The Music of Love

by Sandine Tomas

  Julian looked at Len. Not a complete moron, then. Of course, leaving your girl for most of the year traipsing around the country is not really a way to prove one’s worth. Julian downed his shot and chased it with a swig of beer. Fuck. What did it say that he wasn’t much smarter than the jackass kid? But it was different, right? Zachary wanted this for him. Zachary understood. It wasn’t about choosing.

  “So when’re you getting married?” Gabe asked Lenard.

  “Dunno. Brenda says she’ll know when she’s ready. I wouldn’t mind if we just went to the courthouse an’ did it. Or hell, if she wants a big shebang, we can do that. I just wish she’d make up her mind….” Lenard trailed off mournfully.

  JULIAN STOOD outside the motel room door so he wouldn’t disturb Gabe and tried calling Zachary before crawling into bed. Admittedly, he was a bit beyond sober, and it didn’t occur to him that Zachary would be asleep—he was up, so in his mind Zachary was too.

  “H’lo?”

  “Zach! Hey. About time. Where’ve you been, man? Been wanting to talk to you for hours.”

  He heard a groggy groan. “I called you back hours ago. ’S really late now.”

  Julian glanced at his wristwatch. Huh. But what had Zachary said? That couldn’t be right. He pulled his phone from his ear and sure enough he had a voicemail notification. Shit. Musta missed it.

  “Sorry. Missed the call.”

  “You okay?”

  Julian rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m great. We had a super performance. We played this great old concert hall in Indiana called The Vic—”

  “Jules. I want to hear all about it. But not tonight. Gotta be in court by nine tomorrow, and we have a ton of prep to do first.”

  “Yeah. It’s just the audience was really open to us, you know, and I sang ‘One Name’—”

  Zachary yawned. “I’m sure it was great. I really have to go back to sleep now, though. ’Night, Jules. Love you.”

  And the phone went silent. The next show itself was routine. But afterward, Julian seriously thought he needed to start a journal and publish it as educational reading for naïve idiots who wanted to be musicians when they grew up. Because when they started to load the trailer, they realized Lenard had vanished.

  Chapter 10

  “SHIT.”

  “You could say that again.”

  “Shit.” Nick rolled his eyes at Gabe and then turned to Julian. “What you say to him?”

  “What? Me? Nothing. I swear.” Of course, they thought it was Julian’s fault. After all he made the last drummer bail. Maybe it was his fault? It must be. Usually was. Oh God. He was ruining his friends’ lives.

  Gabe rubbed anxiously at his chin. “Stop it. Wasn’t your fault.”

  Just then Gabe’s phone rang.

  “Yeah?”

  Both Nick and Julian leaned in to listen when Gabe mouthed Lenard.

  The one-sided conversation consisted mostly of Gabe snarling, pursing his lips, and finally saying, “Whatever, dude. You do what you gotta do,” before hanging up.

  “Well at last he’s happy as a dead pig in the sunshine.”

  “He’s not coming back.” Julian knew that wasn’t a question.

  Gabe shook his head. “Fuck. Fuckityfuckfuckfuck.” He nearly pounded his booted foot into the ground. “We gotta be in Sumter, North Carolina, in thirteen hours!”

  Nick asked, “What he say?”

  “He’s going home to his girl. He figured it out.” Julian looked at Gabe questioningly. Gabe rolled his eyes. “He figured out why Brenda wasn’t marrying him.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “Because he wasn’t acting like someone who wanted to share his life with her. Any moron could have told the kid that. But now? Now he has to fucking find a brain?”

  Julian felt like the floor was falling away. Isn’t that exactly what Julian was doing? God. He couldn’t lose Zachary. But his music. His breathing sped up just as Gabe’s arm came around him.

  “Breathe.”

  “Bu-but Gabe, you said—”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Yes it is! It’s exactly the same….”

  Nick spoke softly. “No, it’s not. Gabe’s right. You’ve only been gone a week. And Zach understands. I know he does. He wants you to have this.”

