by K. S. Thomas
“How many does it take to look like that?” I whisper, leaning close to get a better look at her eye shadow.
She pulls back, eyeing me with a healthy combo of mistrust and discomfort. “How many ‘what’ does it take?”
“Gay elves. How many? I know you have them. I mean, I spent an hour getting ready and I still only look like this.”
Blaise laughs out loud.
Ava is less impressed. “You’re an idiot. This is left over from last night. We had an appearance, remember? Jules came by to get me ready before and this crap is like permanent lacquer. Plus, I overslept, so I didn’t have time to wash my hair. This is not the result of magic homosexual elves, or even extra effort on my part. It’s merely a side effect of exerting no effort whatsoever.”
Now that she mentions it, I do remember Jules coming over. I guess I spaced it since I wasn’t included in the outing. While Ava was getting ready for a night of glamor and general fabulousness, I’d split off and snuck into this dive bar on the edge of town to check out a new band I’d heard about from this kid Dexter back at school. We weren’t friends so much as I just stalked him on Twitter. He was the school paper’s music reviewer and he knew where all the happening new sounds were coming from.
Apparently, I’ve been silent a while. It’s a bad habit of mine. Internalizing my own dialogue, following random trails of thought. Gives other people way too much time to read into my silence. Kinda like Ava is doing now.
“Where were you last night anyway?”
Living with my sister and Blaise had seemed like a good idea when I got kicked out of school and had nowhere to go. Now, I’m starting to have mixed feelings about it more and more frequently. Not that living with them doesn’t come with a great deal of perks. I mean, the house alone is like something straight out of an episode of MTV Cribs.
But, regardless of how nice it is to have an entire corner of the house to myself, or how sweet the Jag is Blaise finally decided was my permanent ride, there simply is no compensating for the fact that I have apparently forfeited all rights to my freedom, along with any sense of privacy, by moving in. Ava is in my business every second of every motherfucking day, and it’s really starting to wear on me.
“Relax, Eda. I was just up the road at the Bistro.” A real shit hole that didn’t think twice about ignoring the fact that I forgot my ID and I don’t exactly look old for my age.
“Fantastic.” Ava rolls her eyes at me. “I thought we agreed. It’s time to grow the fuck up, Addy.”
“Shit, Eda. What exactly is so non-adult like about me going out to listen to some music? I didn’t drink and I was home way before you. I really don’t see what the fucking problem is.” I yank my giant hobo bag off the counter and stomp my feet all the way to the front door. I have no freaking clue which car we’re taking and I’ve never been to the studio, so I can’t drive myself, which leaves me standing in the driveway pouting like a four year old. And suddenly I feel like Ava’s little outburst, condescending as it was, is all the more accurate.
Thankfully, Ava and Blaise aren’t far behind and I don’t have time to change my mind about waiting outside and walking back in with the proverbial tail stuck between my legs.
My sister stops right next to me, tilting her head down to peer out at me over her gigantic sunglasses.
“This music business. You’re serious about it.” It’s a statement. I think. But it’s in need of confirmation, so I nod.
“More serious than you could possibly imagine.”
She pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with her index finger and nods once. “Alright.”
I frown automatically. This is Ava we’re talking about. Nothing is ever that simple. “Alright?”
“Yeah. Alright. If you want to pursue music, like professionally, I’ll help you. Show you things. Like, how to get into clubs the VIP way to check out new talent, for example.”
Blaise, who was slowly meandering toward the cars, stops mid step. “What exactly do you know about getting into clubs to check out new talent?”
“A whole fucking lot, actually. In case you don’t remember, once upon a time people were coming into dive bars to check you out and I made it my business to talk to each and every one of them.” I swear, as badass as Blaise thinks he is, he’s got nothing on Ava.
“Oh. Good.” Then he turns toward me. “So, you want to produce music or manage a band like your sister?”
I actually laugh out loud at that one. “Are you kidding me? Do I want to manage a band? No fucking thank you. Like I want any part of trying to wrangle a bunch of drama queens pumped up on testosterone and inflated egos.”
Even my sister is grinning. Because she knows it’s true.
So does Blaise apparently, since his mouth only opens briefly to allow for an awkward silence before he shuts it again and does a little sideways nod admitting his defeat. I swear he looks like he’s in actual, physical pain from the insult.
“Well, now that I’m sorry I asked, can we get in the damn car? I’d actually like to get to the studio sometime today.”
“Lead the way, your highness,” Ava says, clearly holding in a laugh.
I don’t bother making any such attempts and snicker my way down the driveway to the Range Rover we seem to be traveling in today.
“You’re awfully brave for someone who could be homeless at any given moment,” Blaise grumbles as we all climb into our seats.
“Damn, B. Way to kill the mood.” Laughing was such a pleasant alternative to the panic attack I’m trying to keep at bay the closer we get to actually making it to the studio. It’s all fine and good to tell myself repeatedly to have confidence in my skills, but it’s so much harder to really do so when I’m the only one who’s ever heard me play. For all I know, I have no skills. I could be completely talentless and about to make a total ass of myself. There’s no way to know but to just go for it and let the chips fall where they may.
