Nora nodded. “Yeah, Leo told me.”
Sebastian straightened up like he’d been poked in the ribs and looked at me in surprise. He dropped her hand. “You told her about mom and dad?”
I nodded.
He looked quizzically from me to Nora. “Really?” he asked me again, like I was lying.
I clenched my teeth together. “Yes.”
He trained his eyes on me then Nora, scrutinizing us, jumping from one to the other, seeming to be deep in thought. Finally, he nodded as if he’d just figured something out. He laughed a little to himself, like he knew a joke we didn’t.
He continued, “Anyway. So instead of sending me off to live with some distant cousins when they died, he gave up his band and college so he could be a full-time dad.”
“I bet he was a great one,” Nora said.
Sebastian snorted as he stood to clean up. “Don’t let him fool you, Nora. He packs a mean wallop to the head when you least expect it. I only keep him around ’cause he can cook.”
And immediately, I felt my jealousy of Sebastian ebb away. He was the only real family I had left. I loved him. Hard. And I had no right to be mad at him for flirting with Nora.
I hugged him and rubbed his head playfully with my knuckles. He was long overdue with all the lip flapping he’d been doing this morning.
“See how he is?” Sebastian said, grinning as he pulled away from me, trying to smooth down his styled hair.
The buzzer pealed from downstairs. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Door bell. Looks like it’s payback time, Nora,” I said.
Her face turned white and her fork clattered down on the table. “Shit. Parents?”
“No, it’s friends of ours, and I want you to come downstairs and meet them,” I said.
She nodded, her face still pale.
I stood there for a moment, wanting to tell her it would be okay. That I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. But I walked out the door and didn’t look back, leaving her there with Sebastian.
“Behind every beautiful thing is a world of pain.”
–Nora Blakely
AFTER LEO DISAPPEARED from sight, I sped out of the kitchen and went to the bathroom, grabbing my phone and backpack on the way. My mouth dried, thinking about who could be waiting for me. If it wasn’t family, then who could it be? What if he’d changed his mind and called the police?
Whatever was waiting for me, I could handle it. I simply needed to do the things on my list: get drunk, get high, and get laid. Get relief. End of story.
My phone buzzed. I opened it and saw Mila had texted me five times during the night and early this morning.
--What happened last night! You never texted me!
--Where are you, chica? You better be in your car! Asleep!
--Hello?? Okay, are you alive?? Don’t drive drunk, or I will be MAD!!
--Now I’m scared! Call me!
--Crappola, are you in jail! I better be your one phone call!
My stomach lurched when I saw Finn had called me several times as well, and the thought of listening to his nasally voice made me feel nauseated. I hated how weak he made me feel, even though he lived four hours away. I deleted all six voicemails he’d left with a shaking hand. He hadn’t tried to call or text me in months, and I suspected him moving back home had him trying to reach out. He’d hated living there as much as I do now, so he had to be desperate if he planned on coming back to Highland Park.
I washed my face and then redid my ponytail, easing around the yellowish bruise on the side of my face. I grabbed some toothpaste and cleaned my teeth with my finger.
Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, we’ll be in the big room past the yoga area. It’s downstairs,” Sebastian called out.
“Okay,” I mumbled.
Thinking I should get this day started the right way, I took out the flask and gulped down a big swig of vodka, coughing at the bitterness. I took another swallow, watching myself in the mirror, staring at the strange girl who’d gotten drunk last night. I didn’t know her, but I liked her a lot better than numb Nora. Yeah, this girl was real. She wouldn’t do everything Mother said. She wouldn’t break down behind closed doors, dreaming of knives, blood, and secrets. This girl could handle whatever shit came her way.
To make sure I was ready, I searched around the bathroom for a word to roll around, yet there was nothing that caught my attention except nail clippers, dental floss, and, of course, the toilet. Damn it. I closed my eyes, riffled through my cerebral dictionary and got what I needed.