  Julian wanted to believe this more than he’d ever wanted anything. Because the truth was that he wasn’t ready to go home, wasn’t ready to give this up.

  “I know he does. I do. But. When will I know? When I have my Len epiphany?”

  Gabe drew him closer. “You’ll know, cowboy. It’ll be there. Like your music. One minute it’s nothing. Next it’s fucking singing to you.”

  Julian calmed as he gently pulled back from Gabe and tossed a thankful glance at Nick. He truly had the best friends in the universe, and he was proud to be invited to tour with them. Of course, they still had no drummer.

  “Excuse me?”

  All three of them turned to look down at a petite redhead addressing them.

  “Yes?” Gabe’s frustration spilled over at her.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re a band that needs a drummer in a hurry. I’m a drummer that needs a band. Maybe we can help each other out. I’m Randy Goodwin.” She held out her hand to Gabe.

  “You’re a drummer?” She barely came up to Gabe’s shoulder.

  “I could explain my qualifications, but I think this would go faster if I just demonstrated for you.” She hopped up on the stage where Lenard’s drum kit was still sitting, made an adjustment to the height of the high hat and the seat, and went—apeshit was the only way to describe it.

  When she finished, Julian was not the only one whose mouth gaped.

  “Holy fuck!” Gabe was at a total loss for words.

  Finally, Nick managed, “Where’d you learn to play?”

  She was smirking, clearly conscious of the effectiveness of her audition. “Started with my dad. Been playing since I was four. Graduated Berklee College of Music in Boston and been touring with different groups for the last three years. Only this last band… well, let’s just say it imploded. We were supposed to play here tonight. In fact, you guys replaced us. I watched your show. You’re pretty tight. And I can totally do what your drummer did, better. And I’m stuck here with a drum kit and no band.”

  Gabe looked at Nick, then Julian for their reactions.

  Then Randy clinched the deal. “What have you got to lose? I’ll play your next gig, and if you aren’t happy then, you can leave me there. No strings.”

  “Where’s your stuff?”

  “They let me keep it in a storeroom. We can put your guy’s stuff in there and load mine.”

  “Welcome to The Last Cowboys, Randy.”

  GABE DROVE like a madman, and they made it to Sumter with an hour for Randy to rehearse with them. After sound check and a quick meal, it was time to cross their fingers and just go. Julian looked over at Randy as Gabe gave her the tempo for the first song, and she was grinning… somewhat maniacally, Julian thought.

  They kicked ass.

  Randy’s rhythm was rock solid. Gabe had put the set list together with the songs that the Cowboys were most comfortable with, but at the break, he told Randy he was going to give her a drum solo to open the second half.

  The crowd hollered so long that Nick just played the bass riff for nearly five minutes when Randy finished until they could resume the song. Gabe gave her solos in two other pieces, including the second encore, and there were high-fives all around backstage before they went out to sell CDs.

  There was a crowd six deep around their table, and it seemed every guy wanted to hit on Randy. Randy laughed off the outrageous pickup lines casually, and she managed to sell a fair number of CDs as she did it. When it was obvious that Gabe and Nick weren’t needed, they left to start packing the trailer. Finally, there were just a couple of oglers left. Naturally, the drunkest ones. Also the crudest. After brushing them off repeatedly, Randy just ignored them and
asked Julian if there was any particular order to packing the merch tubs.

  Then one of the drunks, who was probably close to Zachary’s six four but had a substantial beer gut hanging over his belt, came up behind Randy and pinched her ass.

  “Hey!” Before Julian could react, Randy had turned around stiff-armed and palm extended, and Julian wasn’t exactly sure what happened, but the jerk was doubled over and backing away while cussing a blue streak.

  “Anyone else want to bother me?”

  Unsurprisingly, the stragglers vanished.

  “What’d you do to him?”

  “I’m a black belt in tae kwon do. Something I learned long before going out on the road.” Randy looked grim for another moment, then flashed her teeth again. “Comes in handy every now and again.” She smirked. “So if anybody bothers you, just let me know.”

