Keep the Beat: A Band-Com for Romance Geeks

by Kata Čuić

  He nods. “It was a compliment. I know this is foreign territory, so I’ll be sure to point out when it’s not sarcasm until you get the hang of it.”

  “Thanks.” I pile in all the sarcasm I can in my tone. “Anyway, I hate working out. Abs are built in the kitchen, so I just watch what I eat. If you ever see me running, you should probably run, too, because it means something is chasing me.”

  “Nah. I would probably do something reeking of toxic masculinity, like try to save you instead.”

  I laugh at that.

  “So, we’ve established you don’t like running. Maybe you just haven’t found an activity you like enough to stick with.”

  “Like weight lifting?” I smirk. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough. Even from the little bit I did at camp, it seems like it would be more boring than running. How did you even get into that? You obviously know a lot about it.”

  “Alex,” he confesses with a glaring side-eye that dares me to make fun of him. “When I was little, I wanted to be just like him. I followed him around everywhere and probably drove him crazy, but he never complained. Instead, he taught me everything he knew.”

  “Except how to be a man-whore, apparently.”

  Jim shrugs. “I outgrew the idea of him. To people outside our family, it seemed like he lived a charmed life. He was one of the best players on the team, drove a nice car, wore the most expensive sneakers, and could get any date he wanted. Everyone wanted to be him because they never saw the real him. Even now, living in a mansion in Florida as a millionaire who makes his money playing football sounds like every guy’s dream, but he’s constantly getting injured. He spends most of the off-season getting weird state-of-the-art treatments to help him recover faster, and he knows his career is going to be over by the time I’m hitting my prime. He loves football—don’t get me wrong. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t, but there are definite drawbacks.”

  Jim doesn’t hate his brother at all. He just hates the expectations that go along with living in his shadow.

  “You’re actually really close to him, aren’t you?”

  He nods. “We’re brothers. We love each other.”

  “And what about your younger brother, Davey?”

  He smirks. “You know my younger brother’s name, too? Wow. You were thorough with your online stalking. He’s not as easy to find as Alex.”

  “Why is that? Did he want to distance himself from Alex’s celebrity, too?”

  “No.” Jim smiles again, but this one is tinged with sadness. “Davey’s autistic. Not the high-functioning kind you see on all kinds of TV shows now. He didn’t graduate high school, didn’t go to college. He lives at home with our parents, and they love him, would never put him in a group home, but they worry about what will happen to him when they die.”

  “You or Alex wouldn’t take him in?”

  “Yes, we would.” He carefully studies me. “I guess that’s something you should know in advance.”

  I’m not sure if I should be insulted by his cautious tone. “Do you expect me to run away, screaming, at the mere idea?”

  “I’m just giving you full disclosure.”

  “For something that won’t happen for many years.”

  He continues to study me. “You say that like you don’t expect this to last that long.”

  “You say that like you expect it to last forever,” I counter.

  Maybe I expected that, too. The first time.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  No one says anything. We’ve been staring at each other for what feels like hours. The band room is off-limits for all of us while the votes are coming in and being tallied. Dr. Kimball won’t call us tonight with the results. We’ll find out together when we report at six a.m. for a noon kickoff. The announcement will be given to the whole band. Not even the section leaders are getting advance notice.

  We know because Jake and I already tried to get Shannon to give us updates. She’s not even allowed near the ballots. She’s only there to direct the voter traffic.

  Nate finally launches himself off the couch, groaning. “This is driving me crazy. We need to do something. A distraction. It’s out of our hands now anyway.”

  “I’m not playing any drinking games tonight,” I insist. “I’m going to bed early. No matter what, tomorrow is game day.”

  We all check our phones. It’s only six.

  “What about a sectional dinner?” Tim suggests. “We’re the drum major section.”

  “So, what?” Jake scoffs. “We can continue to stare each other down but with food in front of us? I’m not even sure I could eat.” He rises from the couch, too. “Fuck it. I’m having a beer.”

  “Your ass had better be stone-cold sober by tomorrow morning!” Jim calls after him as he retreats into the kitchen.

  “Oh, I know!” Tim actually snaps his fingers. “A porno party!”

  “A what now?” I am not sitting in this living room with four other guys while they whip their dicks out and watch porn.

  “It’s not a bad idea …” Nate scratches the back of his neck, looking as uncomfortable as I feel. He cuts his gaze to me. “Soph?”

  “Oh, shit,” Jim mumbles before facing me on the couch. “I forgot to tell you about this. Once a month, ITK gets together for a porno party. You’re gonna have to get used to them anyway.”

  “What kind of sick, twisted fraternity is this?” Maybe I can get out of it since I’m only an honorary brother—whatever that means.

  “It’s not a group orgy.” Nate rolls his eyes. “We just watch porn together.”

  “Bad porn,” Jim emphasizes. “Like, the ’70s shag-rug kind. Mostly, we make fun of it. It’s not as sexual as you’re imagining.”

  “Untrue,” Tim pipes up. “I’ve learned some very important things from porno parties.”

  I’m scared to ask. “Like what?”

  “Like what a clit is and where to find it.” Nate snickers.

