by Patty Blount
The girl wearin’ hot red boots
Pointed at me and said, “Hey.”
I stared at those end to end curves,
Pointed right back, and said, “’K.”
Not bad. I jotted it down so I wouldn’t forget it. It was a start and might spark some more ideas later. I played around with the riffs I’d started for Kristen’s song. I’d sent it to Sam and Nick, but only Nick had replied so far and said he liked it. Guess Sam was going to make an issue out of everything with Kristen. I shook my head, put in my earphones, and got lost in the sound.
I almost didn’t hear Kristen come up the driveway. I looked up just in time to see her take a bicycle helmet off her head and shake out her blond hair. She was wearing tight jeans with the bottoms tucked into those same bright red boots. I didn’t even realize I was staring until she shot me one of her looks. I just grinned and made no apologies. She angled her head, frowning at me.
I squirmed. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “Just trying to figure you out.”
I grinned. “Keep trying, baby. I’m an enigma.” When she rolled her eyes, I swallowed the groan I’d nearly let out. An enigma?
Kristen let it go and stepped inside. “Where’s Sam and Nick?”
“Not here yet.” Which was cool by me because I’d get more time alone with my white cat. I stared at her for a long moment…until she shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms, clearly bugged. Yeah. So we should get down to work. “Have a seat.” I led her to a stool and grabbed my iPad. “Do you listen to any music that’s not from Broadway?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said with a distinct tone of duh in her voice. “Of course I do.”
I doubted it. “Well, who do you like?”
“Let’s see. I like Taylor Swift and One Direction and—”
“Please don’t say Bieber.”
“Why not?”
I shuddered and changed the subject, fast. “What about rock music?”
“I like a lot of oldies. Led Zeppelin, Bon Jovi, Aerosmith.”
My eyebrows lifted. Hope flared, and I put up a hand. “Okay, that’s a start. Any newer stuff?” When she shrugged, I tapped my tablet and played a song from Avenged Sevenfold’s latest album. We listened to the heavy beat, but she didn’t seem impressed, so I played Thousand Foot Krutch. She did some head bopping, so I figured she liked that band a bit, but there was no real appreciation. Hmmm. Converting a theater girl to a hard rocker was going to be a lot tougher than I’d expected. “Have you ever heard of Halestorm?”
“Nope.” Kristen shook her head. “Well, except for you. You mentioned them after my show. It is a them, right?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “Female lead singer. Amazing.” I played “I Miss the Misery” for her, and when it was over, searched her face. “What do you think?”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s all…so noisy.”
I stared at her for a minute and then cracked up. “That’s the point,” I said when I could breathe. “Rock music is all about the decibels, baby. Rebellious. Defiant.” I lifted a fist, and Kristen’s eyes lit up.
“Defiant?”
“Sure. Rock was born in the fifties…maybe even the forties, depending on where you look. Some experts believe it was born in the South, a fusion of jazz and gospel.”
“What do you believe?” She leaned forward and cupped her chin in her hands, and I had to fight the urge to stare at her chest, which was suddenly right there.
“Me? I believe rock and roll was born in 1948.”
“Exactly in 1948.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why? What happened?”
Slowly, I smiled and pulled over the second stool. “I’m so glad you asked.” I tapped the tablet’s screen, brought up a web browser, and showed her. “This was born.”
Kristen took the tablet and examined the picture I’d pulled up. “A guitar.”
“The electric guitar. The first guitar whose sound could be amplified. This was a game changer. But that’s not all.” I swiped at the screen and brought up another image. “This also happened in the same year.”
“The record?”
“The LP record, which established the album as a musical showcase.” Jesus, did she not know anything?
“Cool,” she said.
“Not done yet.” I grinned at her comment. “There was one more thing invented around this time that spread rock and roll to every corner of the country.” I swiped, tapped, and gave her back the tablet.
She squinted at the image. “What the hell is that?”
“That’s a transistor.”
Nodding, she slowly smiled. “Oh, I get it. Radios.”
“Yep,” I said, popping the p. “Wanna take a guess why this matters?”
“Easy.” She lifted her shoulders. “Radios got small and portable, which extended your rebellion, your defiance.”
Impressed, I leaned closer. “You learn fast.” She smelled really good. I just sat there, letting that scent wrap me up. It was oranges, I think. Something citrusy, and it was making me dizzy.
“So…um.…what next?”
I jerked. Stop smelling the girl and get to work, you idiot. I cleared my throat and asked, “Want to give one a try?”
Her eyes snapped back to mine and popped wide. “Wait, just you and me? I thought you wanted me in your band.”
“Oh, I do. I just thought we could try a few on our own.” So I can keep you to myself.
She angled her head and studied me. “So I’m really here for my voice. Nothing else?”
Warning! Danger! Danger! “Um.” I paused, cleared my throat. “Look, Kristen. If the only thing I wanted was a hot babe in black leather, I could have held tryouts after cheerleading practice. I want you, Kristen. Your voice. Your skills. You.”
She lowered her eyes and murmured, “You sounded good the other day. I don’t see why you need me.”
