Come Friday

by Brooke St. James

  By the time we got to the spot where we were headed, we realized that someone's purse was on one of the stools and there were actually only two seats available. It still seemed like a good spot for the time being, considering how busy it was in there, so Chasidy and I sat on the stools, and Luke stood between us with his back to the wall, staring into the room.

  There were so many sights and sounds to take in that I hardly knew where to look first. There was a backdrop of red and black with decorations that seemed somehow old world and industrial at the same time. The music was loud and so was the crowd noise. I wasn't accustomed to going out, and more than once during those first few minutes, I considered calling a cab to take me home.

  "Someone else is playing tonight," Luke said once we got settled.

  I had seen the handbill on the way inside, and I knew Firsthand had an opening act. Seeing as how I was already in the middle of contemplating leaving, I didn't need him to remind me of this.

  "They're only gonna play for like thirty minutes," Chasidy said, leaning over to speak loudly so I could hear her. She must've seen my reluctance because she was speaking directly to me as if she meant to reassure me. "I need to use the loo," she added. "Do you want to come with me?"

  I glanced around. I didn't need to use the restroom and I didn't necessarily feel like going with her, but I knew that some girls didn't like to go alone, so I figured I'd offer just to be nice. She and my brother had only been together for a few months, so I still wasn't sure if she was the type of girl who required restroom accompaniment or not. "I don't need to go, but I'll walk with you if you want me to," I said.

  She shook her head. "No worries," she said. "I don't mind going alone." She kissed my brother on the cheek before she took off, and I looked away in an effort to give them a little privacy.

  I caught sight of Wes Bishop when I glanced toward the bar. He was standing there talking to another gentleman in an official manner, both of them making hand gestures like they were working something out. I thought the other man might be the pub owner or the sound guy, but there was no way for me to tell. It could be his best friend for all I knew. I tried to look away, but I found it impossible. He had no idea I had found him in the crowd, therefore I could stare all I wanted without him ever knowing.

  I found it extremely difficult to peel my eyes off of him. I actually tried looking away for a split second and succeeded before figuring out that I was unable to stand it. I looked back at him again. I couldn't see the bottom half of his body, but from the chest up, he was a complete and total rock star. He had on a white collarless, three-button shirt with a distressed denim jacket. He had something around his neck, and from where I stood, it looked like strands of metal, leather, or both. His hair was mostly combed back with pieces of it hanging loose over his forehead and ears, giving him a perfectly carefree appearance. His looks were so appealing to me that I was tempted to take out my phone and snap a picture of him from a distance just so I could go back and look at it later.

  He turned and smiled and nodded at someone standing behind him. I smiled and nodded right along with him, feeling like I was completely transfixed. Then I realized why he was smiling and nodding. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who wanted his picture. I watched as a young woman came to stand next to him, holding out her phone to pose for a selfie with him.

  "Is that Wes?" Luke asked from his place next to me, causing me to snap out of my reverie.

  "Where?" I asked, looking around and feigning innocence.

  "Right there where you were staring," Luke said. He reached out, using his finger to point right at Wes, and I pulled his arm down instantly.

  "I think it is," I said nervously.

  "You like him," he said.

  "So does everyone else," I said frankly.

  "I hope you know never to mention what I told you about his family," he said.

  "I probably won't even talk to him," I said. "But yes, I do know that."

  "Don't even mention it to Chasidy," he said. "I probably shouldn't have even told you. He's gone this long in London without anyone knowing his story, and I think he wants to keep it that way. I think Amos and Randall are the only ones at the shop who even know who he is. Amos made a strict point of telling me not to tell anybody."

  "Who would I tell?" I asked.

  He shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. I just didn't want you to accidentally mention it. Not even to Chasidy. I meant to tell you that earlier and I forgot."

  "I don't have any reason to talk about it," I said.

  "Okay good, because he's coming over here."

  It took a second for my brother's words to register. I was looking straight at him when he said that, so my back was turned to Wes. "You're kidding," I said, still staring at my brother.

  He continued to stare in the direction of Wes. I watched as he smiled and waved.

  "Please tell me you're not trying to get his attention right now, Luke."

  "Too late," Luke said. "He already saw us. He's coming over here."

  I subtly reached out and pinched my brother on the back of his arm. I pinched him hard enough that he pulled away and said, "Ouch, Jo."

  "Stop messing with me, then."

  "I'm not messing with you. Turn around and see for yourself. Wes is walking over here. I swear."

  My heart was beating like mad—I felt as though it might pop right out of my chest. I was breathless and overwhelmed. "I'm going to be so mad at you if you're lying, Luke."

  "I'm not lying, and for the record, I was totally right about you being in love with this guy."

  "I'm definitely not in love with him. He's just really good looking, obviously."

  I was frustrated with myself for being so nervous. I wanted to go back to the Jolene I was last evening when I walked into the motorcycle shop and was able to talk to him and shoot darts without my heart feeling like it wanted to hop out of my chest. I told myself I was just as bad as his model girlfriend for being infatuated now that I knew so much about him. I told myself it had nothing to do with Wes and I was just nervous because he was Courtney Cole's brother-in-law. All of these thoughts crossed my mind in those split seconds before I turned and saw that my brother was right.

