“Why? You made up your mind. You’re already gone.”
“No, I’m not.” Candy sobbed. God, she was out here on the street crying like a kid. So humiliating. “I love you and I want to take the job so I can see more of you and help your career. Please, don’t make me choose.”
“Why? Because you’ll choose the job?”
“No, because I won’t be able to have either. Please, don’t leave me.”
He stared at her face. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“So, you’re going to walk away? That doesn’t make any sense. Please, can’t you trust me? I don’t love him. I love you. All the money in the world wouldn’t make me leave you.”
Tyler stroked her cheek. “You’re getting all wet.”
Candy’s teeth chattered. According to her English teacher, Mrs. Van Wick, April was the cruelest month, but right now, May was kicking its ass.
“Come on. Let’s go back inside and get you warmed up.” He guided her back to the house. Inside, he held her. Candy clung to him. She still wanted this job. Needed it.
But if he really wanted her not to take it, she’d tell Joe to forget it. It would have to be one more year dividing her time between school, the store, and the band. Then four years of dividing her time between college, the store, and the band. Unless they broke up before then. How bad could it be?
“This is really important to you.”
“Forget it.” Candy pressed her cheek against his chest. “I’ll work it out somehow.”
“It’s part time? Office hours?” He stroked her hair.
“Just forget about it. I’ll tell Joe no.”
“Do you really love me?” he whispered against her temple.
“Yes, I really love you.” Her chest burned with it. She dug her fingers into his back. All she could smell was laundry softener. In the basement, the dryer buzzed.
“If you want to work for Joe, it’s okay with me.”
“Really?” Her knees buckled.
“You’ll be really good at it.”
“How do you know?”
He gave a strained chuckle. “Because you’re good at everything.”
“I’d give it up for you.”
“I know. That’s why I want you to take it.”
Candy stood up on her toes to kiss him. His hands pressed into the small of her back. Her dad wouldn’t be home until late, maybe not until after they left for the show. Tyler was hard against her belly. The laundry in the dryer was going to be all wrinkled. Maybe there’d be time to wash it again after. She pulled back a step, stripping off her muddy socks, and taking his hand.
“What?”
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
She tugged him toward the hall.
“Candy, where are you taking me?”
He looked genuinely confused, but he went with her.
The hall didn’t look any different. Narrow, dim, white walls. Her school pictures hung along one side from kindergarten through fifth grade. Mom took off before the sixth grade photos were sent home. It was all so normal and so new.
“Candy?” He pulled his hand out of hers at the doorway.
“Come on, what are you afraid of?”
“That you’re gonna say no at the last minute.”
Candy reached into her bedside table and fished out the condoms she’d stolen from her dad’s medicine cabinet. “Does it look like I’m going to change my mind?”
* * * *
Tyler parked his car in the driveway. He needed to shower before he went to get Candy at work. If working construction in June sucked, he could only dread August. And January. It was enough to make him really consider college. When Candy came to his graduation party, his mom had been all over her plan to go to college after she graduated next year. Joe had arranged it so next year, she got out of school at lunch to work at his office from then to five, and she got college credit for it because Joe knew people at the university. Over the summer, she was taking some college classes to get a head start. Joe arranged that too.
Fucking Joe walked on water. She tried not to talk about him all the time, but couldn’t help herself. Every time his name came up, Tyler wanted to puke. Fucking Joe set the band up with three good gigs at the mall, talked to Mr. Dale about getting them into a recording studio for a demo, and knew the guy who owned the big club by the university that paid half of door for the show, which could be as much as five hundred bucks. Fucking Joe wrecked the afternoons for him without even being around. Usually Tyler picked Candy up at work and took her back to her house so they could have dinner and then sex. Then they’d go to rehearsal and he’d drop her off afterward before heading home. She called it “playing house.”
When Tyler walked through the door, his father snarled from his broken down recliner, “What are you doing home?”
A better question was, What are you doing home? His dad should have been on the road until six. “I just got off work.”
“Little fucking freeloader.” His dad took a swig from the beer bottle in his hand.
Tyler thought about pointing out that he’d started paying rent as soon as he graduated, but decided against it. From where he stood by the door, he could see Tiff cringing at the top of the stairs. How long had Dad been home and how long had he been drinking? He shifted so that Tiff had a clear path behind him to the front door.
“Nothing to say for yourself?”
“It wouldn’t do any good.”
“You little shit.” His father threw down his beer bottle and heaved himself to his feet. “I want you out of this house.”
Tyler clenched his teeth to keep from saying anything. Tiff ran down the stairs and out the door.
“Look what you’ve done to our family,” his father roared. “This is all your fault.”
“Where’s Mom?” He seemed to remember his mother saying something about a class she was taking this week, but at the time he’d been too busy envying her sitting in an air-conditioned classroom while he humped up and down a ladder all day to pay attention to specifics.
“Not here to protect you.” His father took a weaving step toward him.
Tyler did not want to get into a fistfight with his drunken father tonight. Or ever. Tiff was out of the house, so she was safe enough. He didn’t know where his mother was to get a warning to her. He lunged out the door, running for his car. Fumbling for the keys, he jumped in, started the car and backed out of the driveway.
