Unwritten

by Jen Frederick

  I die laughing at her honesty.

  “What do you think of the other bands?” she asks when I get my act together enough to wipe the tears out of my eyes.

  “Besides TA, the other three bands are chaff. They’re fine for filler, but no one’s paying a fee to see them in the future. They’re bar bands, at best. But TA isn’t going anywhere, either.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “How can you say that? They have a hit single.”

  “Exactly. A single.”

  “So this is the beginning of great things for them.”

  I give her a pitying look. “Is that what Man Bun is telling you?”

  “Sort of?”

  I lean forward, elbows on the table. I know things about music. Maybe it’s because I’ve been part of the scene since I was born. Since I was a twinkle in my dad’s testicles, even. But I know music. I know it like I knew Juilliard would bore me to tears. Like how I knew my first two bands were duds. I have an ear or feel for what is going to be successful and what’s not. The best A/R folks in the industry have it, too.

  “Subconsciously, we all like familiar things.” I point to our plates. “We order the same thing every morning. We have our favorite pair of shoes or favorite jeans. We, as a general rule, aren’t fans of change. People want that feeling from their music. They want something that sounds familiar. Did you know that nearly all the songs that have been hits in the last few years have the same chord procession? C, G, A-minor and F. There’s a YouTube video on it. Look it up.”

  “What does that have to do with TA? Their music sounds like what’s played on the radio.”

  “Exactly. TA’s writing music that’s indistinguishable from what’s already out there. They do a good job, and Keith’s a good front man, but his music is uninspired. Have you heard of the band Outkast?”

  “It sounds vaguely familiar.” She makes an embarrassed face. “I’m pretty music dumb.”

  “That’s okay.” Not why I like you, baby. I hum a few lines from “Hey, Ya” for her.

  “Okay, yes. I’ve heard that before.”

  “When that first came on the radio, it was a failure. A total dud. People were changing the station before the first verse was out of Andre 3000’s mouth because it didn’t sound like anything they’d heard before. Radio execs from Arista Records paid to have the single placed between songs from artists like Celine Dion and Smash Mouth to get people to actually listen. Speakerboxx/The Love Below is ranked one of the ten best albums of the 2000s. It changed the music scene. It changed what people wanted to hear.”

  “And you want to do that?”

  I toy with my fork. My personal dreams sound fucking pretentious when I talk about them out loud, but Landry’s inexperience with music makes me more comfortable. Landry has already had her own unbelievable success. Big dreams probably seem normal to her.

  “The Beatles pretty much invented the modern band. They were one of the first who wrote their own music. The Rolling Stones melded blues and rock in a way people hadn’t experienced before. Black Sabbath did for metal what the Stones did for rock. Grandmaster Flash blew them both up with his rhymes and swag.” I point the fork at her. “ Yeah, I could write a hit tomorrow for this band. Use my dad’s connections to get it played on the radio, make a top hundred song, but then what?”

  “I don’t know? One-hit wonder?”

  She takes me seriously in a way that no one really has before, not even my dad who wants me to drop this whole band nonsense and come back home and enjoy the fruits of his labor.

  “One-hit wonder,” I confirm.

  “You aren’t worried that all the best stuff’s already been done?”

  I shake my head. “No. The best songs have yet to be written. They’re out there, waiting for someone to find them.”

  “And you’re it?”

  I study her face and find only earnest interest, not disdain or incredulity over my grand ambitions. “I don’t know if I’m going to find a song like Hallelujah by Cohen or a classic by the Beatles or make a record as incredible as Outkast but I want to try. That’s all I want to do.”

  “You want to change the collective consciousness of people when it comes to music,” she muses thoughtfully. “You want to...Facebook Myspace.”

  See, pretentious but, holy fuck, she gets it. “Something like that. It’s easy to make a hit, Landry. So much harder to last.”

  “And now?”

  “I think it’s going to last.”

  “Because you know things.”

  “I know things.”