  Wes Bishop was indeed crossing the pub, headed right straight specifically in our direction. He saw me turn and look at him, and he smiled and waved at me. I felt like I could just jump right out of my own skin. I was experiencing sensory overload. Music was playing, and people were talking and laughing. There was noise and motion everywhere, and crossing the room heading straight for me was a gorgeous, mysterious, hunk of a man. He waved again, and I realized that I had been so enraptured that I had just stood there and ignored him the first time. I felt my brother's finger jab into my side, and I squirmed instinctually as I waved back at Wes.

  It took a few more seconds for him to make his way through the crowd. Someone reached out to get his attention as he walked, and he smiled and nudged his chin at them but otherwise continued heading toward us. I really did feel like I could come undone watching him cross the room, and I chastised myself inwardly for it.

  Wes didn't seem to be freaking out at all. He strode toward us with a handsome grin, looking as confident as ever. Once he finally reached us, he leaned over me to greet my brother. He gave him a half hug with a few pats on the back.

  "Good to see you, Luke. I'm glad y'all made it."

  I loved that he was American. It felt good to hear somebody say y'all and not just in an over-exaggerated way that was imitating an American accent.

  He pulled back and looked at me. "JoJo," he said with a big smile.

  I reached out to shake his hand, but he hugged me instead. "I know your name is Jolene, but I heard your brother calling you JoJo, so I figured that's your nickname."

  I leaned over so that I could speak closer to Wes's ear. "Luke's the only one who calls me Jo, actually. He and my dad."

  "Oh, so you want me to call you Jolene?" Wes asked.

  "No,
not necessarily. I'm just saying, that's what everybody calls me. No one calls me Jo or JoJo except for Luke and Dad."

  "Nobody calls me Wesley except for my mom," he said. "But I'll answer to it if you want to call me that."

  "Is Wesley your real name?" I asked.

  He nodded. He was standing so close to me that I could smell him. I tried to seem unaffected. He casually put his arm out and rested it on the bar next to me. This caused my brother to poke me again. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind not to squirm or otherwise acknowledge it.

  "How did it go at your mom's birthday dinner last night?" Wes asked.

  "It went well. We ate sushi."

  "I love sushi," he said.

  "It's our mom's favorite," Luke said. "Jo's too. She scarfed down like twenty pieces of salmon."

  I shot him a playful grimace, which caused both him and Wes to laugh.

  "What'd you get your mom for her birthday?" Wes asked.

  His question took me a little off guard. He seemed sincere and curious when he asked it. I could see just by how he phrased that one simple question that he had a genuine respect for family ties. This seemed odd for someone who basically ignored his own family, but I pretended not to think twice about it.

  "A couple of shirts and some coffee," I said since there was nothing else for me to do but tell him the truth. "And a card. I drew her a card. I make one for her every year."

  "Jo's cards are always my mom's favorite gift," Luke said. "I bought her this big Dutch oven that cost like two hundred pounds, and all she could talk about was Jo's card."

  My brother was not the type to mention money. He only said that to brag on me. Besides, I was almost certain that pot he bought her hadn't cost nearly two hundred pounds. Wes smiled a genuine smile as if really enjoying this bit of information and wanting to know more.

  "So, your mom likes hand-drawn cards," he said. "Sounds like my type of lady. Mine does too, actually. She hangs on to all that sentimental stuff."

  "Jo's are special," Luke said, still bragging. "She's a great artist, and she always thinks of some funny way to depict Mom. Our mom is posing for our dad on this big art project he's doing, and she has to sit for hours at a time, so Jo drew the whole scene with Mom in costume and her eyes being held open with toothpicks."

  "Aw, that's awesome," Wes said. He stared at me like he was truly impressed. He was such a genuine person. I could just tell that by his expression. "I remember you saying you were a graphic designer, but I didn't consider that must mean you're an artist as well."

  "Moms just like anything homemade," I said. "It's a rule with them, I think. She's got boxes and boxes of all our stuff."

  "Mine does too," Wes said. "The last time I was at home, my little sister drug me into the attic, and we got some of it down. I can't believe all the stuff my mom has kept all these years."

  I was somewhat stunned that Wes was speaking so openly about going home and his family—especially after what Luke had just said about keeping it under wraps. Luke must have been feeling the same way because we are both quiet for a moment.

  "I looked up your YouTube videos," Wes said.

  "You did?" I asked.

  He nodded. "I was curious about it, so I asked your brother for your channel name. I'm impressed. I didn't realize you would have such a nice production space. Where do you film? In a studio?"

  I laughed. "In my living room."

  "That's your living room?"

  "Yes."

  "With that big target on the wall?"

  I smiled and nodded.

  "Do you think you could teach me?" he asked.

  "Sure, I teach people all the time," I said. "That's what the videos are for. You can search my stuff easily. I post right in the title if it's a basic or introductory skill. I even post links so you can find out what types of knives I'm using during the demonstration and where to buy them."

