by Sarah Tipton
Sawyer sneezed again. He jerked out of her grasp to shield his nose.
“Are you OK? You’re not getting sick or something, are you?”
“No.” He scowled, his nose twitching. “It’s that disgusting perfume you’re wearing. Smells like flower puke.”
Felicia pulled back, her chin trembling. Maybe she’d finally read his not-interested banner.
The singing started then leaving Sawyer trapped next to her. He tried breathing through his mouth, but then he tasted the smell which was worse. So he breathed shallowly and drummed his fingers against the pew end. One thing was for sure, if they did decide to replace Zoey as vocalist, Felicia wouldn’t make the cut.
After services ended, Sawyer bolted away from Felicia’s suffocating fumes and beat the crowd outside. He leaned against the building, inhaling fresh air and watching for Justin and Zoey. He was still ticked off by their accusation, but he needed a ride.
When Justin and Zoey exited, hand in hand, Sawyer fell in step next to them.
“There you are,” Justin said. “You coming over to practice?”
“Got nothing better to do.”
“Unless you found a girlfriend?” Zoey emphasized the last word.
“Huh?”
“You and Felicia? Sitting together?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“What? No!” Sawyer kicked a pebble. It bounced off a car’s rim.
“You make a cute couple.”
Sawyer clenched his teeth and made a sound like a growl. If he ever found a girlfriend, she’d have to understand and love music. The only person who even came close to that standard was Zoey. And she belonged to Justin.
Laughing, Justin punched the unlock button on his key ring, and Zoey opened the car’s passenger door.
“About accusing you earlier...” Justin stopped Sawyer before he got in the car. “Sorry, man.”
That was Justin—always willing to apologize.
Sawyer, jaw still tight, wanted to tell Justin off again. But a few hours with his sticks, and he’d beat away the accusations and memories of flowery girls. “Fine, whatever. I’ve gotta be at work by four.”
He yanked open the door and climbed inside. At least he’d be able to pretend they were still a band for a few hours.
If only he could believe they weren’t doomed.
6
Smothering Walls
Zoey strummed her bass strings, the music vibrating through Justin’s garage and her soul. A lazy Sunday afternoon practice—she hadn’t felt this relaxed in days. Sawyer had left for work a few minutes earlier taking his negative energy.
Justin sat on the ottoman facing her and harmonized on his electric, their chords floating into the summer air. He glanced at her. “You wanna practice your Aurora Fire songs?”
And there went her relaxing calm riding out the door on a misplayed chord.
“No.” Her fingers pressed against the fingerboard, the strings biting into her skin. “Not without the music.”
“C’mon.” Justin nudged her foot. “I’m sure you’ve got the words memorized by now.”
“I meant, I can’t sing without hearing the band.”
“Haven’t you memorized that too?”
“No!”
Justin flinched.
Goody, now she was neither relaxed nor nice. She forced a smile. “Sorry, but I was having fun. I don’t want to practice Aurora Fire stuff now, just our songs.”
“No problem.” Justin shrugged it off, and some of her calm returned. “Think you’ll be able to practice here again this week?”
“I don’t know.” She laid the bass across her lap. “I’m working a lot, and I’ve got Aurora Fire...”
“Every day?”
“Yeah, pretty much. No practice today or tomorrow, but I’m working until close tomorrow.”
“How about before work?”
“Livvy and I are going to the dentist.”
“Oh.” He hunched over the guitar watching his silent chord changes.
“You can go one day without seeing me, can’t you?” She linked her hand with his free one.
He looked up. “OK, yeah. One day. Does that mean you’re free Tuesday?”
“Not exactly.” She pulled away. “I’ve got work and a late practice after that. Same on Wednesday.”
“So I won’t see you until Thursday?”
Thursday was Mama’s birthday. Zoey rubbed her thumb along the necklace. She wouldn’t want to see anybody that day.
“What? You’re not free Thursday either? C’mon, Zo.”