“Hydraulic,” I said aloud. “A noun derived from Greek and Latin, referring to a system, such as the mechanism operated by the pressure transmitted when a liquid is forced through a small opening or tube. Such as a toilet,” I said, nodding at myself in the mirror for a job well done. I flushed it for good measure, watching the water swirl around.
There, I felt better.
Nope, not loony at all.
I walked out of the bathroom and halted. Sebastian was standing there, his head cocked as he looked at me.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
He arched his brow at me. “It sounded a lot like you were saying all this technical shit about the crapper.”
I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, I didn’t mean to make a joke, but it’s a pretty good one, huh?” he said with a chuckle.
I nodded and smiled widely, not able to resist his easy manner.
He held up a hand. “Wait a minute; you weren’t actually talking to the crapper, were you?”
“No,” I said. “I was defining a word, repeating its definition, parts of speech and etymology. The usual.”
His eyes widened. “A word?”
“Yeah, I got a thing for words. You know how some people collect sea shells? I collect words. I think about them all the time. They make me feel better when I’m jittery. I can’t get through the day without them. Well, I guess I could, but it wouldn’t be fun.” Understatement of the year.
“My mom collected porcelain figures,” he murmured, nodding like it was everyday you heard some girl admit she was neurotic.
Looking at Sebastian, I couldn’t help but see the differences in his and Leo’s appearance now. The opal-blue eyes were the same, but Sebastian’s blond hair was gelled in a buzz cut while Leo’s was longer and sexier. Enough to run my hands through and hold on tight while he pounded away.
I pushed Leo out of my head and checked out Sebastian, standing there in his skinny jeans and retro Beatles shirt. With expensive Italian loafers. This guy was so LA.
He wagged his finger at me. “I knew you’d like me. I’m hard to resist,” he grinned.
I shook my head at his arrogance.
“So, do you have a lot of words in your head?”
“How many do you think is a lot?” I said.
“My mom had like a hundred of those porcelain things, sitting around everywhere.”
“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say I repeat different words in my head about five times a day. So that’s about thirty-five new words a week.”
“Damn,” he whispered out.
“Yeah, it’s what Mother calls a serious problem.”
My phone rang, and I saw it was the black bunny.
“Hey, can you give me a few minutes?” I said, nodding at the phone. “It’s my best friend, and I need to talk to her about what happened to me last night. She tends to worry.”
“Sure, come on down when you’re done,” he said, walking away.
And so, after I’d assured Mila I hadn’t been arrested or kidnapped by two lunatics, I made my way downstairs, ready to face Leo and his brand of justice.
I heard music, and I followed it to a big room at the end of the hall. The first sound I heard when I walked in the room was the rhythm of a slow piano melody and then a smooth drum beat that echoed behind the piano’s tempo. It sounded less stylized but a lot like one of my favorite indie bands, and I was p
roven correct when Sebastian started singing the opening bars to “Transatlanticism,” a song about two lovers who’d lost each other. The intense, driven sound captured me, and I lost myself in the music, letting my head bob to the beat. It’s true I spent the last several years studying classical piano, but this was the kind of music I loved and Mother hated.
While Sebastian crooned in a sexy voice, Leo was the one who drew my eyes as he played guitar. He might not be the front man for the band, but it was obvious he had talent the way his fingers flew across his guitar, grinding out the gritty sound. And he was delicious. My eyes ate him up, taking in the low slung jeans and tank. He’d hardly even looked at me during breakfast, so when his blue eyes met mine and held, my body got heavy and warm. The same excitement I’d felt for him last night came barreling back. Sure, he was older and possibly dangerous to my heart, but I didn’t care anymore about doing the right things.
On drums was a teen Latino girl with dreads, her head bouncing up and down as she sang backup. The piano player was a young guy, maybe in his early twenties, whose body rocked back and forth in a weird motion as he played. I paused, noticing he had a 35mm camera around his neck. What kind of musician carries around a camera while he plays?