  Like I know that Davis is a special kind of talent. Like I know you’re a special kind of person.

  “I know things,” I repeat.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adam

  Tour Stop: Austin

  “Do you guys think those two were sisters?” Rudd asks, stumbling out of his bunk and down the aisle.

  Ian looks up from his cards to stare at our bassist. “No. No one thinks they were sisters.”

  “But they said they were. Why would they lie about that?”

  “Maybe because you said, ‘Are you sisters? I’ve always wanted to have a threesome with sisters.’” I toss in a pack of gum and order Ian to deal me two more. We don’t play for money. Money always has a way of fucking things up.

  So when we do play cards it’s for small shit like gum or mints or cigarettes. Currently the kitty holds two packs of Trident, a joint, and a small package of Oreos. I want those Oreos. The two cards Ian sends my way are perfect.

  “I definitely didn’t say that. Who wants to have a threesome with sisters?” Rudd scoffs, apparently not remembering what he said the other night while drunk. He rummages around the kitchen for something to eat. “That’s incest-ish.”

  “Ish?” Ian asks.

  That’s the correct question. I eye the Oreos. What’s the punishment for stealing from the kitty?

  Ian lays down his four threes.

  I toss my cards at him. “Motherfucker. I had an ace-high full house.”

  “You had your eye on these cookies, didn’t you?” He gloats, pulling the kitty to his side of the table.

  “You know I did. Where’d you get them, anyway?”

  “Part of my goodie bag that Berry packed for me.”

  Ian can be such a fucking smug bastard at times. I pick up the cards and shuffle while Ian directs his attention back to Rudd.

  “Yeah, as long as the sisters don’t touch, there’s no incest,” Rudd explains. “It’s in the dictionary, bros. Look it up.”

  I grin. “I didn’t realize you knew what a dictionary was, let alone how to look anything up.”

  “Fuck you, man. I can use my phone as well as anyone.” He pulls his mobile out of his pocket. “Siri, what’s the definition of incest?”

  “Sexual relations between people classed as being too closely related to marry each other,” the mechanical voice recites.

  Rudd frowns. “Does that mean cousins are out? Because I did cousins at Ian’s family reunion last summer.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Ian says, giving up any pretense that we’re going to finish this hand. “I never had any family reunion.”

  “Sure you did,” Rudd replies, sliding into the booth next to Ian. “Last summer at Festival Park, you were there with Berry and bunch of other folks. There was a shit ton of people and someone made this awesome lemon meringue pie.” He rubs his belly. “Never thought I liked lemon until I had that shit. Anyway, these two brunettes invited me back to their room at the Holiday Inn. Your cousins.”

  “Dude, that wasn’t my family. It was Founder’s Day. Berry and I were just hanging out in the park.” Ian’s face is red with laughter.

  “Well, who the fuck did I go to bed with then?”

  Ian lays his head down on the table, howling. It might’ve been his laughter or Rudd beating Ian around the head with the now-empty muffin box that wakes Davis up from his nap.

  The sound of the pocket door sliding open an
d heavy boots on the tile signal his arrival. I don’t need to glance over my shoulder to know that his sister’s still in the back. An electrical charge shoots up my spine every time she’s within ten feet of me, and my Landry radar hasn’t gone off all afternoon.

  Surreptitiously, I flip over my phone to see if she’s answered the text I sent an hour ago. Nothing.

  Across from me, Ian tears up again. This time laughing at my expense instead of Rudd’s.

  “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, but the significance of my actions isn’t lost on me. I can’t remember the last time I was anxious to hear from a girl, particularly one I wasn’t sleeping with.

  “Landry sick?” I ask, giving up any pretense of not caring.

  “Nah,” Davis says without any more explanation. “I’m hungry. What’re we eating?” He leans against the counter.

  “Muffin,” Rudd replies, only it comes out more like “mmmffnnn” because his mouth is full of the baked treat.

  “There’s another box of donuts in the cabinet above the sink,” I tell Davis before repeating, “Landry sick?”

