Gabby smiles. “Sounds like you as a kid.”
I shrug. “Maybe I haven’t changed that much.”
“Hey,” Gabby says. “Since I’m keeping this epic secret for you, do you think you can do me a favor?”
I owe Gabby about a million favors after the last few years, so I’m glad she’s starting to cash them in. “Sure. What?”
“Do you think you could get AJ to play Anna-Marie’s wedding?”
I pause. “When is it?”
“Two weeks.”
That’s right between the LA performance and the tour, so it’s not out of the question. “I’ll ask,” I say. “I might be able to talk Jenna into it, because she’ll clearly want to impress you.”
Gabby laughs. “Jenna Rollins. Will want to impress me.”
“Of course. You’re my favorite sister, after all.”
“And I have such fierce competition.”
“Yeah, well,” I say. “Out of every sister, you’re pretty much the best.”
“You’re buttering me up for when Jenna says no. But if you can pull it off, Anna-Marie will die.” Gabby pauses and then laughs again. “How did this happen to you, anyway? I mean, you’re good looking, but you’re not that good looking.”
I raise an eyebrow. “If you tell me Alec is hotter than me again, you’re getting a slice of pizza to the face.”
“No, really,” she says, “are you exuding some kind of strange pheromone you should be aware of? Because that could be good for business if you’re playing on the street, but it could become a problem in a rock band.”
“It’s my new cologne. Busk, for men.”
“Yes,” she says, with a mock eye-roll. “I’m sure that’s it. And this is totally not self-serving and definitely because I’m an overprotective big sister, but I will need to meet Jenna at some point.”
“You can probably come to band practice. But you’ll have to pretend not to know anything, because only Jenna knows I’ve told you.”
“I can keep my mouth shut.”
I smile. “I’ll text Jenna and let her know.”
Gabby pauses. “Should you be doing that? Texting her a lot, I mean?”
“Sure,” I say. And then I realize what she means. “Shit. Celebrity phones get hacked all the time.”
“Just something to be aware of.”
I groan. “We’re not going to be able to go out, and Alec is going to be there during band practice. If I can’t text or call, then when am I going to talk to her?” We could always sneak around, but I don’t love the idea. Too much chance of getting caught, and besides, she’ll have to be home a lot, since she has a kid.
It scares me how much this bothers me. I’ve never been high maintenance before. If anything, I’ve been chewed out—even dumped—by a number of girls who said I didn’t pay enough attention to them, that I wasn’t open enough, that I didn’t spend enough time with them. Wouldn’t talk on the phone with them for hours, or text them all the time.
But this—the way I’m feeling right now—it changes everything. And I know I’m hoping for something better with her, something that might resemble the holy grail that everyone else is always talking about, the thing I play along as if I understand. Because yeah, sex feels good. But, like the drugs, the aftermath always felt . . . empty.
This afternoon in the hotel, though, even just talking and kissing and holding each other . . . There was nothing empty about that. Only about not being with her anymore.
Gabby smiles. “You could get some of those pay-as-you-go phones. Like they use in movies.”
“You sound like you’re joking, but that’s actually a really good idea.”
“See? I am the best sister ever. Totally worth getting your band to play at my best friend’s wedding as a surprise so I can also be the best maid of honor.”
I finish my pizza and take our plates to the sink. “Agreed,” I say. “Let me see what I can do.”
Nine
Felix
I spend most of the next couple days practicing the cello parts to the songs on the most recent AJ album. Everything We Are is more musically complex than their first album, but it still isn’t Bach. Playing the notes isn’t a problem, though there are places I want to play differently than Mason. I text Jenna, and she says that’s fine.
I hope it’s still fine when she hears me play.
Alec is the first person to show up to practice besides me. I’ve already been there for hours, as evidenced by my three empty coffee cups. I haven’t eaten much and I’m jittery, but I have all the songs down, and tentative cello parts for several of the songs Mason didn’t play.