“Sorry I have to work for my instruments.” She heard the annoyance in her voice. Annoyance she never felt around Justin. “What’s wrong with you anyway?”
“Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. Justin didn’t get upset like this—not with her. Should she argue or apologize?
“Are you mad at me for singing with Aurora Fire?” She tilted her head watching his expression. Was he hurt? Frustrated? Seeing Justin show negative emotion was strange. But it sparked something in her blood. “Because you agreed it was a good opportunity for me. And for our band.”
“But you’re so busy. You have no time to practice with us.”
And she missed their practices so much her soul ached. But playing with Justin and Sawyer hadn’t been going anywhere. “I’ve gotta get the songs down by Saturday.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Justin turned back on his I-love-you-no-matter-what expression. “Besides, you’re here now.”
“And I don’t have to leave anytime soon.” The calm returned, but instead of peaceful, Zoey felt drained.
“What d’you want to play next?”
“Uh.” Her phone rang. “Just a sec.”
She pulled it out and saw a text from Vance. Uh-oh.
Practice in 1 hr. B Here.
What little energy Zoey had left pooled from her. This was so not how she wanted to spend today. Yeah, she needed the practice, but she also needed a break.
“Something wrong?”
The thought of Bailee’s glares, and Vance’s commands, and her failures pulled her nerves into thin, tight strings. “I’ve got practice in an hour.”
“What?” The news wiped the support off his face. “You just said you didn’t have practice today.”
“And until five seconds ago, I didn’t.” She squatted on the floor and packed up her bass. “But I’ve got to go.”
“So maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll see you again this weekend?”
His harsh tone snapped her tense nerves. “What do you want me to do? I can’t skip practice.”
He was silent as if considering Zoey’s options. As if she had any. If she wanted to perform with Aurora Fire, she had to sing when they said sing.
“You could invite me.”
“Invite you?” Zoey froze then glanced up. His eager face begged her to say yes.
“I don’t have anything else to do.”
“It’s not a good idea.” For her or for him. No way could his supportive boyfriend role survive an Aurora Fire practice. She wasn’t sure it could survive an Aurora Fire concert, but that was Saturday’s problem.
“Why not?” He knelt next to her and her bass case. “Why don’t you want me there?”
How could she tell him it would be like bringing a too-loud conscience, and she couldn’t deal with that? “I don’t need you there distracting me.”
“I won’t distract you. Promise. I’ll just sit and listen and not say a word.”
“I said no, OK?” The words came out angrier than she expected.
“Fine.” He stood up. “Forget about it.”
The hurt in his voice plucked her heart. She tugged her necklace. He’d always been her biggest fan, besides Mama. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad especially if he promised not to speak. And maybe having him at a practice would help, not hurt, her singing.
“If you really promise not to say anything, you can come Tuesday.”
“Really?” His ey
es widened like an excited puppy. “Because I promise to do anything you ask.”
“Yeah, sure.” Zoey tried to match his excitement, but she felt annoyed. Why hadn’t he just accepted her no?
“Thanks, Zo.” He crossed the distance between them in three strides.
“But don’t complain if you don’t like it.”
“You’re singing. Of course, I’ll like it.” He pressed his lips against hers for a one-second kiss. “I’ll go tell my parents I’m giving you a ride home.”
He went into the house, and Zoey collapsed onto the chair. Mama’s birthday, Justin at practice...how would she survive this week?
~*~
“Zoey?”
At Dad’s voice, she paused on the stair landing, her bass case in her hand. “Yes?”
“Hi, there.” He twisted on the couch gazing up through the stair rails. “I haven’t seen much of you lately. You have a few minutes to spend with your old dad?”
She placed one foot on a step shifting her weight. “I’ve got band practice in forty-five minutes. And it’ll take me twenty minutes to walk there.”
“Then you’ve got twenty-five minutes to spend with me.” His eyes sparkled behind wire-framed glasses. “Forty, if I let you take my car.”