I sat down in a chair to listen, enjoying the piano once again becoming the predominate instrument at the end. As the piano guy stroked the keys, the music took me away to a place where I fooled myself into believing I was happy. After the song was over, I let out a satisfied sigh. I loved their sound.
Leo sat his guitar down and walked over to me. “Come on and meet the band,” he said, surprising me by taking my arm and leading me to the young drummer. “This is Mary Beth, but she only answers to Vixen. She may be young, but she’s one of the best drummers in the Dallas area.”
Vixen blushed prettily.
“You were great,” I told her. And stunning, I thought to myself, now that I was closer and could see her perfectly smooth caramel skin and oval face that was shiny with sweat from working the drums. She looked to be sixteen or seventeen.
“Where did you learn to play?” I asked.
“Parents taught me,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “What do you play?”
“Piano since the age of ten, and I sing in the shower, too,” I joked, feeling shy and unsure. These guys were talented, and I wasn’t anything special at all.
“Oh? Well, Teddy here’s a great piano player. I guess that’s why Leo said we needed you,” she said, smirking at me. I wrinkled my brow. What did she mean?
“And this is Teddy,” Leo said, interrupting my confusion at Vixen’s statement and guiding me to stand next to the baby grand where the young man sat. He had curly brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed, and his plaid shirt was buttoned up wrong. My fingers itched to fix him.
“He doesn’t read music, but plays by ear. But what’s cool is once he hears a song, he can play it back,” Leo said looking at Teddy. I detected pride in his voice.
“You’re a fortunate person,” I said to Teddy. “And great song choice. Death Cab for Cutie is a favorite band of mine.”
Teddy rocked back and forth on his seat, his head tilted awkwardly.
I glanced back at Leo, uncertain how to take Teddy’s unusual demeanor. Maybe he was super bashful?
“Say thank you to Nora,” Leo told Teddy matter-of-factly, like he’d said those words before. “She’s the one who’s going to teach you new songs.”
I managed to sputter out, “P-Pfftttt, yeah.” What did he mean?
“Thank you, Nora,” Teddy piped up loudly in a sing-song voice, his eyes darting around the room but never connecting with mine. “Playing piano is fun. Bob Seger’s song ‘Old Time Rock and Roll’ is the best. It’s in the movie Risky Business with Tom Cruise where he slides on the floor in his underwear. What’s your favorite song, Nora?”
“I . . . I’ve been listening to Alicia Keyes’ song, ‘Girl on Fire’ lately. It’s not her latest release, but I like it,” I said tentatively, not quite sure what was wrong with Teddy. Something was definitely off.
Leo grinned at Teddy and squeezed his shoulder. “He likes to talk about music.”
Teddy said, “Nora, Nora! I love music. Do you?”
I nodded, my eyes going from Teddy to Leo, trying to get the connection because I sensed a kinship between them.
As if he couldn’t sit still, Teddy rubbed his hands up and down on his jeans, still not meeting my eyes. “That song you said, ‘Girl on Fire.’ Show me how to play it? Please?” he asked.
Whatever strangeness was up with Teddy, I liked him. I couldn’t put my finger on it or define it right then, but sometimes you just know when you’ve met a friend. Something about him reminded me of myself. Maybe it was the unsure set of his thin shoulders as he waited for me to answer his question. Maybe it was the fact that I was a little strange, too.
“Yeah, sure thing. I’d love to. We’ll have to buy the sheet music but that’s not a big deal.” I nodded at his camera. “What’s with the camera around your neck?”
Teddy looked up and focused his eyes at my forehead. “Can’t breathe without my camera.”
Ah. There it was. “I know exactly what you mean,” I said.
Leo led me away from the band and over to a long couch where no one could hear us. “Teddy’s autistic,” he said. “And a musical savant.”
“Oh. Where did you find him?” I said, sneaking a look at Teddy, wondering what it was like for him to have a label. He was different, like me. I didn’t have autism, but I definitely wasn’t normal.