“Run, you little shit. And don’t stop!” His father stood on the front porch shaking his fist as long as Tyler could see him.
The office Candy worked in was right downtown. He had to circle the block a couple of times to get a parking space. The third time around Candy was standing on the sidewalk watching down the street for him. When she saw his car, her face lit up. She always looked freakishly hot in the conservative skirts and blouses she wore to work with her hair pulled straight back in a barrette. Climbing in the car, she kissed him. “Hi honey, how was your day? No time to shower?”
“The day was fine, but my dad went nuts when I got home so I didn’t stick around to shower.”
“No problem, you can shower while I’m getting dinner ready.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I love you. Joe is letting me work on this huge deal. His company is trying to get the California Avocado Growers Association account. He’s flying to LA next month to present it. He said he knows somebody who can set him up to meet somebody at Elektra Records. If you have your demo done by then, he could deliver it by hand. I called Mr. Dale today and told him, so tonight is probably going to be a band meeting.”
Great. Perfect end to a perfectly shitty day. Fucking Joe.
* * * *
“You’re what?” Jason shouted.
Tyler rubbed his temples. All through dinner, Candy kept talking about that fucking avocado thing and it gave him a headache. Jeff quitting the band wasn’t helping.
“Jason, would you please s
top yelling?” Mr. Dale rubbed his hands though his short hair.
“Why?” Jason snapped at Mr. Dale before turning on Jeff again. “You stupid, selfish son of a bitch.”
“Selfish? I’m selfish?” Jeff jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. “Look, you can pin your whole future on this pipe dream, but I’m not. My mom and dad are willing to pay for school. I’m being a nice guy telling you this far in advance.”
“Where are we supposed to find another bass player? Nobody wants to play fucking bass.” Jason stomped to the window.
“Look, you’ve got two months before I go. You can find somebody in that time. You won’t have to miss any gigs.” Jeff shoved his hands in his pockets. “Mr. Dale, you understand, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, son.” Mr. Dale steepled his fingers, staring at the tips as if the answers were there. “This is going to delay our demo plans.”
“Hey, if you make it big, I can work for you. Do your books?”
Jason banged his head against the wall.
“Boy! Stop that before you dent my wall. Now, who do you know who plays bass and isn’t a stoner?”
How late was he going to have to stay out tonight? If his dad was really on a tear, he might stay up. Mom had to come home sometime, but what if they got into it and the fight ran late? He might walk into an even worse situation. Unless he parked down the block and climbed in through the window. That might work. He’d still need to hang out as late as possible with Candy.
But what if Dad got violent with Mom? His father had never done anything like that before, but he’d never been as threatening as he was this afternoon either. Thrown beer bottles were common enough, but today Dad really had looked as if he was coming out swinging. Maybe he should be home early to get in the way if Dad went after Mom or Tiff, though Tiff wasn’t stupid. She’d been smart enough to hide upstairs until he’d walked in to create a diversion. She wouldn’t go home until she knew it was safe. Her best friend lived three blocks over. Tiff would stay there.
Why was Dad even home so early? He never got home until after Tyler and judging by the number of beer bottles on the table, he’d been at it for a while. Had he lost his job? The guys his dad worked for all seemed to like him and he did his job well. Unless there were cutbacks. If Dad lost his job, what would happen to the house? How would they eat? Mom had a good job, but she didn’t earn as much as Dad. Tyler couldn’t make up the shortfall. His construction job paid pretty well, but not the kind of money his dad brought down driving truck. What was going to happen to Mom and Tiff?
“Tyler. Tyler!”
Mr. Dale was glaring at him. Everybody else was too, even Jason, making him wonder how long they’d been trying to get his attention. “What?”
“I asked if you knew anybody.”
“I know a couple of guitar players, but nobody who’s going to want to play bass. Marc Wells is…”
“Marc Wells?” Jason wandered closer to the couch looking as if he’d just been in a near miss with a truck. “You know Marc Wells?”
“I tried out for Soul Torture.” Tyler shrugged. At the time he’d been too devastated by not getting into that band to think about anything else. A month later, he’d met Candy and joined this band. “He said I had great range, but I was only seventeen and couldn’t get into the places they played. He gave me his number.”
Bear shook his head. “He’s not going to quit Soul Torture. They’re headlining Rockin’ On the River this year.”
“He wasn’t happy last time I talked to him. He said the other guys in his band weren’t serious about music anymore.”
“Wow, he’s got a longer waiting list for students than you do, Jason.” Candy’s eyes grew round. “He gives clinics up at Guitar Land.”
“When was the last time you talked to him?” Mr. Dale asked.
Tyler shrugged. “Three weeks ago at the Agora? He came to see us play.”
“Marc Wells came to see us play, and you didn’t tell us?” Jeff demanded.
“Like you care,” Bear grumbled. “You quit.”
“So? That doesn’t mean I don’t think the band is good.”
Tyler scratched the back of his head. At the time he’d been wondering if it would be a good idea to ask Marc to get him a wine cooler for Candy but decided against it. Mr. Dale had a thing about them drinking and he hadn’t wanted to get kicked out of the band over it. “I guess it wasn’t that important at the time.”
