Puck Buddies

by Tara Brown

  She screams and jumps, singing every single word to the song. She knows them all.

  They win back my stare, working so hard for it with “Flowers in Your Hair.” I’ve never seen a band this perfect in my life. Even their use of cymbals and tambourines is art.

  The love of music flows from them as raw talent. Every single movement and grunt and word is placed in a harmonious flow. Their talent is beyond musician or artist, they’re something else. Something better.

  I’ve seen hundreds of concerts and this is the best. The magic of the hall is as believable as a Christmas tree.

  They don’t need anything but a couple of instruments to be flawless. There’s no show, there’s love.

  We could be around a campfire and I would be in awe.

  Their hipster vibe is even perfect. It suits them.

  When they play “Stubborn Love” I almost die.

  Her cello in the beginning cuts right through me.

  His words bring tears to my eyes.

  I want that kind of love.

  I want someone who will stand and scream outside my house and refuse to leave until I come down and see them.

  If Matt loved me like this, our relationship would be this song.

  It hurts to face the truth of us in this song.

  It burns in my throat with tears and my own version of stubborn love.

  The attraction I have for the lead singer is disturbing. I don’t fangirl. I don’t even say hello to singers. I want to have his babies. He’s a pied piper, I believe that. I would follow him off a cliff if he would just keep singing and playing that guitar. He shows us love, true love. He loves playing and singing and music and possibly his guitar and he lets us see that. There isn’t an actor in the world who could fake that kind of love.

  They finish the show with “Ho Hey,” Nat’s favorite one. The entire crowd sings along. My skin vibrates with the feel of his voice and the foot drum and the cello. But I can’t bounce back from “Stubborn Love.” I love the song. I love them. I love this show. But my heart is broken.

  The countdown hits as they’re done the last song. We scream the numbers with them and when the hour hits, the ceiling bursts with confetti. Champagne is passed out and they play us “Auld Lang Syne.” I push down my pain, like always, as we kiss and toast and hug, all of us—girls and guys we’ve known since we were kids.

  When it ends the band thanks us and wishes us happy New Year’s.

  And although they’ve just made and ruined my entire life with one song, they’re humble and grateful.

  And I can’t even. I just can’t.

  Carson is screaming next to me as loud as Nat.

  We cheer until I don’t have a voice left as they leave us wanting more and yet satiated.

  Nat starts to cry. Sobs rip from her as she flings her arms around my neck and clings to me. I don’t know why she’s crying but it doesn’t matter. I hold her, letting her release on me.

  Carson slaps me on the back, whispering, “Absolutely amazing gift, Sami. Top-notch. I think I came at one point. You better be careful or people will start to see you’re not such a vengeful slut.”

  “Whatever.” I laugh as Nat sniffles and giggles.

  “Which club next?” He tilts his head toward the door where everyone is milling about.

  “You pick. I haven’t been here in ages. The clubs I went to before would be different now.”

  “I just want to go back to the room.” Nat wipes her eyes. “I’m done. That was better than anything I’ve ever seen. I feel a loss from the show ending but the jet-lag is also hurting. I wanna sleep and dream about Wesley and that’s all.” She closes her makeup-smudged eyes and sighs.

  “Okay, bed it is.”

  Carson rolls his eyes. “I’m going dancing, ladies. Peace!” He heads for the crowd, inciting craziness into everyone as he shouts and takes them away.

  “Over a thousand people just flooded into the streets to go clubbing.” She winces.

  “Right, but it’s a holiday. They must be ready for the party in the clubs.”

  “Yikes.” She links her arm into mine and starts us walking. “Thanks.”

  “Whatever.” I scoff. She has no idea how much I love her. She wouldn’t understand. She has no idea how much I am capable of loving.

  When we get to the room, we crash hard, both exhausted and a little drunk.

  We sleep until my phone wakes us up.

  I slap along the bed to find it, hitting it until it shuts up.

  “I hate jet-lag,” Nat moans.

