Lennon's Jinx (Lennon's Girls #1)

by Chris Myers

  “Never.” I hang up. I can only be so lucky that Mom leaves.

  Currie pouts and tears leak from her swollen eyes.

  “I told you to go to your room.”

  “You’re not my daddy.” She runs out to the living area and curls up to Heather who acts like nothing happened. They share a bowl of popcorn on the couch in front of the flat screen. Currie soaks up the attention because it’s so rare.

  I shouldn’t have talked to Currie that way. I plod to my room to soak in the shower.

  Jonathan has a lot of gall to ask us to move in with him. Just because he’s sober for a few years doesn’t make up for a lifetime of hard partying and leaving me to pick up the broken pieces. Currie has never seen him slip back into a coma of pills, but I have. I don’t want to lose Currie to him or anyone. She’s all I’ve got. Having full custody will prevent me from losing her.

  I need to release all the stress building up inside me. Bailey enters my thoughts. I could ask her out, but then my mind works over Jinx. What is it with her? She was skittish, and today, she leaned against me until I tried to kiss her and then she freaked out. I have to stop thinking about Jinx that way.

  And Currie. She wants parents, and as hard as I try, I’m never enough. This throws me into a rage. I step out of the shower and kick the stool over in the bathroom. I tug on sweats and retreat to my room.

  It’s a huge master suite divided by French doors to my studio, containing a baby grand, several guitars, and amps. I leave my door open at night in case Currie has nightmares, and so I can hear her while she sleeps.

  Taking the brass key from around my neck, I unlock the wooden box from underneath my bed. It’s a box full of memories, the few good ones I have from my childhood.

  There are photos of me holding Currie the first day she came home, ticket stubs from when Jonathan took me to a Cubs game. He bought us hot dogs and let me sip the foam off his beer. When we got home, Mom was furious. He followed her like a whipped dog into the bedroom where he snorted coke for the rest of the night.

  I touch the tiny bear Jonathan won for me at Navy Pier when I was seven. The baseball cards he saved as a boy are jammed into one corner of the box. A torn picture of his mom lies on the bottom. I stole it from him because I knew how much he loved it.

  A piece of coal from the mines Jonathan worked at as a child rests in another corner. I really don’t know much about him other than the music he writes and that he dotes on Currie. An unpublished song he wrote for her is folded into the box along with the one I wrote in fifth grade that Rage performed.

  The strip of photos of Mei Lin and me making faces at each other stares back at me. It’s been so long since I’ve opened this box I’d forgotten about her. In sixth grade, I took her to an art gallery. Jonathan’s limo driver drove us. She said she felt like a princess. In that photo booth, I stole a kiss from her.

  I tuck everything back, lock the box, and shove it under my bed.

  With my twelve-string in hand, I work out the chords for a new song. This is what keeps me sane. It’s my therapy. I guess Jonathan and I do have something in common.

  These chains bind me

  Keeping me from my true self

  Tying me to the walls of the past

  Who will set me free?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LENNON

  On Friday, guilt works its way into me while I teach Jinx to read music. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on Currie. Sometimes, I forget that she’s just a little girl. She’s at the Nowaks today, so no Heather trauma for her today.

  Today, Jinx smells citrusy, and her breath is like peppermint. Girls shouldn’t do this to guys. No wonder I can’t concentrate at school. It’s their fault. I press so close to her on the piano bench that she scoots as far to the other end as possible. Another inch and she’ll be on the floor.

  I teach Jinx using the Lo Kno Pla method. It’s the easiest one I know. It starts with a pictorial representation of the keys then progresses from there. The top line shows finger positions, the middle, the note by letter, and the bottom, the note duration.

  “You’re picking up on this pretty quick,” I say, helping her work through the easy songs first.

  She snorts. “How’s this going to teach me to read music? It’s nothing like the staff.”

  “We’ll get there. You’ve already moved to the second level.”

  Jinx blows a stray hair from her face. She’s like a little pixie. “Whatever.”

  She’s quiet through most of the lesson, listening carefully. Unlike me, Jinx is a good student. As well as she plays, it’s hard to believe she never learned to read music.

