The Secrets of Attraction

by Robin Constantine

“Yep.” I had the feeling he knew the truth and didn’t care.

  “What can I get ya? Once it starts filling up, table service stops, but anything for now?”

  We ordered a round of Cokes. Whiskey Business was the sort of club I’d dreamed about hanging out in. It’s like you could feel the ghosts of nights-out past still echoing through the space. A crackle of anticipation was in the air—the emptiness just waiting for another incredible night to happen.

  “This is going to be awesome,” I declared.

  “What if we are the only three here?” Wren asked. We looked around at the empty space. I thought about what Foxy Yoo-hoo Dude said.

  “Nah, it’s early, it’ll fill up,” I said. At least I hoped it would, for Jesse’s sake.

  An hour later, Whiskey Business was packed so thick we couldn’t see the bar from our table anymore. Jesse, Grayson, and Tanner were still in back, but a tall guy in a leather kilt came out every so often to announce when they’d be on. We still had fifteen minutes. Jazz’s phone went off.

  She swiped for her messages. “He’s here.”

  Jazz waved her phone over the sea of heads. Logan broke through the crowd, followed by Luke Dobson and another guy with shaggy hair. They each had a beer in their hand. Guess they knew the same guy Grayson did.

  Okay? Jazz mouthed to Wren. Gray’s old friends weren’t exactly friends. They were more like frenemies from a past life. Wren shrugged.

  Grayson came out from the back and edged his way through the crowd on the dance floor. The moment he laid eyes on Logan, Luke, and the shaggy blond dude, he cracked a smile.

  “Andy, what are you doing here?” He clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Heard you were playing. Thought we’d check it out.”

  “Cool.” Gray looked at me. “Mind if I steal Wren?”

  “Haven’t you already?”

  He laughed. Wren got up and took his hand, ignoring the guys. “Be right back.”

  Andy and Luke drifted into the crowd. Logan grabbed Wren’s chair and moved it toward Jazz. They leaned into each other. I took out my phone just so I had something to occupy myself while they chatted. Three texts from Zach. Gah. I shut down the screen without reading them. When it was obvious that Wren’s Be right back was more like Be back never, I excused myself from Jazz and Logan’s first date. No fucking way was I going to be third wheel.

  “I’m going to find Wren,” I said. Jazz nodded. I inched into the crowd, shouldering and shuffling and pushing my way through, until I spotted Wren, up front, stage left, arms crossed and waiting for the show to start. I bumped her.

  “Be right back?”

  “Sorry—Gray’s nervous about tonight. Him, nervous. He needed a pep talk.”

  “Is that code word for something else?”

  She smiled. “I knew you’d find your way over here. Is Jazz okay?”

  “Yep. So far, first date is looking fine.”

  The guy with the leather kilt and black motorcycle boots strode onto the stage followed by Gray, Tanner, and Jesse—who looked more like they were on their way to detention than leading the crowd in a good time. Tanner appeared particularly freaked, his eyes blank, then Gray said something to him and he laughed. The room was electric, ready to party, but I had the feeling it was not easily impressed, or maybe not drunk enough.

  Wren squeezed my arm. “Oh, god, they have to be good, right?”

  “Of course, they’re gonna kill it,” I said.

  Jess lost his queasy look once he pulled his guitar strap over his head. His features sharpened under the blue stage lighting as he strummed a little and stepped on a pedal by the mic stand. He stood a little taller, sussing out the crowd until he saw me. He smiled, but it wasn’t that sweet, trustworthy smile. It was somewhere between a sneer and a smile that said I’m about to throw it down, wanna come? That smile torched my insides.

  “Hey, hey, what’s up, Whiskey Business?! Give it up for a band you’ll be seeing more of if I have anything to do with it . . . Yellow Number Five.” Leather kilt guy lifted his arms up and the crowd went insane.

  Jesse turned around and stalked up to the mic.

  “S’up, Ho . . . bo . . . ken . . .” he said, before launching the band into an Arctic Monkeys song. I kept bracing myself for some screw-up, a sour note, some weird misstep, but they were awesome.

