Ronnie must’ve sensed the change in my mood because he took a step back. “I meant, what did the beautiful Ms. Walker have to say?”
His change in tone popped my rage balloon. “She’s fine with the party.”
“Woohoo! We’re going to party all night!” Ronnie whirled around in a circle. The quick movement sent his drunk ass off balance and he crashed into a stunning brunette who was talking to our friend Dexter.
“Hey!” she cried. Jungle juice splashed over the top of her cup and ran down her chest as she pushed Ronnie away.
Ronnie leered at her. “Want me to lick that off you?"
She cringed and moved closer to Dexter.
“I’m the lead singer of Panorama.” Ronnie motioned around the room where Morgan and Sam were setting up their musical equipment. “We’re getting signed by a record label this week. Soon we’ll be famous, and you’ll tell all your friends about me.”
“Right,” she said, rolling her heavily kohled eyes. The sarcasm in her voice made me think of Lee.
Lee also didn’t believe Panorama was ever going to amount to anything. But Ronnie wasn’t lying.
Three days ago, our band met with Topic Records. One of their execs had seen us open for Blue Puppy and he’d sent his people to track us down.
The label was legit offering to sign us. It was only a one-off deal, and the percentage of royalties weren’t anything to cream our jeans over, but it was a motherfucking contract. Our big break. It was everything we’d been dreaming about since we first started jamming together.
But Ronnie had read somewhere never to take a first offer, and in his infinite idiocy had told Topic Records we’d think it over. What the hell is there to think about? Someone wanted to pay us to make music. Up to this point we’d been playing for free drinks and the occasional tip crammed into a collection cup.
So eager to sign so I’d have some money to offer Lee, I’d nearly strangled Ronnie with the strap of my bass guitar. But then Sam and Morgan started saying they were having second thoughts about ‘selling out to the man,’ and I realized it would never happen.
Panorama would never be a household name. We’d never play stadiums. The songs I’d written would never be sung by anyone other than our most devoted fans. And worst of all, I’d never make enough money through music to keep the woman I loved from selling her body on stage every night.
I tightened my fingers around my phone as the familiar feelings of frustration and shame washed over me. What kind of man doesn’t help support his family?
I imagined I could hear the ghostly echo of my mom’s voice in my head saying, “Don’t be like your deadbeat dad.”
My shoulder’s sagged as I struggled to bring to mind the face of the rock band roadie I’d only met a handful of times. I wouldn’t be like that guy. I wouldn’t chase a career in music at the expense of my family.
And so earlier today, I’d finally manned up. I’d pawned my bass. It was an unfortunate twist of irony that my mom had given it to me on this day six years ago. But nostalgia wouldn’t pay the rent.
I slid my phone into my back pocket and felt for the fat wad of cash there. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Lee’s face when she saw the money. Just imagining her reaction made me smile. Maybe I could talk her into going out with me somewhere. Just the two of us. Like a date…
As I slipped into the fantasy of Lee and me together, the brunette gave me a coy smile.
“Who’s your hot friend?” she asked Dexter loudly.
The annoyed look on my friend’s face made me wince. Dexter hated it when the girls he liked went after me. I’d like to say it was a rare occurrence, but it wasn’t.
Ronnie interjected, “That’s Reed, but don’t waste your time. He’s been in love with the same girl his entire life.”
“Aw,” the brunette said, her smile softening. “That’s sweet.”
Dexter scoffed. “Nah, it’s fucking tragic. She doesn’t return his feelings.”
I turned away before I could see the brunette’s expression turn to pity. I didn’t need anyone's sympathy. Lee didn’t love me the way I loved her… yet. But I knew she would one day.
She was the one for me. I’d known it the moment she’d saved me from those older boys who were bullying me the first day of kindergarten.
One minute I was being shoved into the dirt. The next minute an avenging angel had rushed over from the bus stop. Baring her teeth like a rabid wolf, Lee had rounded on the older boys. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” She’d lifted her fists in a clear invitation.
Although she was much smaller than they were, the boys took off running.
She’d glared after them, and then helped me to my feet. “They won’t bother you now that you’re with me.”
And from that moment forward, I was with her. She’d owned my heart and soul. I’d followed her everywhere. Over time, she and Eden became my best friends and their Gran became my second mother.
The sound of Morgan tuning his electric guitar tore me from my memories.
Sam sat down at his drums and pounded out a frenetic beat I felt in the marrow of my bones. The ache to play with them was almost physically painful.
Moving closer, I took a seat on Gran’s lumpy old couch just across from Morgan’s amp. Even years after her death, the lingering scent of Gran’s Shalimar perfume still clung to the polyester cushions. The smell brought to mind happier times. Times when Eden, Lee, Gran, and I had gathered in the living room of the old house and played games or watched some mindless show on television.
Morgan flipped his long hair out of his face and scowled at me. I wasn’t sure if he was pissed at me for quitting the band or if he was just in a foul mood.
Trying to ignore his glare, I struck imaginary chords on my knee. Damn. Losing my bass and my band hurt worse than I'd imagined. Maybe one of these lame ass jobs I kept interviewing for would pan out and I’d make enough money to buy my bass back.
My mind drifted back to the interview I’d had this afternoon. The convenience store manager had stared at my long hair in barely disguised disgust.
Screw that guy. Lee liked my hair, and I wouldn't change anything about my appearance that she admired. Hell, just look what I’d been willing to go through earlier this year for her. Memories of the weeks of throbbing pain had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
The cushions next to me dipped.
I glanced over to see the gorgeous brunette sitting next to me.
“Ronnie said to give you this.” She offered me a cup of jungle juice.
I glanced over her shoulder.
Ronnie and Dexter were standing in the hallway. Ronnie motioned between me and the brunette while dry humping the air. Dexter gave him a sour look and stormed into the kitchen.
“When a beautiful woman offers you a drink, you take it,” the brunette admonished.
Amused at her boldness, I grabbed the red cup and took a sip. All I tasted was the sugary Kool-Aid, which was impressive because I knew Ronnie had dumped at least eight bottles of alcohol into the mix.
The brunette smiled, her teeth flashing white against her dark lipstick. “I’m Aubry.”
“I’m Reed.”
“I know.” She continued staring at me the way the band groupies did. Like they wanted to spray whip cream all over me and eat me for dessert.