  Davis doesn’t answer because his mouth is stuffed with half a donut. I’m forced to wait impatiently, squeezing the cards in my hands so tightly that they begin to crease. Ian frowns as he pulls them out of my grip.

  “Landry?” I prompt when Davis opens his mouth to shove the rest of the donut in.

  He pauses. “May got access to the internet again, and they’re working on some project. Dunno what it’s all about. When she gets involved in that shit, she loses track of time.”

  “It’s been four hours.”

  He cocks his head and studies me. “You keeping track?”

  I resist the urge to fiddle with my phone. “Just making sure she’s still happy to be with us. After all, didn’t you say that if she bailed, you were gone, too?” Technically, the threat was that he’d leave if one of us laid our filthy hands on her.

  He presses his lips together, as if slightly embarrassed I’m calling him out on the whole blackmail thing, and then gives an abrupt nod. “She’s fine. If she needs something, she’s a big girl and can use her mouth.”

  That conjures up all sorts of dirty thoughts. Like her mouth opening wide around my dick. Or her mouth running over my abs. Or her lips tugging on the piercing through my left nip. Fuck, I’d settle for just her mouth on mine.

  Rudd opens his mouth to probably say the same damn things I’m thinking, but I don’t want to hear it. I give him a not today, fucker look at he sits back, confused but silent.

  I’m pathetic. I’m ready to throw down with my bandmate over a girl I haven’t even laid a finger on. I flip my phone over. Still nothing.

  Davis grabs a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. “Heard you have some of your crew coming to the Austin show tonight.”

  “Yep. A couple of my roommates are from Texas so they’re flying down to see the show and then driving to see their families.” I suspect, although no one has said it outright, that Noah wants to introduce his girlfriend, Grace, to his dad. Grace is the kind of girl who would want that before she walked down the aisle, and Noah’s been trying to drag Grace to the altar since he first arrived in town.

  Before, I didn’t really get his devotion. Grace was some girl he wrote letters to while deployed in the Marines. When he separated from the military, he thought he had to make himself worthy of her before he parked his boots under her bed. He didn’t come to her immediately, making her wait. When he finally did show his face, she was pissed off and this time, it was his turn to cool his heels until she came around.

  I find myself understanding them both better now. Waiting sucks balls and so does wanting.

  Three weeks of Landry laughing and flirting with me is slowly driving me mad. I’ve never jerked off so much in my entire life. I’ve never had to. Someone’s always been around to do it for me. When I was thirteen, a groupie gave me my first blow job. Another groupie relieved me of my V-card a year later.

  If my hand even strayed near my dick, there was a girl ready to address my needs. I took full advantage of it because why the hell not?

  Since I started on this tour, though, I haven’t touched one girl. And it’s not like I’m lacking for attention. One thing about tours is that new pussy’s always available. Every joint we’ve played has held a bevy of gorgeous women. Young ones, old ones, every shape and size. Girls pretending to be sisters and girls who probably are sisters.

  But not one of them turned me on like Landry.

  My phone pings. I nearly knock it off the table in my haste to grab it. It’s Landry.

  Her: I’m good. Got caught up w May. I have an idea for tonight after the show.

  Please tell me it’s you and me finding a private place and fucking until we’re too exhausted to stand.

  Me: Yeah?

  Her: How about this?

  Sadly, it’s not a picture of her naked. Instead, it’s a link to a site that offers neon mini-golf.

  Her: Too hokey?

  Me: No. Think the guys would like it.

  Her: I’ll set it up. How many do you think?

  I look at my crew. How about none of them and just you and me in the dark?

  Me: Reserve enough for all of us. If some don’t show, they don’t show. I’ll cover any cancellation costs.

  Her: Coolio. We stopping soon?

  Me: Not until we get to Austin. Need something?

  Her: Nah. I might nap, tho. The bus is making me sleepy.

  Me: I’ll wake you when we get there.