There’s also the issue of seeing Angel again after actively avoiding him since our little collision in his bed, but today, I’m not going anywhere near that one. Ain’t nobody got time for that kind of anxiety.
As Blaise pulls the Rover out into traffic, he and Ava fall into their regular rhythm of mixing shoptalk with uber-disgusting sweetsieness which makes me want to barf up my coffee. So, I do the only thing I can do and remain completely silent while I mentally contemplate my life and the results of the decisions I’ve made thus far, not counting the Angel thing. They haven’t been stellar by any stretch of the imagination, but if they led me here to this moment where I’m about to begin the career of my dreams, I suppose they haven’t been all bad.
I still have mixed emotions about everything when we pull up in front of the studio and the Rover comes to a halt.
“Ready?” Ava’s smiling back at me over her shoulder. She knows I’m a nervous wreck. I’m not hiding squat from her even if she doesn’t know the whole reason. Maybe I am hiding a little something.
“Yep.” Saying anything else would only lead to spilling my guts right here and now and there really is no logical reason to go there. Not while Blaise is sitting right here and the threat of evicting me is still in the air.
Inside, Derek and Angel are already getting friendly with their instruments. It’s weird. But they really do treat them like they’re living beings, not objects made of wood, metal and strings. Meanwhile, Brett is standing over along the wall, playing with the string of his tea bag while he lets it steep.
“Good morning, boy and girls. It’s been a while.” Completely mellow and chill, Brett’s no different today than he was at Royce’s wedding. The one and only time I’ve met him. Aside from the fact that’s he’s not wearing a suit jacket, he’s even dressed the same. Birkenstocks, washed out jeans and a white T-shirt. Add to that his tats, beard and man-bun, and he’s about the sexiest damn hippie I’ve ever met.
“’S’up, man.” Blaise leans in for one of those half hug, half handshake things dudes do before
Ava wriggles her way into the mix and embraces the man full on. Sometimes it’s weird watching her interact with other people. Our family isn’t affectionate. Ever. Only, apparently that’s just with one another.
“Brett, you remember my sister, Addison?” She’s holding her arm out in my direction and I take my cue to take a step closer to shake his hand.
“Thanks so much for giving me this opportunity.” I’m smiling so hard it’s probably more creepy than pleasant.
“Absolutely. Ava’s word is golden around here. She’s says you’re the woman for the job, I believe her.” Of course, his little grin is kind and heartwarming. Combine that with his encouraging words and I’m ready to run from the building. What was I thinking? I’m putting not just my own reputation on the line here, but Ava’s as well. Then again, that’s about as solid as a reason I need not to bolt but to stay and see this through. More than I want this for myself, I don’t want to disappoint my sister.
Right around now, I’m thinking I might have to say something again to move the conversation along to a less ‘me’ oriented place, but then, just as I open my mouth, his tea is ready and he gets distracted tossing out the bag and stirring in a hefty dose of honey and cinnamon. My eyes are glued to the process, because I know damn well, step one to interning successfully will be perfecting the man’s beverage.
Less than an hour goes by before I see Brett’s hand move out to the side blindly and I quickly fill his empty palm with a fresh tumbler of tea. He turns briefly and smiles an appreciative half-grin in my direction. Day one of my internship and I am killing it. Even with my big sister watching my every move.
Brett leans in over his mic to talk to the boys in the live room. “That was awesome guys. Let’s take five. I wanna throw around some ideas on the chorus.”
They all nod and grunt a variety of things, all of which come out to meaning they agree. Next thing I know, they’re all spilling into the small room. Blaise, Derek, Royce and Angel.
Watching them wander in, I have this weird surreal experience, like Finding Nolan – the band I just watched play for the last hour, and Finding Nolan – the annoying teenage boys who used to crash our garage and raid our fridge every day of the week, sort of collide into one. It’s crazy. I’ve seen them in concert. And I’ve seen them standing in my mother’s kitchen. The two just haven’t ever overlapped before.
According to everyone in the old neighborhood, they’re all kind of like my adopted big brothers. Well, everyone except for stupid Stacey Maccabee, who always took the other angle and considered me Finding Nolan’s very first groupie because jealousy was eating her alive. If only it had taken a chunk out of her big ass.
Personally, I prefer neither. I already have three brothers to start with. Then there’s Blaise who will likely be my brother in law at some point. Royce is my sister’s BFF which makes him like an extension of her. Derek, I don’t know, he feels more cousin than anything else. And Angel...well, clearly my feelings for him have never been anywhere near the realm of sisterly.
“What’s up, Bam Bam?”
Angel makes me blush just by looking in my direction. And then I’m instantly annoyed by the way he seems completely unbothered by my presence. As if this isn’t the least bit awkward for him. I guess that’s where whoring it up comes in handy. You get used to run-ins with people you’ve randomly slept with.
“Nothing much,” I mumble and hurry to find something super important to focus on. Which becomes suddenly impossible when I notice him following me.
“Was starting to think you’d gone into hiding or something after the last time I saw you.” Ah ha! So he is freaking out a little. Well, that’s something.