“We checked with local music stores and found Vixen. But Teddy? Kinda stumbled across him at a piano bar downtown that his sister owns.” He looked back at Teddy with a grin. “The night I saw him play he blew me away, playing old songs, new songs, pretty much anything the crowd wanted. He never used one piece of sheet music. So, I ended up staying until the bar closed and talked to him and his sister. Invited him to be part of our group.”
“Doesn’t he slow you down with his disability?”
Leo’s entire face tightened. “He’s considered high functioning and smarter than you think. He’s a person, just like you or me. He’s not an idiot,” he retorted.
“Of course not, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just not every day you see an autistic guy in a band. You obviously care about him, and I can see why. He’s like a child,” I said quickly, wanting him to know that I wasn’t judging Teddy. “I’m just surprised that you chose him for your band. I’m sure he’s worth all the extra work.”
“He is. Not everyone’s perfect, you know,” he said, giving me as assessing look, like maybe he knew something I didn’t. “And, I wanted Sebastian to be around people who don’t have everything handed to them.”
“I’m not perfect. People think I am, but I’m not,” I admitted, needing him to know that I wasn’t the rich, spoiled girl he’d called me last night. In my life, things are never as they appeared.
He studied me. “Maybe I wouldn’t like you so much if you were,” he said, staring at my mouth. I licked my lips and stared right back, thrilled by the heat I thought I could see there. Did he feel the same connection I did, like we’d known each other our entire lives?
I nodded. “So, about Teddy. Is that what you meant by paying you back?” I said.
“Yeah, I remembered from the open house brochure that you were a pianist. I want you to work with him, help him learn some new music for the band.”
Me? Helping someone when I could barely survive myself? I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have a lot going on with school and debate. Wouldn’t it be easier just to let me write you a check for the damage? You’d never have to see me again,” I added.
“That won’t work for me. Teddy needs extra help. And I know you’re busy, but music heals. It helped me deal with my parents’ murder,” he said. “Maybe you need this. Maybe it’s better than therapy.”
I took a step back. “You think I need therapy?” I a
sked, not liking where this was going.
He scrubbed his jaw. “There’s something going on with you. I see the pain you carry. In your eyes, on your face, and in your actions. And I get it. I do. I don’t know what happened to you, but I think you’re dealing with some shitty things in your life.”
He would never know how shitty.
“Is that a polite way of saying I’m fucked up?”
He shot me an amused smirk. “Don’t be a bitch, Nora.”
I exhaled.
“I want to help you,” he said. “I see strength in you, too, Nora. I saw it when you talked about Paris last night. I heard the hope in your voice. Whatever is eating at you, you have to fight back and not let it win.”
I looked away from him because he had no clue. I wasn’t strong; I was a loser. A girl who’d stopped fighting back a long time ago. A girl who’d given in.
I had to change the topic. “So when’s the first gig?”
“It’s the gym’s grand opening party. We’re opening in six weeks, but I pushed the party out until Halloween,” he said. “Just watch today, but I’d like you to start practicing with us. I know school starts this week, so maybe after that settles down, we can put some real work in.”
“If you help him, I’ll consider us even on the Escalade,” he said, tucking his hands in his designer jeans and leaning back against the wall nonchalantly. “Will you do it?”
“And if I don’t?”
His lips tipped up in a sly grin. “Then I’ll call your parents. Somehow, I get the feeling that’s the last thing you want right now.” He shrugged. “But it won’t come to that. You fucked up my car, and you know it,” he said, his steely eyes searching mine.
I glanced away from him and stared out the window over his shoulder, catching sight of the yellow-splattered Escalade. I owed him. Big time. And I deserved whatever payment he’d decided on. Truthfully, I didn’t have the money to pay him for the damages. I’d have to ask Aunt Portia, and I didn’t want to do that.
I tried to picture it. Me. Being part of a rock band and helping someone who wasn’t part of my social circle, and then toss in spending time with this hot guy who I wanted to fuck but who didn’t want me.
Very Bad Things Page 6