Alec walks in and surveys the damage. I’ve got the sheet music to just about everything printed and spread all over, and I’m halfway through track six of Everything We Are, a ballad called “Imperfect Perfection” about finally finding the person who will accept and love you for your faults as much as your strengths.
This part of the story, I’m still not sure I believe.
“You’ve been playing with the recording?” Alec asks. He leans against the wall, his thumbs jammed into the pockets of his fitted jeans.
“Yeah,” I say. “I know it’s not the same as live, but it’s something.”
Alec nods. “You don’t have to be a carbon copy of Mason, you know.”
“And I’m not. But it’s not a bad place to start. It’s what your fans will be looking for, anyway.”
“Our fans,” Alec says. “They’ll accept you if you do something different, as long as you don’t suck.”
“Thanks, man. No pressure.”
Alec laughs. “Dude. You’re jumping in with a week to performance. Pressure is definitely on.”
“Yeah, well,” I say. “Bring it.”
Alec smiles, but then his face grows serious. “I heard you and Jenna didn’t take me up on my offer.”
My mouth opens a little, and I try not to gape at him. Are we seriously going to have a conversation right here in the studio about how I didn’t sleep with Jenna?
How much does he know, anyway?
“You heard right,” I say.
Alec shakes his head, like he’s disappointed in us. “Jenna’s gorgeous, but don’t let her get to you.”
Now I actually do gape at him. “Are you suggesting I can’t control where I put my penis when there’s a beautiful woman around?”
“I’m suggesting she’s hot,” Alec says. “I was all over that, remember?”
I remember. I’m surrounded by reminders, right down to the very music I’m playing. Which suddenly seems a whole lot less theoretical with Alec standing in front of me. I have no idea how much of the stuff in their music is made up, and how much is based on how they used to be together.
I at once want to ask her, and am afraid to know.
“I don’t blame you for being into her,” Alec says. “I still think you guys should have done it and gotten it over with. But if that’s not your style, hands off. That’s all I’m saying.” He scratches at the dark beard scruff he seems to keep in a constant five o’ clock shadow.
He seems to be judging me for not wanting to have a one-night stand. “Thanks for the advice.” I sound more pissed about this than I want to on my first day on the job, but far less than is warranted by Alec’s remarks.
Alec doesn’t seem fazed by any of it. “No problem,” he says, as if I’d meant to thank him earnestly. Then he starts turning on and checking the sound equipment.
Thankfully Jenna and Ty arrive before Alec thinks of any other warnings to issue me, and before I decide to tell him off for suggesting I’m not into Jenna for anything but her body.
Ty bounds in, waving his iPad. “Hey, Felix! Look how far I am in Angry Birds!” Just like the first time I saw him, he’s wearing a sweater vest—a dark green one this time—over a collared shirt
, with dress pants and loafers. Private school uniform, maybe? I realize that for all I know about Jenna, which is a considerable amount after so few days, there’s a lot I still don’t know when it comes to the day-to-day—both for her and Ty.
Jenna strides down the stairs, looking over his shoulder. “Wait,” she says. “How far are you? You haven’t passed me, have you?”
She smiles at me and I smile back, and have a hard time keeping it from lingering. I feel better just being in the same room as her. She’s wearing a gray tank top over dark jeans today. Her black bra straps peek out from under the tank top, and a dainty silver necklace with a small medallion dangles just below her collarbone. It’s a simple look, more so than I’ve previously seen on her, but she looks no less amazing in it.
“I’m on 4-16.” Ty’s bright voice tears me away from staring too long at his mom. He shows me a screen with a pile of pigs in a hole, with a bunch of stone blocks holding them in.
“Oh, no,” Jenna says. “If you get to 4-18 during practice, let me know right away, okay? You are not allowed to pass me up. It’s the only thing I can beat you at.”
“That’s not fair,” Ty says. “I could beat you if you let me.”