  After the other night at Sammy’s, I’ve been dying to ask her about Zach. I didn’t have much of an opportunity yesterday in Chicago with my girls there. She probably won’t tell me anything, so I go in the back way. “Why do you act like the Virgin Mary, when you go downtown and party like there’s no tomorrow?”

  Jinx glares at me. “I didn’t get drunk. I don’t go whoring around and sleep with everything that slinks into my path. We just drink and dance. That’s it.”

  “Yeah, right. Even before you were slipped something, you were hitting on Ran hard. Was it because Zach was there? Making him a little jealous?”

  Jinx bumps my shoulder hard with hers, well hard for her. “You are a jerk. Zach and I split up my sophomore year. That’s ancient history.”

  “Is it? That’s not what your body was saying.” The way Jinx looked at him. Pain? Regret? Is that why guys scare her? Zach hurt her? No. That can’t be it.

  Her face twists like she’s going to pummel me. I’d probably enjoy it.

  “Are you hitting on me?” she asks.

  “Why? Is that surprising to you? It would be to me.” I knock out several stanzas of Rachmaninoff’s menacing Prelude in C# Minor.

  “Let’s talk about you instead. Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

  I laugh. “What for?”

  “Don’t you ever want to cuddle with a girl? Have someone to talk to, share your feelings, your dreams?”

  I don’t have any dreams other than helping Currie acquire hers. “Girls want to share feelings. Guys don’t.”

  “You don’t. Zach did. We wrote music and jammed together.”

  “You still like him.” I nudge her shoulder with mine. Payback. I catch her by the arm before she falls off the bench. “Did he ask you to join his band? Of course not. Otherwise, you’d still be with him. My band doesn’t discriminate.”

  For a moment, doubt shadows her face before contempt replaces it. “You never answered my question. Is Bailey your girlfriend?”

  “No and no.” I don’t mention Mei Lin. I don’t think she counts. We were both young. It was very innocent.

  “What’s the point of having a girlfriend?” I get laid a lot, though I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have a relationship like the Nowaks. They get along with each other, but that’s rare. Why make a commitment I have no intention of keeping. I guess in some ways I am like Jonathan. That slashes a nice hole in my gut.

  “You’re hopeless.” Jinx whips through the easy songs, avoiding talking with me by pounding the keys with her slender fingers. She takes a deep breath when I pull out music with the staff.

  I guide her through a first year Thompson song. “Take your time. Remember the G clef circles ‘G.’ Locate the steps from there.”

  She struggles a bit. “That’s a ‘C,’ right?”

  “Yes, good.”

  Jinx plays through the whole song with few mistakes. “I can’t believe it. I did it.” In her excitement, she clasps my arm. “Oh, sorry. Thanks for doing this. You’re a good teacher.”

  She touched me. I’m surprised she’s not wiping off the germs. “I know.”

  “And modest.”

  My mind wrestles with how I can touch her and make it seem perfectly natural. What’s wrong with me? I should leave her alone. “Have you memorized our cover songs?”

  “W
hen have I had time?”

  “When you were out drinking Wednesday night.” Jinx is actually really good on the piano without reading music, but to become exceptional, she needs to learn. “Your pay depends on it. Let’s work on a few songs.”

  “But I just learned to read the staff.” Panic rises in her voice.

  Here’s my chance. “We’ll work first on your singing technique.”

  “I sing just fine.”

  “You can do better.” I take her hand. “Stand up.”

  With her castrating glare, handholding is out, so I drop hers. “Straighten your spine. When you breathe, use your abdomen.” I place her hand over her belly with mine on top. “Breathe.” I love stealing a feel of her soft skin. I should have my head examined.

  Her shoulders lift as she inhales. “When you take a breath, your abdomen should expand, not your chest.”

  “Oh?” Jinx tries again without lifting her shoulders this time. “Like that?”

  “Yes.” We cover only a couple more techniques including the soft palate, so I don’t overwhelm her before she removes my hand. Her stomach is flat and firm and warm. I’d like to wrestle her to the ground right now.