  Jesse commanded the stage, legs straight and slightly apart. He held the guitar with a kind of lazy control that made him look like he might have had better places to be but was choosing to hang out with us for a while. Broody Barista was nowhere to be seen as he writhed to the music, eyes rolling up into his head when he sang, mouth barely caressing the mic with each word. His presence filled the room.

  “Omigod, they’re good!” Wren shrieked into my ear.

  Grayson was sick behind the drums, precise and fast, his hair flipping around with his effort. Even Tanner made that stupid hat look cool.

  Jesse picked me out again. His eyes on mine, I felt like he was sharing some part of himself that could only come out in the dark. That it was just the two of us. I moved with the music, his music. Anytime he looked away, I had the urge to throw myself into his line of vision again.

  The crowd grew thicker, swelling, pushing us closer to the stage. People thrashed and pogoed and knocked into one another around us. I looked behind me, and between the bobbing silhouettes I caught a flash of Jazz and Logan, standing near the back and moving along with the crowd. And I caught a glimpse of . . . Zach? Shit. He stood by the wall, stock-still, a statue in the midst of pandemonium. I wasn’t sure if he saw me.

  Someone knocked into Wren and me, sending a spray of cold liquid across us. We both screamed from the chill and turned around. The burly guy held his hands up.

  “Sorry, sorry.” He gave us each a once-over and leered. “Hey.”

  A hand clamped on his shoulder and spun him around.

  The guy in the leather kilt.

  “Watch it,” he said in Leering Guy’s face. For someone in a skirt, he was pretty threatening. He shoved the guy back into the crowd. “Are you okay?”

  Wren nodded. Zach worked his way through the crowd toward us. All I knew was that I couldn’t stand up front with him. How long had he been here? God, did he see Jesse looking at me, because if he did, if he saw me . . . snagged.

  “Zach’s here,” I whisper-yelled into Wren’s ear. She raised her eyebrows. I wriggled over and met him in the crowd halfway.

  “Did you get hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I motioned toward the back of the room, covering my nose as I walked through a cloud of rank sweat and cologne. He grabbed my hand and snaked us through. Once we were past the mass of bodies, the air was cooler. I swear I could feel Jesse’s eyes on me. The crowd went wild as he played the first chords of “Aneurysm.” I had to force myself to look disinterested. We found an empty space near the edge of the bar.

  “Nice shirt,” Zach said.

  I squirmed. Why hadn’t I just answered his texts?

  “Zach.”

  “That’s the guy from the coffee place, isn’t it?”

  “We’re friends, Zach, you know that.”

  “Friends like we’re friends?”

  “No.” I crossed my arms. “What are you doing here?”

  He tilted his chin toward the stage. “He told me about it, remember? My scrimmage was canceled and Kyle and I were looking for something to do, but you would have known that if you answered your phone. I don’t get it, Madison, why didn’t you just call me?”

  My throat constricted, the air thick and hot around me.

  “Why don’t we get out of here?” he asked.

  “No, they just went on. Let’s stay.”

  “I don’t want to. Kyle’s having trouble finding a parking spot anyway; I think we’re going to head back home, hit the diner.”

  “Okay, you do that.”

  He flinched.

  “Fine.” He brushed by me and wove through the bar crowd toward the front door.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Counted to ten. He wanted me to follow him. Maybe it would all just go away, and we wouldn’t have to have that conversation. The one I’d been putting off since Sadie Hawkins. I wanted to be in front of the stage again. When I opened my eyes, Zach had returned.

  “Can we talk, out front? Please.”

  I relented and followed him through the bar. Foxy Yoo-hoo Guy was sitting at the entrance and nodded as we walked out. We continued out onto the street, moving to the side of Whiskey Business so people could get in. The echo of the band still hummed in my ears. I crossed my arms against the cold. Zach paced in front of me.

  “Does it make you feel good to ignore me or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes you fucking do, Madison. When we’re alone, everything’s perfect, but the minute we go out, or talk about doing something—other than each other, I guess—you get all weird about it. Have you even thought about what I said to you?”

  Some passing girls who’d heard what he said burst out laughing. My mouth went dry. “Please don’t talk about this here. Now.”