  WHEN ZACHARY called Saturday afternoon, Gabe had just pulled the van into a Waffle House parking lot. Julian mouthed for the others to go ahead, and he’d be in shortly.

  He’d just started to tell Zachary about the new drummer’s amazing skills, when Zachary interrupted with, “Oh man, I almost forgot—Brian finally hired someone!”

  This derailed Julian about Randy. “Yeah? Who? What’s he… she? like?”

  “Sven.”

  Julian smiled. “What kind of name is Sven?”

  He heard Zachary’s answering laugh. “What kind of name is Julian?”

  “Okay. I guess. Well, tell me more.”

  “He seems really good. Extremely organized but not… um… he’s cool.”

  Julian squirmed. “Not anal, like me?”

  “I didn’t say—”

  No. But Julian heard it anyway. He fought down the slight irritation. “Will be good for everyone to keep things straight. It’ll let you keep the crazy hours under control so you get to keep up with your classes.”

  Zachary jumped at that. “Yes. Exactly. That’s what I meant, of course.” There was a lingering moment of awkward silence. God, it was so strange. Zachary continued, “So, new drummer who fell from the sky, Randy, right?”

  “Yeah. Fantastic. Really talented musician. Takes no shit. Will be a good fit. I can tell.”

  “Anyone who can make Gabe hire ’em on the spot must be something.”

  “Yeah. Zach, they’re sorta waiting on me for lunch. Talk to you later?”

  “Okay, bye.”

  All through lunch Julian obsessed on Sven, much to Gabe’s annoyance.

  “What do you imagine someone like Sven looks like?”

  Randy answered first. “Hmm. Probably like a Viking. I’d picture six foot five, silver-blond hair. Piercing blue eyes. Tattoos. Very well built.”

  Julian’s breathing accelerated.

  “C’mon, Jules. Don’t listen to her. Betcha he’s uglier than a toad in a Speedo.”

  Nick chirped in, “Rotund.”

  All three said, “What?” at once.

  “You asked what I imagined a Sven would look like an’ that’s what came to mind—rotund.”

  That broke Julian’s tension as the band dissolved into uncontrolled cackling that made the other patrons stare at them.

  JULIAN ENDED up being roomies with Randy—put the only girl with the gay guy, naturally. But this was okay, because Julian really liked Randy. He was surprised to learn Randy was married.

  “How do you—I mean, your husband is okay with this?”

  “You mean my touring?”

  Julian leaned back against the creaky headboard and looked toward the petite redhead. “Yeah.” He didn’t think he was handling this long-distance relationship thing well at all.

  When they finally connected on the phone, Zachary didn’t talk about missing Julian. He had work and school and Marc and his other friends. Julian would listen, half-conscious, and wonder what color Zachary’s eyes were right then. He’d get so spellbound by the sound of Zachary’s voice that Julian would forget to respond. Then Zachary would suddenly stop talking about something and say, “Jules?” until Julian returned from the moon.

  “Julian?” Randy startled him.

  “Sorry.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m used to it. I was just saying that we—L.J. and I—found our equilibrium after a while. Was tough at first, I won’t fool you. But this is my life. I have to perform. I have to be out there. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be me, you know? Then L.J. wouldn’t have his wife. And he wouldn’t want that.”

  Julian thought that over. Music was his life. Had pretty much been that way since he was eleven, and Gabe moved in down the block bringing his music and mesmerizing personality into Julian’s life. Had placed a beat-up guitar in his hands in a dank garage a million years ago and taught him some simple chords. “I was a shy, anxious little dork. But Gabe didn’t care.”

  She turned onto her stomach on her bed and peered at him sideways from behind a waterfall of fiery hair. “You and Gabe are close, eh?”

  Julian caught her meaning. “Yes, but not like that. I mean, I love him. Always will. But he’s straight. And, truthfully, even if he weren’t, I don’t feel that for him. Haven’t for a long time.”

  Her brows rose in a perfect arch. “But once you did?”