  “Why do you need to touch me?” she asks.

  “That’s the way I was taught.”

  “I’m sure she did.”

  “He. I had the same coach Jonathan used.” The thought needles me. “My teacher was gay, so he might have gotten something out of it.”

  Jinx laughs. “Good.”

  I finally get a smile out of this girl. That was painful. At least, I don’t get a stiffy while holding her this close. God, she smells good.

  Before I can step away from her, Clive and Danny Boy stroll into the warehouse. Susan treads behind him. Her finger is looped through his belt. Now that Jinx has joined the band, I’m positive Susan will attend every practice.

  Clive shuts the door with his foot and whistles. “Blimey, you’re already chatting up that totty.”

  Jinx shoves me hard. I don’t budge an inch as I mouth, “Thanks” to Clive.

  “No problem,” he says.

  Susan sticks to Danny. She’s probably worried about Miss Frigidaire. I’d like to ask Susan if she doesn’t have something else to do, like school or work, but Danny has ordered that she’s off limits for harassment. Occasionally, I break the rules.

  Clive unpacks his bass guitar and sets it into a stand. “How’s Zoe?”

  I think of Currie hanging out with her and wonder how she’s coping. “Zoe goes in for chemo tomorrow.”

  “I’ll try to make it by after the wedding,” Clive says.

  “We will, too,” Danny adds, kissing Susan’s hand before letting it go.

  Danny Boy grins at me. He’s happy we’re practicing. We get down to business, starting with our cover songs. It’s important that we do well at the Winthrop wedding. It can get us a lot more jobs.

  Jinx is off just a fraction of a second on several songs, probably because she’s not familiar with them. She needs to practice more.

  Clive bumps Jinx with his bass. “Come on baby bird. Get with the program.”

  Jinx grits her teeth, fighting back either anger or tears or is it fright? It’s hard to say which. I don’t like to see her scared.

  “I’m trying,” she says.

  Danny twirls a drumstick. “Lighten up, Clive.”

  “It’s okay, Jinx,” I say, distracted by her nervously chewing on a nail. I don’t understand what’s up with her. She’s got talent, but something eats away at her self-esteem. “You need more practice.”

  She hangs her head. “I will.”

  Susan opens a book and tries to study. It’s not working too well. The slightest innuendo of Danny caring the least bit for Jinx sets Susan on edge. Her gaze darts to him then back to Jinx. How he puts up with her yanking on his nose ring, I’m clueless.

  “I’ll meet you guys at the train station and give you a ride from there,” I say, wrapping up the session.

  “We’re going to drive into Chicago,” Danny Boy says, “so I can take my snares.”

  I tell Jinx again, “You have to seriously work on these songs the rest of the day. We haven’t even covered our originals for tonight. Let me know if you want my help.”

  “Plan on chatting her up?” Clive says.

  I glance at Jinx, glad she didn’t get the British slang for pick up.

  Her face puckers for a moment. She’s clearly upset. I want to feel bad for her, but if she wants to play with the boys in the band, she’ll have to man up.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LENNON

  It’s Friday night, and as usual, Kichee’s Joint is wall-to-wall people, mostly bikers, some with prison tats and chains hanging from their belts to secure their wallets. Some of the women sport bandanas and chaps, and their biceps bulge as big as some of the men.

  Poor Jinx is sweating and rubbing her hands together, like her failed debut is imminent. I grab her a beer to loosen her up, along with a couple for the guys.

  Jinx shoves the beer away. “I don’t like beer.”

  “Okay,” I say. “More for me. Would you like something else?”

  She shakes her head.

  I rest my hand on her shoulder. She briefly shudders, so I let go. “Ease up. You’ll do fine.”

  “I hope so,” Jinx says, hanging her head.

  Susan sits at a table up front. She never misses a gig because girls love the boys in the band, hers being Danny. Rena and the twins join her. It’s good that Jinx has friends supporting her. I nod at them in acknowledgement. This can be a rough place, so I’m surprised Rena came.