He was offering a chance not to walk in the heat? She’d take it. “Let me put my bass away first.”
She hurried upstairs to her room, then back down to the living room.
He switched off the news and patted the cushion next to him. “You’ve been so busy the past week, I feel like I’ve barely had a chance to say hi.”
“I know.” She tucked one foot underneath her as she sat down. “But you’ve been busy teaching too.”
“True. Guess we’re both to blame for missing each other.” He crossed his arms over his round stomach. Everything about him was round—his balding head, his glasses, his middle. “Won’t be long before you’re gone. One more year of school, and then you’ll be out of here.”
“Yeah, right.” She never daydreamed about moving out, being on her own permanently. This was home. “How many years ago did Livvy graduate? Four? You haven’t managed to get rid of her, so what makes you think I’ll be going anywhere?”
“You got me there. But you’ll be off touring with some band. Perhaps this new one Livvy was telling me about?”
Touring? She wished. At the rate she was going, she’d be lucky to survive beyond the first concert. “It’s only for the summer.”
“Your other band then.”
“Maybe.” She wished she felt an echo of his confidence. Would Mama cheer her on if she were here? Zoey glanced over her shoulder at the pictures on the wall. In the center, surrounded by a hodge-podge of school pictures and digital snapshots, sat the last family portrait—taken in the hospital. Mama was smiling, her face pale and thin, the scarf she wore to hide her chemotherapy baldness almost swallowing her head. One hand rested on a twelve-year-old Zoey, the other on a seventeen-year-old Livvy.
Six months later, she’d died.
Dad followed Zoey’s gaze. “Mama would be proud of you.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” He stretched out his arm inviting her in for a hug.
She cuddled into his squishy side, and he wrapped his arm around her. For a few moments, Zoey felt like the innocent little girl who’d believed in unicorns, and fairy princesses, and miracles. The innocent little girl who didn’t know the words cancer, or death, or pain. The innocent little girl who believed God answered prayers and dreams.
“Mama’s birthday is next week,” Dad said.
“Yeah, I know.” The magic of the moment disappeared.
“I was thinking we could do something different.”
“What?” She jerked away. “Different? But we always celebrate by fixing her favorite meal—pot roast and vegetables with chocolate cake for dessert. Then we play Scrabble. Every year just like when she was still...here.”
“I know. But with everyone being so busy this year—”
“We’re not that busy. Not too busy to remember Mama’s birthday.” She pulled her necklace out from under her shirt. How could he suggest not celebrating this year? He’d been married to Mama. Didn’t he miss her?
“OK, OK, we’ll stick with tradition.” He tugged her back into his side. “If that’s what you and Livvy want.”
“Yes, please.” Singing with Aurora Fire instead of Justin and Sawyer was the only change she could handle right now. “You still want to celebrate Mama’s birthday, don’t you?”
“Of course.” He answered quickly, maybe too quickly, but as long as they remembered Mama, it was good enough.
She relaxed against him. Mama’s birthday and Zoey’s singing—those were the things that kept Mama alive. Zoey could never let them go.
They kept her alive too.
7
Come Back Home
Justin pulled up to the curb in front of the house Zoey pointed out. The dull brown and white exterior wasn’t impressive. The paint flaked, the gutters dangled, and the shutters hung crooked. But home maintenance skills had nothing to do with music.
“You promised not to say anything.” Zoey gave him a pointed look, as if she didn’t trust him.
“I remember.” He tried not to sound offended but wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Want me to put duct tape over my mouth?”
She didn’t look amused. “The lyrics aren’t like ours, OK? Just remember your promise.”
When had Zoey stopped trusting him? He’d asked to see her lyrics again, still curious about her new songs, but she made excuses like, “I’ve scribbled too much on them.” Scribbled what? He’d seen the notes she made to herself about pitch and pacing on her old lyric sheets—his lyric sheets. But with Aurora Fire’s music, she was so secretive.