  He sighed. “When I was thirteen, I realized that what he was describing reacting to with girls… well, I kinda felt about him.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  Julian hadn’t. But now he realized that Gabe had known. He had to. He just never made Julian feel bad about it. Gabe had just dealt with Julian’s babbling, terrified confession about his sexual orientation in inimitable Gabe style. Julie, I don’t care where you scratch your mad place and get glad.

  Randy giggled at the retelling. “He’s a good guy. I like him. Nick too.”

  “They’re the best.”

  “You’re good with them. It’s a blast performing with you.”

  “I know. I’ve always loved their band.”

  “And writing songs?”

  Julian blinked. “What about it?” He hadn’t written one song since they started touring. There had been glimpses. Moments when the air shimmered and the melody danced. But. There was never enough time to capture it. Something nagged, but before he could think it through, Randy was talking again.

  “You must enjoy songwriting too? You’re very good.”

  “Oh. I love writing songs. It’s like I have to. Hard to explain. But if they don’t come out, then it’s like. I get lost. Like it all goes gray. The colors disappear.”

  She was staring at him now, and Julian knew he sounded like some New Age nutjob. But she just nodded and said good night.

  The next time Julian spoke to Zachary, Julian waxed on about Randy, fantastic drummer and excellent roommate.

  “So you share a room with Randy all the time now?” Zachary asked, an odd edge to his voice.

  “Yeah, it made sense. Randy’s terrific. Doesn’t mind me. Which, you know, I can be hard to live with. Easy to talk to. I don’t remember sharing so easily with anyone like that before.” It took a moment for Julian to realize what he’d said. “I mean not counting you. Of course.”

  Zachary let out a curt, “Right.” Then he said he had to go. Julian thought Zachary sounded almost angry. But that didn’t make much sense. It’s not like Zachary didn’t share practically everything with his friend Margaret, and Julian never begrudged him that. So whatever the coldness was about couldn’t have been about that.

  Not that their conversations left him feeling good these days. But this was one of the worst.

  He was dressed and back in the van before he realized that they hadn’t even parted with a perfunctory “love you” this time.

  IT WAS nine weeks into the tour, and The Last Cowboys were playing in Galax, Virginia, on a Wednesday night. The “day” had started shitty when Bessie got a flat tire at 3:00 a.m. in the middle of nowhere. Getting to the spare meant unhitching and moving the trailer out of the way. Everyone was snapping with exhaustion, even Randy. The lug nuts on th
e wheel were ancient, and it took almost an hour to get them unstuck.

  Julian inhaled another greasy burger and half an order of fries—he shared with Randy—and made a mental note for the fifteenth time to pick up some heartburn remedy at the next opportunity.

  He was almost dozing on the sagging couch in the “green room”—actually a three-walled partitioned space with, besides the couch, two equally decrepit chairs, a wall mirror, and a dorm-room fridge full of Jolt, water, and beer. The particle-wall divider was covered with graffiti, liberally laced with swear words. None of them wanted to go on stage that night.

  Gabe walked back from a quick check of the stage. “Made a few revisions on the set list,” he warned. “Marked ’em on the sheet by your mics. Let’s go, cowboys. We got a crowd to entertain.”

  Julian snagged a water from the fridge and headed to his spot. This was literally one of those bars where the stage was a whopping foot higher than the room floor and the dozen tables were at the dimly lit back of the space.

  Gabe slipped into his performer persona. “Howdy! Y’all here for a good time tonight?”

  The crowd responded with some mild ye-haws and a whoop or two. Would be one of those nights. Julian clutched his guitar while scanning the crowd, pretty sure inebriation would be the word of the night.

  In all, it went better than they’d hoped. The crowd perked up some, although by the Cowboys’ second set, they were far more interested in their drinks than the music. Still, this was par for the course. They set up to try to sell some CDs, but nobody seemed much interested. Leaving Julian alone, Randy moved away to break down her drum kit. Nick and Gabe were busy packing. Julian was about to go give them a hand when a soft cough made him turn back.

  And stop breathing. Because Zachary was standing in front of him.

  “Z-Zach. How? Were you here for the whole set?”

  “No. I—I’ve been driving for hours and just got here. You guys are done?”