Meanwhile, I’ve got no good answer. I have been hiding from him. “Yeah. I’ve been keeping pretty busy checking out the local music scene. Was at the Bistro last night listening to some killer new stuff.”
Angel’s face goes from smiling uncomfortably to slightly offended, but I’m pretty sure he’s messing with me. “So, wait a minute. You can drag me to every store in the state to look at sofas but you can’t take me to go check out some music?”
“I guess I figured you get plenty of music exposure, plus I hit way more bars than I’ve hit furniture stores. What can I say? I’m a music whore.” I emphasize the word whore. I don’t know why. Maybe I want him to think I’m sleeping with every drummer who crosses my path. Maybe that would make this less awkward somehow. Because I don’t feel like myself around him anymore. I feel like I’m eleven again and I’ve got the flirting skills as such when I’m standing face to face with him. It’s pathetic.
But he just shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure the term whore doesn’t apply to you, even regarding music. Meanwhile, the next time you get the lo-down on some good live music, don’t hold out on a guy.”
Oh my God. I know he didn’t actually just ask me out, but damn, my little eleven year old brain is jumping up and down like maybe he did suggest we go on a date. Only he didn’t. But he did say he wanted to go listen to music. With me. Which really means nothing. Except somehow, it means everything. Because Angel doesn’t mix relationships with sex. And we’ve had sex. So maintaining our relationship, whatever it is, shouldn’t be a part of the equation.
“Well, if you’re really interested, this kid Dex I know mentioned that this chick Nina Nu is playing down at Rusty’s tonight. She’s supposed to have a kickass voice. I’ve actually been wanting to check her out for a while, but I keep missing her.” I’m not stupid. I know Rusty’s is like a second home to him. It’s where Finding Nolan first got their big break and it’s my best shot at getting an evening of his undivided attention. Well, depending on how kickass this Nina Nu really is, I guess.
“Rusty’s? Hell yeah. Count me in for some Nina Nu.”
I’m pretty sure I’m about to faint and then Derek’s voice slaps me back into consciousness. “I’m in, too. I could use a fucking night out.”
I want to tell him that he could use a fucking cheese burger and a blood transfusion based on his bony little arms and pale as fuck skin, but I don’t. “Awesome. The more the merrier.” I have to clear my throat to keep from choking on that last bit. I knew it’d been too good to be true the second I heard Angel say ‘hell yeah’.
***
I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly pissed at Derek. Maybe it’s just because he’s back to staying at my house since last Friday and I feel like I’ve spent every waking minute with him since then so I need a fucking breather. Actually, that’s probably not it, but I’m going to go with that one anyway.
“Cool. We should ask the others. Make it a family night.” Which is what I should have suggested in the first place. I don’t know what I was even thinking considering spending an evening with Bam Bam. In a bar. Alone. That shit has bad news written all over it. And yet, that’s precisely what I was angling for when I mentioned wanting to check out some new music with her. I’ve missed her. Worse. I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw her. And I should stop thinking about it. Fuck. I should erase it from my mind all together and pray that she does the same. But I don’t. I fucking can’t.
“Family night. Definitely.” Her expression doesn’t exactly match her words, although it goes perfectly with the sarcastic tone. “Can’t get enough of those around here.”
I laugh. Then she laughs, too and that same puking sensation I had in my gut when she first walked in here this morning comes back with a vengeance. It’s the same way I feel every time I’m about to step out on stage. The feeling I get from having to face thousands of people. I’ve never once experienced it from just facing one. Until now.
Automatically, I search the room for the back of Royce’s head. It’s a weird instinct, but not surprisingly, it works in settling my nerves same as it does during a show.
Still avoiding eye contact, I keep talking to her. “I guess you’re still spending a lot of time with Ava and Blaise, huh?”
“Actually, checking out new bands from time to
time was kinda my only chance to get away from them. So, you know, thanks for blocking that escape route for the near future.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see the side of her mouth etch up into a half smirk. It’s almost strange how much she’s like Ava. And even stranger how much she’s not. Because Ava has for damn sure never made me feel this way.
“Sorry, Bam Bam.”
“No worries. Just don’t expect me to share the scoop with you again anytime soon. I know I said I was a music whore, but shit. Turn my secret music tip into an orgy why don’t you?!”
And I want to puke again. Because for the first time in my adult life, the word orgy doesn’t bring a single dirty thought to mind.
Chapter 10
“What’s with the camera?” I nod at the giant lens attached to Hudson’s Cannon. Then I think how dirty that sounded in my mind.
“I’m a photographer.” No shit.
“Yeah. I got that. I just thought your gig shooting the band was over with. Why are you carting that thing around on our night out?”
I kinda hate having my picture taken and I’m already getting my fill of it these days every time I step out the front door thanks to my new hand-me-down celebrity status. Not that I expect to be at the receiving end of his shutter a whole lot. I’m just not looking to photobomb any shots of Ava and Blaise, or anyone else for that matter.
“The gig is over. But, I’m still a photographer. So...you know, I kinda like to take pictures.” Hudson’s a jackass. And, I kinda think I might love him.