  Oh, no. I’m the only woman here. They’re not expecting me to give them a crash course on female physiology, are they? They’re all college seniors, for God’s sake! If they don’t know certain things by now, I’m not sure they can be taught.

  Jim shakes his head. “I know how it sounds, but it’s another bonding thing. Some people … exchange sex stories.”

  “Uh, nope. I’m out. I’m not exchanging sex stories with any of you.”

  “Oh, pipe down. We don’t want to hear yours either.”

  Jim shoots Tim a complicated, expressive mix of both gratitude and annoyance before returning his attention to me. “It makes people feel better to know they’re not the only ones who have experienced an accident, or bad sex, or just … the wrong partner.”

  I know he’s referencing our previous partners, but … “An accident?”

  “Oh, there can be accidents,” Nate assures.

  Tim starts laughing. “There was this trombone player our freshman year. He was a senior at the time, and holy shit! What was his name? Zack?”

  Jake reenters the living room with a stack of shot glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and several beers. “No, I know exactly what story you’re thinking of. It was Mark, and he played tuba.”

  “Whatever, whatever.” Tim waves his hands around like he’s going to lose it if he doesn’t spill soon. “Anyway, so we’re at our first porno party, and there’s some chick bouncing away on the screen. And Zack—”

  “Mark,” Jake interrupts.

  “Fine. Mark. Mark starts just absolutely cringing. In a way everyone notices. Now, we’re all freshman, right? So, we’re not saying shit. Another senior finally asks him about it, and he launches into this tirade about how porn is so irresponsible because it makes men want things they shouldn’t have.”

  Nate picks up the story because Tim is laughing so hard that he can barely speak. “So, now, we’re all thinking we pledged some hard-core Christian frat, and the porn playing on the TV is just a test, right? To see how we’ll react. Shannon, meanwhile, is
losing her shit, laughing. Because Mark is only saying how bad it is for men, so Shan thinks she’s safe, and the rest of us are about to have our asses handed to us.”

  The front door opens, and the woman of the moment walks in. “Oh my God. Are you telling her the story about how Zack broke his penis?”

  All four of the guys yelp.

  “Are you kidding me, Shan? We hadn’t gotten to the good part yet!”

  “Spoiler alert!”

  “Aww, why would you do that?”

  “I knew his name was Zack!”

  Her eyes widen as she sits by Jake. They exchange a quick kiss. It’s so cute. “I didn’t know you hadn’t gotten to that part yet! Why are you even telling her about that? Did one of you break your dicks while I was gone?” She gasps and turns to me. “Oh my God. Did you finally snap? Did you break Jimbo’s dick? Was it accidental or on purpose?”

  “We’re having a porno party to distract ourselves,” Jake explains.

  The other residents trickling in the door are on board with this idea.

  “Sweet! I’ll make popcorn!”

  “I vote for Fast Pussies at Ridgemont High!”

  “Wait until I change; I’ve had this bra on about four hours too long.”

  That’s right. The only woman uncomfortable with this plan is me.

  Shannon claps her hands and bounces on the couch. “Your first porno party! How exciting!”

  And they really do think it’s exciting. The residents of the ITK house go all out. Pillows and blankets spread on the floor, snacks made and arranged on the coffee table, drinks procured, lights dimmed, and a stranger’s naked boobs on the biggest screen I’ve ever seen, complete with her high-pitched shrieking in surround sound.

  I’m never going to be able to unsee this.

  Worse, I’m going to hear it in my sleep.

  One of the juniors on the floor starts howling along. They all take turns at it.

  “Has anyone ever actually heard a sound like that during sex?” a sophomore sax player asks.

  “Shannon,” all three of the male drum majors, except Jake, say—deadpan.

  “Shut up! I am not that bad!” she squeals.

  Squeals.

  And it’s … it’s pretty close, and she’s not even having an orgasm.

  I glance up at Jimbo because I suddenly feel sorry for him, sharing a bedroom wall with her. He nods, confirming my silent question.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he promises on a whisper.

  I don’t want to know that kind of information about my best friend actually.

  In the next scene, the woman is contorted in some sort of position I don’t think I could even manage with years of strict yoga training. She’s balanced on the edge of the table while the guy kneels on the floor, eating her out. A split second after her cries pierce the air again, he stands, and she leaps onto him. And I do mean, onto him.

  All the guys wince. Loudly.

  “Do not ever do that to me,” Jake says in all seriousness to Shannon. “I don’t want a broken dick like Mark.”

  “Zack,” Tim corrects. “And shut up. The best part is coming.”

  Everyone laughs at his pun.

  The dude is bucking away, and he tilts her backward, so the camera zooms in on her unnaturally large breasts bouncing in time with his thrusts. The camera angle goes wide again.

  And then he drops her. He just drops her to the ground. Then, he comes all over her stomach.

  “Boo!” they all shout while throwing popcorn at the television.

  “I’m telling you right now, if any guy ever does that to me, I’m sending you boys to cut his dick off,” one of the female trombones insists.

  “And we’ll do it, too,” Nate promises.