Good? Huh. I was shooting for awesome. Abruptly embarrassed, I queued up a Seether song called “Words As Weapons.” “Can you howl?”
Kristen’s mouth fell open. “Sorry, what?”
“Howl. Like a wolf.”
“First you want me to purr and scream, and now you want me to howl? Can’t we just sing like normal people?”
“It’s really just an ooh and an aah. No big deal.” She lifted one eyebrow in a classic yeah, right look, and I squirmed on my stool. “Okay, I’m going with no howling.” I tapped the tablet screen and brought up the lyrics to the song. “You sing this part. I’ll do the rest,” I said, indicating the chorus.
“Okay, I’ve got the notes.” She met my eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I can sing this.”
Of that, I had absolutely no doubt. I stood up, found my camera, and set it up. I didn’t even ask first. I didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she already was and give her time to reconsider. The camera would help me convince her that she was good at this because I had a feeling she was gonna keep fighting me on it.
“Okay. When you’re ready, sing. I’ll follow with the strings and the rest of the lyrics.” I gave her a count off, and she took a breath and sang the first line in a tone that was so pure, I almost missed my cue. I added the guitar track and then took over the lyrics, hoping like hell I could impress this girl. When I got to the ooh and aah howl, she grinned and joined me, making me flub my strumming. Her voice, God… It was the most flawless sound I’d ever heard, and just like I’d hoped, once she got started, she took over and sang the rest of it, even the parts that were mine.
I was more than willing to give it up for her.
We plowed through “Words As Weapons” again and then switched things up. I took her through some Evanescence, Stone Sour’s “Do Me a Favor,” and Avenged Sevenfold’s “Hail to the King,” which she knocked out of the fucking park. Kristen had a good ear and an even better eye. Al
l I did was show her the sheet music, and she knew exactly when to time her delivery, punching her vocals with a little whine. People walking their dogs stopped to listen, and by the time Sam and Nick got there, we were dripping sweat and guzzling down bottles of water.
“Hey, guys.”
Nick held up a hand for a high five while Sam shook out his mane. I took a moment to redo the tail keeping my own too-long hair off my face. Full disclosure? I hated long hair, but it went with the rock god image.
“Kristen, this is Sam and Nick.”
“I met Nick before. Hey, Sam.” She nodded to the guys and held the cold bottle of water against her head.
“Damn, that was sick!” Nick said, emphasizing the last word with a wave of both hands. “We heard you guys before we got out of the car and—whoa!” He pointed to the amplifier setting. “You’re not even jacked up. That is some serious skill.”
Kristen smiled and looked away, maybe a little embarrassed, but definitely pleased.
“So what do you think?” Sam asked. “Jamming with a metal band’s more fun than a night on Broadway, right?”
She angled her head and narrowed her eyes, pretending to think about that for a moment. “It’s…um, different.”
“Oh, come on!” I protested. “You were definitely into it.”
Kristen didn’t answer, but I saw the way her blue eyes sparkled behind a smile she couldn’t totally hide. Sam dropped a paper bag on the table that I knew held bagels—I could smell them—grabbed his guitar, and jacked in. The speakers whined out a bit of feedback, and Kristen clapped her hands to her ears.
“Let’s get on with it.” Sam took his position. “How much time have we got, Eli?”
Shit. Anna. I glanced at my phone. “Couple hours, at least.”
Nick grabbed his drumsticks and sat down behind the kit my dad let him keep here. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Let’s do one of our own,” Sam said, and I nodded.
“Uh, hold up a minute.” Kristen put up a hand. “I’m not singing anything that disses girls or is pure sex. And I’m most definitely not screaming, growling, howling, or meowing.”
“Here we go,” Sam muttered, but I shot up a hand to cut him off.
“Wait.” I frowned. “Why do you think we dis girls?”
“Never mind. Let’s just do this. Nick?” Sam spun his hand in the air, and Nick counted us off, and we performed our crowd-pleasing hit, “Let You In.” I wrote it about two years ago. Every time we performed it, we got the crowd on their feet.
Okay, so crowd was a bit of an exaggeration.
It was more like the twenty or thirty people who just wanted to sit down for a while after spending all afternoon wandering through the street fairs and malls we usually played, which is exactly why I considered it a hit. If we could get them on their feet, we must be good. It began with a mellow beat that morphed into a violent chorus of screaming metal and heavy vocals that I loved. I couldn’t stop watching Kristen chair-dance.
You’re looking at me with those big soft eyes.
Everything in your heart is undisguised.
I can see all of your hopes and dreams.
Pinned on some words and a diamond ring.
You don’t know, you can’t ever understand.
For all that to happen,
I gotta open wide and let you in.
Inside my head,
Inside my soul,
Inside my heart,
Where there’s still a hole.
I can’t let that happen.
I can’t go back there again.
I’m broken in pieces,
I can never let you in.
When I hit the chorus, I caught Kristen’s eye and waved her over. She joined in, ad-libbing her own lyrics.
“Inside my head,” I screamed.
“Baby, let me in,” Kristen sang, coming in just as I finished the line. She was soft and tentative, and Sam rolled his eyes. Come on! Cut loose! I mentally begged. This song was harsh—that was its point. A soft mood just didn’t cut it.