  “Me too.”

  “Sami!” Carson shouts at me from somewhere. He sounds funny, like he’s in a hallway.

  “Carson?” I lift my head, groaning. “Is he here?”

  “The phone, dollface,” he says, laughing.

  I pick it up, realizing he’s Facetimed me and I answered. “Hey?”

  “You look pretty.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Breakfast in an hour?”

  “Sure,” I grumble.

  “Your room or downstairs?”

  “Downstairs.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “Okay.” I hang up and sigh. “I’m sleepy.”

  “Me too.” Nat rolls over, giving me a smile. “So are you going to explain the hockey game and the hockey dude and what’s going on with you two?”

  “No. It’s just a thing.” I don’t want to jinx it.

  “Okay,” she says like we’re going to talk about it more later on. But we aren’t. “Stubborn Love” is clinging to me and my heart hurts. He doesn’t love me like that. He doesn’t love me. It’s been years of this bullshit and I’m sort of done.

  Linda’s right, she always was. I want to be loved. I want to be safe.

  I’ll never be that with him.

  “What day do we fly back again?”

  “This afternoon. We’re picking Mom and Dad up on the way. Mom’s in France and Dad’s in England.”

  “As usual.”

  “Right. So we’ll have the six hours across the pond with them both, which I intend to be sleepy or drunk for. I advise you to do the same.”

  “Your parents love me. I’m dating a Fairfield. That’s huge. I’m in college to be what I want and am starting my new job this fall, if I can find one. I don’t cost them anything or make headlines.” She laughs and pokes me. “I’m the daughter they never had.”

  I laugh with her, poking her back, pretending her words don’t hurt. They wouldn’t normally but my mom’s little spiel about Matt is still picking at me. My whole life is.

  I’ve never felt so alone.

  In my heart the only people who understand me are the Lumineers. It’s an intensely desperate feeling.

  When we get downstairs my phone vibrates but I leave it in my purse. Someone’s calling.

  They call a second time. But I don’t answer. Instead, I paste that winning Ford smile on my face and hug Carson.

  “Who has a hangover?” He inspects us both.

  “I do.” Nat nods. “A Lumineers hangover. I knew it was going to be amazing, but I had no idea it would be like that. It was”—tears fill her eyes—“magic. Real magic.”

  “Hands down the best performance I’ve ever seen. And I saw Prince live in a friend’s backyard. Last night has me sending my dad’s assistant demands. I want the tour schedule, and I intend to be backstage at least half of their smaller performances.”

  “I’m in.” Nat nods.

  “You have school and your mom would never allow it. Carson barely shows up to class.”

  “I still manage good grades.”

  “Whatever.” I don’t want to talk about school or the Lumineers or anything. I don’t want to talk. I want to explode as we stroll to breakfast.

  I stick my bag under the table when I sit. It’s vibrating again.

  Carson’s phone goes off at the same time. His eyes lift as he checks out the screen and then he winces, putting it back. He takes a breath and glances
back at the menu. “I do love the buffets in places like this—I just hate getting my own food.” He turns in that direction. It looks like the sort of spread Cecilia puts out. Fresh homemade yogurts, stewed fruits and seeds, and fresh handmade breads and jellies. There’s an entire selection of meats and cheeses and cut-up fruit. And then another wall of cereal and milks.

  I don’t want to eat. Something is picking at me.

  The server pours us coffee and adds cream for me. I stir and lift it to my lips, sighing. I love European coffee and cream. It’s just better. I don’t know why.

  Nat is on her phone too. She seems distracted. She sighs. “All their web page says is that they’re in the studio. There’s literally nothing.”

  “Sami said that. There’s no tour for at least another year or two.” Carson’s voice is funny. I don’t know what kind of funny, maybe tense. He avoids my eyes.

  “Are you ready to order?” the server comes and asks softly.