  “Why? Am I embarrassing you? Is that it? Am I such a fucking embarrassment that you can draw me in your little sketchbook but you can’t really be with me?”

  “Enough.” I could feel the pressure building. Those words again, waiting to come out. Was I ready to say them? Why was I holding on to this? Whatever it was? Because sometimes it was better to be with him than to be alone? I’d never be able to say to him what he’d said to me.

  “Why didn’t you answer my texts today?”

  “Because I don’t want you here!” The words sprang out of my mouth and right into his face. The anger he’d been directing at me dissolved. His face softened. His eyes. Hell, I had to look away. “I’m sorry.”

  He stood next to me and leaned against the window of the club. Shoulders drooped a bit, hands in pockets. “Don’t be, at least I know the truth.”

  “Zach—”

  “Maddie, just shut up, okay? Shut up.”

  We stood like that for a few minutes, the streets alive with Saturday-night bar crawlers. A bachelorette party, the bride with a sash and a tiara, stumbled into Whiskey Business as a couple of guys wandered out. Not just any guys.

  “Logan?” I said.

  He spun around while his friends kept walking, oblivious. “Yeah?”

  It was the first time I got a really good look at him. He was cute—longish hair and an almost imperceptible chin cleft that made his face interesting.

  “Where’s Jazz?”

  “She’s inside.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  He looked toward Luke and Andy, who finally realized he wasn’t with them and stopped. “We got invited to this party in a brownstone. She didn’t feel like coming.”

  I wanted to tell him how nervous she’d been to ask him out for tonight. How fucking lit up she’d been after fooling around with him in the hallway at the dance. Why would he leave, if he knew how important it was to her? But who was I to give anyone advice? He waited for a moment, then turned and caught up with his friends.

  “Hey, Zach.” Kyle trotted toward us from the curb where his car was double-parked. “I can’t find a fucking spot and I’m not paying twenty-five dollars for a parking garage so we can hang out for an hour. Hey, Madison.” He acknowledged me with a nod—a nod that said he knew exactly what was going on.

  “I’ll be right there,” Zach said. Kyle jogged back to his car. Zach turned to me.

  “So, this is it, I guess.”

  “Zach, I’m sorry, I just wanted to hang with Wren and Jazz. I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

  “It’s more than that, Madison, and you know it.”

  “You don’t have to go, really.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He started walking away, then turned back. “I meant what I said that night. It’s really sort of fucked up that you can’t even . . .”

  “You can’t force me to say something I don’t feel.”

  “The rush from this guy is going to wear off too.”

  “This is not about a guy.”

  “Sure it is. I see the way you look at each other.”

  “Zach.” How did I look at Jesse?

  “Just, good luck. Maybe you’ll let him in, Madison.” He turned away then and got into the car without looking back. Maybe you’ll let him in? What did he even mean? It was the most interesting thing he’d said to me in our five months together. I watched the car head down Washington Street until I couldn’t see it anymore. He really wasn’t coming back.

  I felt like I should cry, or yell, or something. Why would he just say that and leave?

  “Kenzie.”

  I kicked the sidewalk, took a few deep breaths. How much of the set had I missed?

  “Kenzie,” a voice said again.

  I turned around. Foxy Yoo-hoo Guy smiled at me.

  “Your friends are looking for you,” he said.

  “Oh, um, right.” Kenzie. I’m Kenzie. Wait, how did he know?

  I walked back into the bar and was surrounded by cries of, Kenzie!

  Everyone. Was. Saying. My. Name.

  Or my faux name. Clapping. Chanting.

  “Ken-Zie, Ken-Zie.”

  “Give me a hand wishing my friend Kenzie a happy birthday.”

  It was Jesse. Leading the crowd in “Happy Birthday,” to me.

  FOURTEEN

  JESSE

  EVEN AS THE LAST CHORDS OF THE SONG ECHOED through the bar, I knew I’d made a huge mistake. I could see Madison clearly, out near the front, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. I thought she’d like it, kind of a thank-you for all she’d done in the past two weeks, but halfway through “Happy Birthday,” when she wasn’t even smiling, my gut told me, Jess, you just blew it big.