“Not important. Jesus.” Jason rubbed his face with both hands.
Mr. Dale pointed at Jason. “Watch your language.”
“What did Marc say about us? Did he think we were good?” Bear asked.
Tyler frowned. Marc’s exact words had been: “at least you have one good guitar player. Most of the pieces are there.”
“He thought we were good.”
Brian put up both hands. “I would totally switch to bass if we could get Marc Wells.”
“No. Why should you have to?” Jason demanded. “It’s not fair. It’s our band.”
“Yeah, it’s our band.” Brian made a swirling gesture with his finger to take in everyone in the room. “Marc Wells is a way better guitar player than I’ll ever be and a way better addition to the band than any bass player we’re going to find. If we can get him.”
“Why don’t you give him a call?” Mr. Dale gestured to the phone. “Ask him if he would like to audition for us.”
Candy caught Tyler’s arm. “Tell him to keep it quiet. We don’t want this to get around until it’s a done deal.”
“Good thought, Candy,” Mr. Dale said. “You must be learning a lot at your job.”
Yeah, let’s talk about Candy’s totally awesome job she’s learning so much from working for Fucking Joe. Tyler fished through his wallet until he found the phone number scrawled on a bar napkin. He dialed.
“Yeah?”
“Hi Marc, it’s Tyler Franklin from—”
“Touchstone. I remember. How’s it going, man?”
“That’s what I called to talk about. You said you were thinking about quitting your band.” Tyler glanced around the ring of expectant faces. If he could get Marc Wells for the band, maybe he’d be Candy’s hero again instead of Fucking Joe.
“What I said was I wasn’t happy with my band’s lack of direction, but that I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I might have someplace for you to go.” If the others crowded too much closer, they would suffocate him.
“Yeah?”
“Our bass player is quitting.”
“I don’t play bass. I play guitar.”
“Oh totally, I know.” Mr. Dale winced and Tyler figured he must have been sounding too much like a kid again. “I mean, I’m aware of that. We’re having a band meeting right now and Brian said he’d be willing to pick up bass if you wanted to join us playing guitar.”
“He the dark-haired one?”
“No, Brian’s blond.”
“Promising.” Something clicked at Marc’s end of the line, as if he was playing with a lighter or a pen. “I don’t know. I don’t want to play with a bunch of kids.”
“We’re not kids. We’re all nineteen now. And we’ve got a manager and a publicist.”
“I know.” Marc took a deep breath. “I’d have to play with you and see if we work well together. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Tyler gave them a thumbs up as he gave Marc directions to the house. Candy jabbed him in the side before he hung up. “One more thing. Don’t tell anybody.”
“Shit, same goes for you. I don’t want this getting back to Soul Torture either. What’s the address?”
Tyler rattled off Mr. Dale’s address before hanging up.
“Is he coming?” Jason had been standing close enough to the phone to hear for himself, but Tyler nodded anyway. Bear and Brian high-fived one another. Candy threw her arms around him and plastered a sloppy wet one on him. At least she wasn’t talkin
g about avocados anymore.
“All right you two, that’s enough.” Mr. Dale tugged Tyler’s shoulder. “Good work. Why don’t we break early tonight? Give you boys a night off.” He shooed them toward the door.
Jeff apologized all the way to the cars, but Candy was already plotting what she was going to put in the press release when Marc officially joined Touchstone.
“Maybe I should call Tracy at Stage and Scene and give her a heads-up tomorrow,” Candy said as he walked her to the door. He always parked on the street in case her dad came home before he left, but that had never happened before so he wasn’t sure why he did it.
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know.”
“I don’t, but Tracy loves to be on the inside and she might be able to slide it into the Rumor Has It column without naming names so when it does come out we’ll already be generating buzz.”
“I guess.”
Candy unlocked the door. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Sure. It’s just been a weird day.”
She stroked his cheek. “I know, but this is going to be for the best in the end, I’m sure of it.” Candy wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her body, so lean and strong, felt so good on his. She was so smart and gorgeous. What was she doing with a loser like him in the first place? His own family didn’t want him. “You want to come in and watch a movie or something?” she murmured against his lips.
Or something was promising. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go anyway. With luck, Dad would fall asleep and he’d be able to climb up the garage drainpipe to his room. But in this mood, Dad wouldn’t fall asleep until after midnight and then he might sleep on Tyler’s bed trying to catch him climbing in the window. Candy’s dad might not even come home tonight. Sometimes he didn’t. Then Tyler could sleep on her couch. He wasn’t optimistic enough to think he was going to get into her bedroom. “Or something?”
She smiled and pulled him through the door.
Chapter 4
She’d put on a movie anyway, in case her dad came home, and they necked all the way through it the first time. After it rewound they started to watch, but she fell asleep in his arms. Tyler held her, her sleeping weight like an anchor keeping him from getting sucked into a jet turbine. If only he never had to go home and could stay here with her forever. He’d never wanted to be with a girl the way he wanted to be with Candy. His eyes drooped closed despite his best efforts to keep watch for her dad. This was good.
Keep Coming Back to Love Page 5