  Jinx wears black stockings and a really short multi-colored dress, cinched at the waist with a wide red belt. She looks awesome, which elicits catcalls from the overzealous crowd. They really like us here because we mix it up with original, alternative, and classic rock.

  The rest of the band wears jeans. Clive has on a leather vest and no shirt. He’s got the physique for it. When it gets too hot, Danny Boy shucks off his shirt as well. The girls go wild over it. Me, I’m not fat, but I’m not ripped either. I promise myself to start using the gym in my house.

  Bailey strides in with two of her friends. A frown creeps into my mouth. She knows I don’t like her to cut into my gig time. She must be determined to make up for the other night, but I’m not so sure I want her to.

  I give her a half-smile. She’s still a paying customer.

  Clive nudges Jinx as we prep on stage. “Relax, Jinxy. If we suck, they only throw empty bottles at us, not the full ones.”

  Jinx is shaking in her high-heeled leather boots, my personal favorite. “They do?”

  I love girls in boots, in fact, any kind of leather gets to me. Hers spell sex on a stick. What a waste.

  “No, they don’t,” Danny says. “Give her a break.”

  I do a sound check. “One-two-three.” There’s a bit of feedback, so I gesture to the sound guy to adjust the settings.

  Three girls, who are regulars, crowd to the front. I’ve done two of them. The other one has blonde hair with blue and green feathers intertwined throughout. She dances like there’s a pole beside her. I like that in a girl.

  One lifts her beer to me, so I grin back. Bailey doesn’t look too happy about that. It’s bad enough I’ve got Jinx here to give me a hard time, especially when there are at least three good prospects here tonight. I hope Bailey doesn’t make another scene.

  Jinx hides behind her keyboard, which I arranged close to the front. Can’t let her get under my skin or she’ll ruin my fun.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  Danny Boy and Clive nod while Jinx locks onto me with wild, frightened eyes.

  “It’s okay,” I say to her. “We’ll start with Hold Down the Wall.”

  “I don’t know that,” Jinx mouths to me.

  I shake my head. The set list I gave her is in order of popularity. That song is second out of our originals. The first one on the list we leave for last.
r />   Clive lifts his beer to the crowd. “Cheers, big ears.”

  The crowd lifts their beers in response, whooping and hollering. The girls down front are already wriggling, even though the music hasn’t started. The song begins with me, lead guitar, then bass, then—too soon, Jinx comes in on the keys with diatonic chords to my lead. Drums are supposed to be next.

  She shrivels under Clive’s glare, so she backs off, which is where she’s supposed to join us. It’s going to be a long night. When we get to the chorus, I sing to Jinx so she’ll harmonize with me, but she’s scared out of her mind.

  A big burly biker shouts above the crowd. “Hey, Honey. Get with the boys. Or at least shake that sweet ass of yours.”

  She practically growls at him, though a nervous tremor ripples across her shoulders. I don’t like seeing her frightened.

  The crowd hasn’t drunk enough to overlook her deer full of buckshot confusion. After Jinx butchers that song, I try a very old Stones tune.

  Anyone can play their music. Most of the songs only require three chords, and this one is a crowd pleaser. This time, Jinx catches on and though she doesn’t know the words, she picks up on the chorus this time.

  Just when I think she’s come out of her shell and she’s got the guys mesmerized by that Hayley Williams tone of hers, Jinx loses her concentration. I follow her line of sight.

  Dammit. It’s Zach. He’s heading for a table reserved by a fellow band mate. He didn’t bring his scary girlfriend. She’s a freak. One time she lit into me after I turned her down. I knew she was dating Zach, and he plays the same circuit as we do. No sense causing problems when there are plenty of fish to swim with.

  Jinx slowly unravels beside me. Her face grows paler than its normal creamy tone. I tap her with my knee, take my hand from my guitar, and with two fingers I point at her eyes then mine. She stares at me and then it happens, all her hate pours into me. Good. The old Jinx is back. That’ll help her stay with us.

  She sings to me with all the vehemence of a hate song, so it sounds great. Her concentration lasts only a few more songs before her gaze wanders back to Zach. We close the first set, and Clive is ready to throttle her.