  We left the stage as Deck went back on and announced the band for the next eighteen-and-over date. The dance floor had cleared out a bit, but was still thick enough that I had to push my way through. Gray and Tanner disappeared into the crowd. Someone tugged on the collar of my jacket; a girl waved me over to her and her friends.

  “You guys were sooooo awesome!”

  “Thanks.” I nodded at the four of them, hoping they didn’t expect me to say much more than that, because I could barely hear my own thoughts over the techno that was now blaring through the speakers.

  “You guys want to hang out?” she asked.

  “We’re, um, kind of hanging out anyway, here with some friends.”

  “Will you guys be back here to play again?” another girl asked.

  I shrugged. “Not sure, hope so.”

  They let out an enthusiastic “Woo-hoo!” and high-fived. I didn’t know what to do. We’d never had fans who were strangers before.

  “Is the guy in the hat seeing anyone?”

  “Ha, Tanner?” I shook my head.

  The girl who’d waved me over tugged on my collar again and brought her mouth to my ear.

  “I think you’re hot. Text me when you play here next,” she said, shoving something into my hand. It was a napkin. With her number.

  “Cool.” I tucked it into my pocket. “See ya.”

  “See ya”? You’ve got this guitar-god thing down great, Jess.

  I found Madison, Wren, and Grayson by the bar.

  Madison had her arms crossed, a different person from the beginning of the night. She looked bummed, all the excitement drained out of her. Zach wasn’t around. I shouldn’t have felt happy about that, but I did.

  “So did you hate it?”

  “Oh, what, you? No, you guys were great. ‘Happy Birthday’? I just hate being the center of attention for something so corny. I know I probably don’t give off that vibe, but, yeah that’s me.”

  “Ah, I’ll file that away for future reference.”

  A hatless Tanner popped up behind Grayson and Wren.

  “Have any of you seen Diara?”

  �
�You mean Jazz?” Madison said.

  “Oh, I kind of like the fake name thing.”

  “Isn’t she with Logan?” Wren asked.

  “No, I saw him leave about half an hour ago. I haven’t seen her since then.” Madison’s brow pinched and she looked at Wren. “I thought she was with you.”

  “She was with me until five minutes ago and . . .” Tanner leaned in like he was going to say something but put out his pinkie and thumb and tipped them back toward his mouth to mime drinking.

  “No,” we all said together.

  “Yeah, had to step outside for some air; we came back in, I told her I’d grab her a water and now I can’t find her.”

  “Maybe she’s in the bathroom.” Wren grabbed Madison’s hand and began to walk away. Then a siren sounded, a red light pulsed on the far wall, and people climbed up onto the bar to dance. Everyone was clapping and laughing, even the bartender, so it must have been a regular thing at Whiskey Business.

  “Ho-leeey shit. Found her.” We followed Tanner’s gaze across the room to the end of the bar. There was Diara/Jazz, standing on top and wearing Tanner’s ridonkulous hat. She held hands with a girl who wore a sparkly crown and a veil. They waved their arms up over their heads as they swung their hips side to side along to the music.

  “Omigod, she’s really into it,” Wren said, laughing.

  Tanner cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled, “Di-ar-a! Woo!”

  We watched until the song was over and the red light dimmed. Everyone climbed down from the bar. Jazz bounded over to us, the pom-pom on the top of the hat wiggling as she made her way through the crowd. “Did you see me?”

  “Jazzabelle is out to play,” Madison said, tugging on the hat strings. Jazz’s eyes widened.

  “Hey, this girl wants to meet you.” She grabbed Tanner’s hand and pulled him along. His face twisted with confusion but he laughed as they sliced their way through the chaos.

  “Guess that is his lucky hat,” I said.

  “Jess,” someone said, putting a hand on my shoulder. My parents. I’d almost forgotten they were here.

  “We’re heading out. Need any help loading up?” Dad asked.

  “Nah, we’re cool.”

  Mom clung to his arm, a big grin on her face as she took in the atmosphere. Her eyes landed on Madison’s shirt, then she looked between the two of us and smiled.