  Her: K have a good jam session.

  * * *

  “You killed it tonight,” Bo yells as he hops onto the stage and gives a hard blow across my back.

  “Austin loves its live music.”

  “Nah, they loved you. Yo, Ian, put that thing down, son. We’re your roadies for tonight.” Bo shoves me out of the way so he can get to Ian, and the two engage in a short tussle before Ian gives up. Bo’s got about thirty pounds on my drummer.

  “You’re getting Bo’s help whether you want it or not,” Noah murmurs beside me.

  I bend and unplug the mic cord from the amp. “I see that. How was the flight down? I heard Grace convinced you to fly first class.” Noah is a notorious cheapskate, trying to save every penny so he can amass his first million before he turns thirty. He’ll make it easily, but Grace comes from money so he has a hard time recognizing his own successes.

  He grimaces. “She said it was a gift from her mother.”

  “And you believed that?”

  “Couldn’t really accuse my girl of lying.” He looks over his shoulder where Bo’s girlfriend and Grace are standing with Landry. “By the way, Landry’s pretty great.” He gives me a nudge. “You did good work there.”

  “Not mine yet.”

  “What’s the holdup?”

  I grab the amp and gesture with my head for Noah to grab the mic stand. “She had a bad run-in with a guy before.”

  “You need Bo and me to pay a visit?” the former Marine asks with a hard edge to his voice.

  “No. She’s safe here, and I already have Mal looking into it. Landry’s stalker dropped by the week before we left on tour, but the guy had two witnesses. Mal says the two guys are the stalker’s old frat brothers, and apparently junkies, too. Marrow might either be dealing to them or he has some good contacts. Mal figures he can peel them away from Marrow, but it’s taking a little effort. In the meantime, he’s a thousand miles away, and she’s having a good time.” I heft the amp onto my shoulder. “While you were waiting for Grace to come to her senses, what’d you do?”

  Noah gives me a speculative look. “I lifted. A lot.”

  “I’ve been running five miles every morning,” I confess.

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not well. How’d it work out for you?”

  “Not well.”

  That isn’t encouraging.

  “So what’s the holdup?” he asks again.

 
“She told me she trusted me.”

  Noah winces.

  “Exactly. Maybe some girls would be thrilled to hear that my dick gets hard at the thought of her, but she’s not one of them.”

  He hands the mic stand to Ian, who packs it away in the belly of the bus. In a low voice, Noah says, “I thought it might be the brother.”

  “If it were just him, I’d tell her exactly where I stood and let her make the decision.”

  “The band be damned?”

  I look over his shoulder at Davis, who is mock boxing with Rudd while Ian lights up a joint and watches. “I don’t think it’d come to that, but if it did?” I shrug. “Bands come and go. Girls like Landry are once in a lifetime.”

  “You should tell her that.”

  “And have her run screaming for the hills?”

  “She doesn’t act like someone who’s scared of you. In fact, during your set, she couldn’t take her eyes off you. Grace and AnnMarie tried to talk to her, but she was too focused on what was happening onstage to pay any attention.”

  I shove the amp at Ian and draw Noah to the side. “She say anything?”

  Christ, I feel like I’m in middle school, trading notes on the way to class.

  Noah doesn’t give me shit, though. He knows what it’s like to want and not have. “Before you got onstage, it was Adam this and Adam that. She believes the sun rises and sets on your ass. I don’t think telling her how you feel is violating any trust she might have. If she tells you she’s not interested, then you deal with that. I know you’re not going to force yourself on her.”

  I hesitate. “I don’t want to spook her.” I need to handle her with care. The crush she once said she had doesn’t seem to have materialized into anything concrete. I don’t want to scare her off.

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Noah says.

  I turn it over in my head. She’s comfortable with me because she thinks I’m safe. If I don’t make it weird for her if she turns me down, then, yeah, what do I have to lose? And she’s only here for another few weeks. Although, that thought bothers me more than it should.