  Jim wasn’t kidding. They bond over this. It’s not an orgy. Hell, I’m sitting on Jim’s lap, and I don’t feel anything particularly hard under my butt. Instead, my body shakes every time he laughs.

  I’ve missed out on so much. I had no idea.

  “No!” they yell in unison, redirecting my attention to the screen.

  The guy is smearing his cum all over her body. With his foot.

  A chant begins, “Just say no to feet. Just say no to feet.”

  I want in on this. I’m running out of time. “Isn’t that prejudiced against people with foot fetishes?”

  The room goes quiet. Everyone stares at me, sitting on Jimbo’s lap like his personal puppy. Even the position I’m in is weird enough. They can’t tell I’m joking.

  Everyone bursts into laughter at the same time. And I get absolutely covered in popcorn.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “We are proud to announce that for the first time in the one hundred eighteen years of Marching Miners history, a female drum major will lead State Band onto the field!” Dr. Kimball beams at me.

  Oh my God. I did it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The usual warm-ups echo through the tunnel long after the directors asked the bandies for silence. As a squad leader, that used to annoy me to no end. A band is only as good as its ability to follow directions.

  But today?

  Today, I relish the sound.

  Most of the time, we don’t know the important moments in our lives are happening, so we don’t stop to savor everything about them. We don’t notice the humidity in the air or the trickle of sweat running down our backs, tickling our skin. We don’t focus and make note of the background noises that usually fall below our radar because, if we’re lucky, we’re passing through time. Living in a series of moments rather than the moment.

  We might recall a familiar scent, but we can’t describe it as accurately as I can smell the freshly painted field, the hot-dog vendors wending their way through the packed stands, the pungent aroma of the start of a new season where a blank slate is ready and waiting for anyone who steps out of this tunnel to make their mark.

  When we tell others about the moment, long after it’s passed and our memories are beginning to fade, the names of those present with us might change with each retelling because we didn’t care as much about the people so much as the way they made us feel.

  They make me feel loved. Honored to know them. Proud to represent them.

  Like one of them.

  “Jesus, I’m gonna start crying,” Nate chokes out. “Bring it in.”

  Our group is small, but our emotions are epic.

  This is our last first time to run out of the hole.

  Behind us in a tunnel packed with anxious rookies awaiting their true initiation, other seniors share our sentiments. They’re not at the front of the line, but they’re with us. Because we are a family. And when we go out on this field, we are many as one.

  A group hug isn’t good enough. They take turns trying to squeeze the breath out of me, one by one.

  “Easy, Tim,” I cough. “I’ve gotta do a backbend in about fifteen minutes.”

  And I’ve got a little surprise up my sleeve for that, which I’d love to be able to actually do.

  He releases me with a grin. There’s pride in his eyes.

  Jake shakes his head, a smile playing with his mouth. “Sophia Reston. First female drum major of the Marching Miners.”

  “Hell of a time to be alive,” Nate adds. “You earned this, fair and square. Don’t ever let anyone make you think you didn’t.”

  Coming from the guy who swore I’d get the job just because I was a woman, that’s high praise.

  There’s one drum major who’s been mostly silent since the announcement. He’s leaning against the tunnel wall right next to the Miners emblem that every head drum major has touched before pregame since this stadium was built. He tips his head toward it.

  It’s time.

  The brick feels cool and damp, a stark contrast to the late summer heat. The paint is smooth beneath my fingertips. A perfect counterbalance to the rough rope winding around the mace in my other hand.

  He takes a deep breath then reaches into his jacket that he h
asn’t fastened yet. “Alex bought me these extremely overpriced sunglasses and told me to wear them on the field because that’s what a badass band nerd would do. He told me to own it and be fucking proud.” He unfolds the glasses then slides them on my face, taking care to tuck the frame beneath my tall drum major hat. “Be fucking proud, Sophie. I sure as hell am proud of you.”

  Three years ago, I never would have imagined where we’d be standing right now. Two years ago, I could not have even fathomed those words ringing in my ears, mixing with the roar of the band as the smoke machines begin to blast the entrance with a haze of white.

  I put my whistle to my lips and give the command to start the cadence. I raise my mace in the air to direct the drumline onto the field.

  When the crash of the cymbals and the snap of the snares are an echo in the tunnel, I raise my mace again.

  “We are!”

  “Miners!” the band responds.

  “We are!”

  “Miners!”

  “We are!”

  The entire band begins their run-step in time to the beat of the drums. “Miners!”

  I have to leave the band in Jim’s care while I take the field with the drumline. He already has his whistle in his hand to give commands when it’s time for them to join us.

  I love you, he mouths just before I go.

  A year ago, I might have missed it. I might have freaked out. I might have punched him.

  But not today.

  I nail the backbend on the field. Without the hat.

  And I slide the badass, expensive sunglasses higher on the bridge of my nose as I rise.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  If it wasn’t for the line out the door leading to the basement, I might think no one was home. The lights are off upstairs, even on the main floor. The windows and front door are all shut tight even though it’s still sweltering outside.

  I’m a little late because dinner with my parents ran over, but maybe I should just wait in line to go in through the basement door like everyone else. So, I do.