Jenna shakes her head. “This is my one remaining strand of pride, and I’m holding on to the bitter end.”
Ty scowls at me. “If I get ahead of her, she’ll take my iPad away.”
Jenna nods. “Damn straight.”
Ty settles down at my feet, almost sitting on my bow. “Here! You can watch!”
And I do, as he sends a bird sailing right into the pig defenses and knocking a bunch of them out.
“Nice,” I tell him.
Ty grins.
Out of her bag, Jenna produces two big pastry boxes, and presents one to me. “I made you a pie,” she says. “To welcome you to the band.”
Alec rolls his eyes, and Ty gives me a sly smile. I feel like they know something about this pie that I don’t. Also, she bakes? It’s not something I would have suspected, but somehow I can see it—Jenna rolling out the dough, accidentally getting flour in her jet-black hair. “Thanks,” I say. When she hands me the box, our fingers brush, and we both smile.
Again, I have to remember to stop.
Roxie arrives, and is adjusting the height of her stool for her platform boots when Leo comes in, waving a tube around in his hand.
“All right, Rox!” he calls. “Take off your boots.”
Alec swears. “After practice, Leo.”
“No way,” Leo says. “And let her toe fungus continue to grow in those contaminated wedges?”
Roxie looks surprised that Leo calls her shoes that, though I don’t know whether it’s because he’s correct or making stuff up again.
She recovers quickly. “Leo,” she says, wielding a drum stick like a hammer. “If you come near me with that stuff, so help me—”
“Enough!” Alec says. “Roxie, just put on the cream. You lost the vote. The sooner you get it over with, the sooner we can play already.”
“Do you have toe fungus, Roxie?” Ty asks. “Maybe you should keep your feet in the refrigerator so they don’t mold. That’s what Mom does.”
We all look at Jenna.
“With food,” she says. “Not my feet.”
“Right,” Ty says, frowning. “That’s what I said.”
Leo, at this point, notices the pastry box in my lap. “Jenna made pie? Sweet! Dish up, man.”
Jenna shakes her head. “That’s for Felix.”
“All for him?” Leo whines. “Come on, Jenna. Don’t hold out on us.”
“Let her be,” Alec says. “She just needs to give him the pie and get it over with.”
Both Jenna and I glare at him, and now the kid looks confused.
“I brought two pies,” Jenna says. “One to share with the band, and one for Felix. To welcome him. One of us has to be a decent person.”
“I’m decent,” Leo says. “And I have an indecent appetite for your pie.”
Alec looks at Leo like he’s just said something utterly disgusting, but he does take the slice of what looks like kiwi-lime pie Leo hands him as he digs into the second box.
I set mine aside, too nervous about the upcoming practice to eat. “Mind if I save it until after?”
“Sure,” Jenna says. “It’s your pie.”
Ty looks at me like I’m crazy. “I want a piece now.” Jenna arches an eyebrow at him, and Ty grumbles out an abashed, “Please.”
Leo offers him one, and Ty sets about destroying it.
I start warming up, even though technically I’ve been playing for hours. Mostly I just want to look like I’m doing something while Leo puts down his pie, pulls Roxie’s boots off her feet, removes her socks, and proceeds to give her a foot massage.
I’ve never had foot fungus, but I’m pretty sure he’s exceeding the amount of caressing that is medically necessary. I look at Jenna, and Jenna looks back at me, and we both have the same wide-eyed look.
Are they? I mouth at her.
She shrugs, and shakes her head.
Roxie has her head tilted back now, and her eyes half-closed, her mouth emitting sounds that remind me of yesterday afternoon with Jenna at the hotel. I try not to think about the way my body felt when I kissed her, the way her fingers teased the back of my neck, spreading goosebumps all over my body. I go back to playing, but now I’m not even hitting the right notes. They all look at me in surprise, and I lower my bow.
“Sorry,” I say, and I cast around for an excuse that doesn’t involve me getting lost in fantasies or not knowing how to play my own damn instrument, and fail to find one.