  "Yeah, but I don't want to learn from your video," he said. "I don't have anywhere to practice. I was hoping I could just come over and you could give me a lesson. Or we could maybe meet at the dealership if you don't feel comfortable with me coming to your house. I just think I'd do better if I took a lesson in person rather than trying to learn from a video."

  "I've never given a lesson in person," I said.

  He smiled and held his palms upward. "There's always a first time for everything."

  "I've had a few viewers who know I live in London message me and ask how much I would charge, but I always tell them I don't do it."

  "Not for any price?" Wes asked.

  I let out a laugh. "Maybe for some price, but I’m not really into inviting random subscribers into my living room."

  "I don't blame you," he said, "but I'm not random, and I'll pay any price."

  "Any price?" I asked, grinning at him.

  "Any price," he said seriously. "Name it, and I'll pay."

  I wanted to tell him I would do it for free.

  I wanted to tell him I would pay him to come take a lesson, but I knew I had to play it cool.

  I shook my head, faking disinterest. "I'm too expensive," I said.

  He leaned in to speak closer to my ear. "I'm super rich," he said. "I have more money than I know what to do with."

  I pulled back, staring at him with a little bit of confusion, and he grinned at me and nudged his chin, telling me to come closer again. I leaned in to hear what else he had to say.

  "Seriously. Tell me how much you'd charge to teach me how to throw a knife, and I'll pay it."

  Chapter 6

  Wes moved in front of us, holding a hand out to offer my brother a hi-five-ish handshake maneuver. "I better get going," he said. "Your sister just agreed to teach me how to throw knives, so give her my number, if you don't mind."

  Luke nodded. "Will do," he said.

  Wes glanced at me. "Give me a text tomorrow, and we'll set something up."

  He was already positioned to walk away when he said that, so I didn't have the presence of mind to do anything but I agree with him. "Okay, "I said with a nod even though I hadn't agreed to anything.

  He smiled at me and turned to walk toward the stage area. Luke faced me instantly, wearing an intense expression. "What'd he say? What did he say to you?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Wes," he said. "When he whispered to you. What did he say?"

  "He asked me to teach him how to throw knives. He said he didn't want to learn from my videos."

  "I heard that part," Luke said. "What'd he whisper?"

  "He was just saying he'd pay me anything to do it. I told him I was too expensive, just joking or whatever, and he said he was rich and he'd pay anything."

  Luke made a face at that—one of complete confusion. "He told you he was rich?" he asked.

  "Yeah, but he was just joking. He was trying to get me to agree to give him a lesson."

  "Still," Luke said. "He doesn't go around telling people he has money. That's so weird."

  "It wasn't like that," I said. "He was just messing around—trying to get me to teach him."

  "He also mentioned his family," Luke said. "He said something about his family."

  I remembered that part of our exchange—how he told us about his little sister dragging him into the attic to look through their old stuff. "You're over thinking it," I said to my brother even though I was totally over thinking it too. "He mentioned his family, but it's not like he mentioned who they were."

  My brother shook his head at me like he wasn't quite convinced. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something else, but Chasidy returned just before he could speak.

  "I saw your friend," she said to my brother. "I waved at him, and he waved back but I don't think he knew who I was."

  "We saw him," Luke said. "He came over here while you were gone."

  "Did he say what time the show's supposed to start?" she asked.

  "No," Luke said. "We didn't ask him that."

  For a second, I was afraid that my brother
might tell his girlfriend that Wes was interested in taking a lesson from me, but he didn’t say anything about it or give her any other details about our conversation. I loved my brother for that. He was loyal to Chasidy, and he was a good boyfriend, but he didn't ramble on about things.

  We moved on to talking about other things like the pizza being served there at the venue. We had already eaten tacos before we arrived, but Luke kept seeing pizzas come past us, so he ended up ordering one despite the fact that he wasn't really hungry.

  The opening band came onstage just before nine. Chasidy was right; they only played about five or six songs before announcing Wes's band. Firsthand was in full swing by ten o'clock. Wes was no-doubt the leader of the band, the star of the show. He was front and center with a black electric guitar strapped over his shoulder. By the end of the first song, I was convinced that they should rename their band to Wes and the Firsthands or some other name that made it obvious that he was the star—because he was. He interacted with the band, but all eyes were on him as they performed.

  I had seen them perform at Katie's birthday, but there was a lot going on and I was so distracted by my friends that I hadn't been able to fully appreciate his musicianship. That wasn't the case this evening. Chasidy talked to my brother and he responded to her, but I was glad I hadn't brought a friend along because it freed me up to just stand there and watch the band.

  Wes had a bluesy, soulful way about performing that reminded me of a grittier version of John Mayer. He was compelling to watch, and that's what I did. I just sat there and watched him. I really and truly enjoyed the show, and I was glad I had come out.

  Halfway through the set, he took off his denim jacket and tossed it to the side. He was doing it because he was hot, but it caused all the ladies in the audience to yell out, which made me both happy and jealous at the same time. His white shirt was tight fitting and he pushed up the long sleeves revealing his muscular forearms. Everything about him made my heart race. He adjusted his guitar, grinning at the crowd's reaction to his jacket-shedding as he moved to stand closer to the microphone. He had his pic in his hand as he reached out and brought the microphone to his lips.