’t be enough.

  But, I was crushed when I went to Grounds to grab a cup of coffee around 6:00, and Dan told me that Katie was here earlier. And that she was here with some guy. He couldn’t remember his name but said he was tall and muscular with blond hair. The description didn’t ring any bells. I pressed him and he said, “I’m sorry.” Good news never starts with “I’m sorry.” He said they looked very comfortable with each other. That he had his arm around her when they walked out of Grounds and he kissed her on the forehead before they got in the car. Shit! Why didn’t I just tell her how I felt about her? Now she’s with someone else. Or maybe she’s been with him all along. I knew I shouldn’t have opened up my heart to her. She’s going to break me in two. I’ve known it since the moment I laid eyes on her. She’d never hurt anyone intentionally, but it’s inevitable … it will happen. It’s my own damn fault. Still, this feeling sucks. And I know it’s irrational but I’m pissed at her, too. There’s no way I’m going to that show tonight.

  After I make my nightly call home to Chicago, I go straight for the only bottle of liquor we have in the apartment: tequila. Tequila is a fantastic distraction, and it numbs terrifically. I know because by the time Dunc and Shel come by to pick me up at 8:30 the bottle’s empty and I’m willingly on my way to the concert I swore a few hours ago I would avoid at all costs.

  Shel’s been texting Katie the whole time we’ve been standing in line to get in the auditorium. She relays to Dunc and I that
Katie was having dinner with some old friends that are in town for the show. Yeah, I know she with was out with a friend. That’s why I’m so fucking wasted right now.

  By the time I stagger into the place the band’s taking the stage and the crowd’s going ballistic. After Shel spends some time shouting into her phone to try and locate Katie in the mob, we push our way through hundreds of other college kids to find Katie and a couple of friends of hers. I’ve met Clayton once before when he came into Grounds with Katie, but I don’t recognize anyone else. None of them are tall and blond like Dan described. I exhale the breath I’ve been holding because at least she’s not with him. I don’t want to look at her but I can’t help myself. She’s just as beautiful as every other time I’ve seen her. Her hair is down and messy like it always is. Messy like she’s just crawled out of bed … after having sex. Shit. She has on one of her homemade T-shirts that would look ridiculous on anyone else, but looks perfect on her. It hugs her body in all the right places. This one says I heart San Diego. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. She’s smiling at me like she’s happy to see me. God, how I wish that were true.

  Her small hands grip my bicep and though I’m numb to the physical sensation of most everything else, the contact isn’t lost on me. Her hands are cold like they always are, but my skin warms to her touch.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” she yells in my ear over the music.

  I can’t help myself. “Where’s your friend?” My words are slurred and angry. They don’t sound like my own.

  She pulls back to look at me, stunned. “Are you drunk?”

  “Thoroughly,” I say. “Dan said you were at Grounds this afternoon with a friend.” I wrap the word in air quotes and regret it immediately. Why am I being such a dick? It’s not like we’re together.

  She wraps friend in air quotes when she responds, “My friend is here. You guys will meet him after the show.” She looks hurt and turns her attention back to the stage. After some shuffling she ends up sandwiched with Shel on one side and Clayton on the other. I make sure I’m always directly behind her. She never stands still, so it’s like aiming for a moving target.