Pushing aside his worries, he climbed out of the car, and they walked through the overgrown grass. She led the way through the unlocked front door, as if she belonged. But she’d known Aurora Fire less than two weeks.
He squinted in the dark interior and took a deep breath, his nose wrinkling against the strange mixture of ramen noodles and body odor with the hint of something like pizza.
Zoey dropped his hand, and he followed her down a flight of stairs.
Stepping into the basement, he forgot his annoyance. This was the practice space he’d fantasized about. Florescent lighting shone on a rack of shining guitars—three electric, two acoustic—amps and speakers. Against one wall a computer, headphones, and recording equipment sat on a desk. He practically drooled. Maybe they could find room for him.
“Hey, Zoey.”
The voice behind him tugged at a memory. He tore his gaze away from the practice setup.
“Hi,” Zoey said.
Justin stared, recognition pouring over him like ice water. The hair was longer, and he was taller, but Justin knew Vance Barton. He’d been like a big brother to Justin—until everyone found out about their parents’ affair.
“You moved back.” Justin said the first thing that popped into his head.
Vance’s face clouded for a moment. “Justin Conrad? No way.” His lip curled. “I hear your parents are still pretending to be happily married.”
“They are happy.” Justin’s hands tightened into fists.
“That’s so cute. But time to grow up, kid.” The big brother tone Justin remembered was now lost to bitterness. “Women lie, cheat, manipulate, destroy. You can never trust ’em.”
Justin glanced at Zoey. He trusted her. But the look on her face wasn’t trusting. Too late, he remembered his promise. He hadn’t even kept quiet for five minutes.
“Isn’t it time to practice?” Zoey glanced back and forth between them and twisted her necklace.
“Yeah, whatever.” Vance shot Justin a glare and moved to yell up the stairs. “Get down here and practice!”
Justin’s shoulders ached. He didn’t know what he’d expected exactly, but it wasn’t this. Zoey’s frown said she regretted let
ting him come, and he regretted it too. But what had happened between his and Vance’s parents was in the past. Right now he needed to make sure he stayed in Zoey’s future.
“You can sit over here.” Zoey tugged him to the beat-up couch facing the amps and speakers.
Stains overlapped on the pale green cushions, and foam peaked out where the fabric had worn a hole. Justin sat down, his nostrils flaring at the stench of dog. He glanced around. The equipment looked less shiny now.
Feet thundered down the stairs. Then three guys and a girl walked into the room and took their positions.
“Who’re you?” The girl flopped onto the couch beside him. Her shoulder-length hair was cotton-candy pink, and she had as many rings in her ears as she had on her hands.
“Justin.” He smiled, but his friendliness wasn’t reflected on her face. “Zoey’s boyfriend.”
“Really? Huh.” Her gaze rolled over him. “I totally didn’t expect her to go for the boy-next-door cliché.”
Justin glanced at his striped tee and unripped jeans. At least Mom had quit ironing a crease down his pant legs.
A few feet away, Vance gave directions to Zoey and the guys, but Zoey was eyeing him and the girl. Zoey fit in with her black skinny jeans and local band tee.
“So what’s your name?” He attempted conversation with the girl.
“Bailee.” She smacked her gum, a fresh, fruity stick based on the smell of it and nodded toward the drummer. “I’m with Myles.”
Aurora Fire started tuning. Justin watched Zoey. Her lips moved silently running over the lyrics between sips of water.
“Your girlfriend better step it up.” Bailee sounded like the band’s manager issuing ultimatums and threats.
Zoey glanced up.
“What d’you mean?” Justin asked.
“I mean, she better figure out whatever her problem is before Saturday. She’s not going to mess things up.”
Zoey lowered her gaze back to the paper in her hand, but her cheeks reddened.
“That won’t happen.” His hands curled into fists again. What was with this crowd and their insults? “Zoey’s good.”
Bailee snorted and flipped open a magazine. “You obviously haven’t heard her lately.”
He looked at Zoey. The edges of the paper crumpled within her fists.