“Inside my soul.”
“Baby, let me in,” she repeated, holding the last note.
“Inside my heart, where there’s still a hole.”
Sam dropped off, and I knew he was about to call for a do-over when Kristen took off like she was born to sing this song. “Baby, let me in, ’cause I’m not her. I can make it better, make you whole. Let me love you, let me be the one, let me, baby, oh, let me in. ”
I always thought the growling vocals and the hot guitars fully conveyed the song’s theme—a guy afraid of commitment. But Kristen’s sweet voice added an element I never knew was missing until now. The song was also about a girl who refused to give up on this scarred and scared guy. I nodded and grinned because Christ, it was so damn perfect, I wanted to hop in the car and head straight for the nearest record label. We played the last notes, and when Nick ended with one last clash of his cymbals, all hands went up in a cheer.
“Yeah!”
“Woo!”
“That was fucking awesome!”
“Kristen, that was insane.” I grabbed her in a hug and felt those luscious curves melt against my edges.
“I know, right? You guys are incredibly good. I had no idea! You should play at my school. They’re looking for a band for a rally next month.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “They would never let us. We’re too hard-core.”
“That’s just wrong,” she decided. “You guys wrote that song? It was fabulous. Seriously.”
Fabulous? I laughed. Who says that? Everything about Kristen was big and bold and over the top, and I couldn’t wipe the dumb-ass grin off my face. “Kristen, tell me you didn’t enjoy the hell out of that.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I totally loved it.”
“Enough to do more with us?” I looked to Sam and Nick for confirmation. Nick nodded with enthusiasm. Sam just shrugged. I’d have to deal with him later. “We have a YouTube channel and a website. Every month, we review a new band and post a song cover. We want you in.” When she didn’t say anything, I shifted gears. “Check this out.” I tapped a few buttons on the tablet, and Common Kiss’s website opened. “This is the band we’re reviewing this month. They’re called Common Kiss. It’s Shakespeare, or something.”
“No.” Kristen shook her head. “I think it’s Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”
“Who the hell’s that?” Sam asked.
“She’s a poet. I think it’s from Sonnets from the Portuguese.”
He flung up a hand. “I don’t actually care.”
“Sam, will you just chill, please?” I turned back to Kristen. “Anyhow, we’re gonna cover their song, ‘Lie Like You Mean It.’ I’ve been working on new arrangements, and we’ve played around, recording bits of it.”
“Can I hear it?”
I swiped at the tablet and queued it up for her. “It’s still raw,” I said with a shrug, abruptly anxious for her to love it. A second or two went by, and then my vocals slashed through the air.
You said you don’t love me,
Said you don’t need me,
Said you don’t wanna see me anymore.
You told me things you couldn’t possibly mean.
I refused to listen. Baby, I’m wounded to the core.
Tears in your eyes, so why can’t you admit
You’re just lying like you really mean it.
And without any preparation, without any thought, Kristen just opened her mouth and added her own touch.
“I don’t love you anymore. I don’t wanna fight this war. I’m not lying. I really mean it.”
Her voice had an Adele tone that added cool depth to the biting pain my lyrics gave the song. Her face was incredibly expressive as she sang, and as far as I was concerned, that was just
the cherry on top.
I tapped the Stop button and opened the camera. “Sing it again, just like that.”
Kristen rolled her eyes but sang the lines again—better this time. I shot some video of her, then grabbed a mic and plugged it into my laptop. “One more time, Kris. Same way.”
Her eyebrows went up at the nickname. Oops. She sang it a third time, just her, and I recorded it to the sound editing software installed on the computer. “Kristen, this is so fucking amazing. Thanks for hanging with us.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Kristen. You were seriously awesome.” Nick held up a hand for a high five. “I wasn’t sure at first, but you were clutch.”
Kristen grinned.
“Not bad.” Sam jerked his head in something thinly resembling a nod.
“Go ahead. Admit it. This was awesome, right?” I grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes but nodded.
“Yeah, it totally was. I wasn’t sure I would like it. I mean, I see what you guys and your fans post on the Beat and figured it would just be noise and some obscene lyrics, you know?”
My stomach clenched when she mentioned the Beat. The only person who ever said we were obscene was BroadwayBaby17. “Aw, fuck.” Nick looked at me sharply, but Sam was biting back a smile. He got it.
“What? What’s the matter?” She circled her hands. “Come on, I know you know that site. There’s a Ride Out account being used.”
No. Please, no. I shut my eyes and waited for all of my plans to pop like one of Anna’s soap bubbles.
Sam’s grin spread slow and wide. “Of course we’re on it. We’re just stunned someone like you is.”
Kristen turned to face Sam, shot out a hip, and narrowed her eyes. “Like me? What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothing, nothing. Untwist your panties.”
“Jesus, Sam! Will you knock that shit off?” Nick slapped the back of Sam’s head. Sam just laughed and pulled out his phone.
“Okay, okay. So what’s your user name?” he asked Kristen, and I wanted to stuff my fingers in my ears so I wouldn’t have to hear her say it. Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.