  “I’ll have a smoothie. Bananas, berries, fresh yogurt, and coconut milk,” I say as low as she did. It’s not on the menu but I don’t care. Sometimes being Sami Ford isn’t bad.

  “Yes, Miss Ford.”

  Carson wrinkles his nose and then nods. “I’ll have the same. Add chia to mine please. Might as well stay on track.”

  “Wow. Divas.” Nat scoffs at us both. “I’ll have the French toast and can I get some sausage on the side of that?”

  “Of course.” She scurries away from us.

  “Why do people always do that? Why do they scurry?”

  “Because you can be a heartless skank and they’re scared of you.” Carson laughs, glancing down at his napkin. “Guess I’m putting my own napkin on my lap.” He drags it across smoothly.

  “I’m not rude to anyone in service. My dad never tolerated it.” I defend myself, something I don’t usually do either. But on this one, I do.

  “It’s true. He has always said Sami and I won’t have a single maid or cook if we can’t be nice to them.”

  Carson rolls his eyes. “My dad’s shagging half of them, I think. He hires a type. It’s creepy. They all look the same. Young, brunette, busty, curvy, and short. The opposite of Mom. I think it burns her but he likes her feisty. It’s like foreplay I don’t want to think about.” He chuckles.

  “Gross.” Nat shakes her head.

  “You have to have sport in marriage, Nat. You can’t get bored because divorce is only for the weak. And we don’t have the regular battles to endure. Our lives can be extremely dull if we don’t create drama.”

  She looks at Carson like she’s asking if he’s for real but he shrugs it off.

  “You wait. You and Fairfield will have the same life. He said you guys are thinking about moving in together when he’s done school. You wait and see.” Carson lifts his coffee and winks at me.

  I force myself to snap out of the haze I’m in, nodding along. “Life for rich people is easy and hard in the exact opposite way poor people’s are.”

  “You people have a screwed way of thinking.”

  “No doubt about that.” Carson sighs and glances at his phone again.

  I just nod. I can’t argue the fact and I don’t want to discuss it.

  When we leave Vienna for France, I check my phone on the plane as we land.

  I have sixteen missed calls and over a hundred messages.

  All the calls are from Matt but I have messages from other people too. I start to get worried about all those calls but check the messages first.

  Matt has sent most of them so I got to the one from the person I don’t know.

  I click on the conversation, my jaw dropping when I see the photo. He’s in some industrial-looking shower, his face is beaten to shit like it just happened, and a girl in a costume is sucking his cock. There’s no text with it, just a photo. He’s got his hands in her hair and his eyes closed.

  My insides tighten.

  “What the ever-loving fuck?” I whisper.

  Who sent this?

  I check the number and press call, confused. I get up and walk to the bathroom as it rings. I sit on the toilet and wait.

  “Hello?” a girl answers.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” She pauses. “Who is this?”

  “Why did you send me that picture?”

  “What picture? Who are you?”

  “THE FUCKING PICTURE YOU SENT OF MATT!” Tears fill my eyes as rage overwhelms me.

  “I never sent a picture, just a sec.” She still sounds chipper. She pulls the phone back, there’s a difference in her voice as she switches me to speakerphone, “Oh shit! I don’t even know who sent that, sweetie. We were at a party last night and I wasn’t paying much attention to my phone.”

  “Did you suck his dick? Is that real?”

  “Now that’s none of your business. What happens between me and Brimstone is our business.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Tandy. Who is this?”

  “No one.” I hang up, collapsing into the wall of the bathroom to sob. My entire body heaves as I’m blinded by rage and hate and pain. With trembling hands, I turn my phone off. I don’t care what he has to say.

  My heart falls out of my chest, smashing everywhere.

  Of course this is how it ends. Of course this is my life. Of course.

  Because why not?

  I’m cursed.

  I’m worthless.

  I’m undeserving.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Bros before hos

  Matt

  January 15, 2015

  “She won’t see you, bro. She’s in Paris drinking with friends anyway.” Carson’s eyes narrow. He’s judging me and I don’t care.