“All right,” Alec says. “Can we get started?”
Jenna sits down at the keyboard, which I notice used to be positioned across the room, but is now next to my spot. Alec gives Jenna a look that tells me he notices, too, but he doesn’t say anything else.
And then we play.
The first song is a crashing, fast-paced number in which Jenna and Alec take turns singing about all their many exes and how they don’t compare to what they have now. The cello part is simple, and I watch Jenna as I play. Her fingers are light on the keys, and she sings like she means it. Her voice is husky and gorgeous and I find myself getting lost in it.
It’s not like I haven’t heard her voice plenty by now, given how many times I’ve heard their albums over the last couple days, and I already knew she’s seriously talented. But listening to her sing live like this—damn, she’s good. And this shouldn’t affect the way I feel about her, but it does. I know it’s probably my imagination, but as we play, her voice and the notes from my cello seem to vibrate together with this intensity that echoes the attraction I felt for her yesterday, and always.
I smile as I think of Alec being one of the exes in the song, like Jenna is singing it all for me.
Next we play one of the slower numbers. Alec is calling the shots, and I wonder if he realized when he picked this song that it would be more difficult for me than the last. The cello part for this one is complicated, because it ticks up into counterpoint, adding a second melody during the bridge. I’m actually impressed with Mason for having tried it—it’s daring for pop music, and while I don’t think this one is going to be a hit single, the effect is both beautiful and fun. It also requires me to blend like hell.
When we hit the bridge, I don’t blend. I’m not even listening to Jenna anymore as I try to get the tone right. I’m playing the notes, but the tempo is off. For the recording, they played the song more straight up, but now everyone is following Roxie’s lead, when I’m used to either following a conductor or making it up as I go. Roxie doesn’t stand in front and signal me when she’s going to speed up or slow down. In the part where I’ve been practicing a rubato, slowing down to emphasize the melody, she speeds up, and so do Jenna and Alec on the keybo
ard and lead guitar.
The result is disastrous. I try to correct, but it’s too late. We all careen in different directions and Alec stops playing and waves for everyone to stop.
I want to walk out right there. I cannot be so bad at this.
“All right,” Alec says. “You okay, Felix?”
I feel like disappearing. “Yeah, sorry.”
“No big,” Alec says. “This is why we practice. You want to do the bridge again, or take it from the top?”
“From the top.” And this time I listen to Roxie, focusing on following her. I’ve come up with a set of bowings, but I can already see where I need to make corrections to fix my sound. I can’t fix the sheet music fast enough while we play, but I also know that a week from now, I’ll be up on a stage without music in hand, because that’s how they roll in rock music.
The idea is terrifying.
The second go through of the song is better, but not great. We move on to a couple easier pieces—for me anyway—and then Alec wants to do a song that has no cello part.
“You want to sit this one out, Felix?” he asks.
“No. Let me try what I’ve come up with and see what you think.”
Alec nods, and Roxie counts off.
This one goes better. When I hear it all together, I quickly realize the music I’ve composed is too complicated—it sounds like I’m trying to compete for attention. So I simplify a bit on the fly, and by the end of the song, it’s actually blending.
Alec looks at the others when we finish, and everybody nods.
“That was great,” Jenna says to me, and Alec agrees.
“Almost as good as Mason,” Ty says, and Jenna gives him a look.
I’m not sure I would call it great, but at least now I’m bordering on passable. “I’ll catch up to Mason eventually.”
“Sure,” Alec says. “Let’s try another one.”
Alec tirelessly grinds me through every song in their repertoire, listening to everything I’ve written to go along with the songs. Some are better than others, and Leo offers me some notes about how I can change to better complement his guitar line, which frankly is doing the same job my cello wants to do in most of the songs. He doesn’t seem to think I’m trying to step on his toes, though, barefoot or otherwise.
Everything We Are Page 9