  “I have to see her.” But I don’t have time. I have a game tonight and then one in two days. It’s like that for the next two months.

  “She told me she never wants to see you again. She never wants to see you or hockey or any of it again. I don’t know what you did to her, but that photo has sent her over the edge. My mom said Sami’s even told her dad he can pick someone for her to marry when she graduates. I think you were on the list but the hockey thing is killing you.”

  “She’s Sami, she won’t let him pick her husband.” I can’t believe that.

  “I don’t know. She’s also switching her major from art history to business.”

  “What?” The dull ache inside me has been going steady for the two weeks since she stopped talking to me.

  “Your side dish sent her a fucking picture of you getting a blow job after the game, dude. What did you think would happen? Of course she’s done. She’s Sami Ford. She doesn’t let guys treat her that way.”

  “Tandy didn’t send the photo. I don’t know who did.” I want to slam things and kill people and destroy worlds. I want to fly to where she is. I don’t want to board a plane for another city to play another game with someone who betrayed me. “I gotta go.” I wave at Carson and walk off, headed for home.

  I dial Bev.

  “Hey, skid mark. What’s going on?” She sounds distracted and hollow.

  “Are you playing a video game?”

  “Yeah.” It takes her a second to answer. “Why?”

  “Can you stop?”

  “How serious are we talking?”

  “Turn the game off, please.”

  “Yup.” She’s silent for a moment and then she’s back. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing. Everything. I’m fucked.” I climb in the elevator at my building and close my eyes. “She saw a picture of me and another girl.”

  “A PF?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You fucking idiot.” Bev says it quietly, like it’s worse in a low tone. It kinda is. “What were you doing?”

  “It was after the game where I got in the fight and the girl was on her knees in front of me. Sami and I weren’t dating. We still aren’t. I don’t know what we are, but she saw the photo and she won’t talk to me.”

  “Oh my God! You
are a fucking moron. If your dad saw that, you’d be disinherited. Are you that fucking stupid? Seriously? For a blow job? And then that pic goes to the one girl you’ve actually liked for years? Wow! You’re a douche and I don’t even know what to tell you.” She’s lost it now. I almost relish the lashing. I deserve every hit. “I can say you need to leave this girl the fuck alone. You’re probably killing her. She might be a dipshit rich bitch but she doesn’t deserve this. She deserves way better than you. You’re a fucker.” She hangs up on me.

  I look at my phone, lost. When I get into the hallway it rings. It’s Bev again.

  “Hey.” I assume the hang up was for effect. It worked.

  “And another thing, jerkwad, I’m telling Gran what you did.” She hangs up again.

  I enter the house, certain everyone knows everything. Benson smiles and nods at my packed bag. He doesn’t say anything. He won’t. He gave me that speech and I had my chance to come clean to Sami before she found out on her own. I blew it and now I’ve blown this.

  “I was just about to send the bag down to Charles. He’s waiting in the car out front. Have a good game.” Benson offers something resembling a smile.

  “I blew it, Benson. I ruined everything with her.”

  “I knew you would, sir. But almost anything can be cleaned up with some effort.”

  Effort.

  There’s that word again.

  Effort.

  I never have time for effort. I met her at the wrong time.

  My chest is aching. My entire body hurts as I grab the bag and head back to the elevator.

  When we get to the airport, the team is there ready to board.

  Coach gives me a look. His eyes narrow and he nods to the side of the large hallway we’re in. I don’t put my bag down with the others. I head for where he is.

  “I heard some bullshit, Brimley. I need it to be cleared up that this event didn’t happen. I don’t allow for betrayal of one’s brothers. Normally, I wouldn’t ask you to tattle on someone, but this is the worst crime ever committed in my fucking locker room—you hear me?”

  I nod, scared of what I’ve done.

  He lifts his phone, flashing the photo. I grimace and look away.

  “Did you ask someone to take this photo?” He asks the wrong question.