She laughed and reached down to take the guards off the blades of her skates. “Dad said he was limping when I talked to him yesterday. It sounds like you gave as good as you got. I’m going to get back on the ice. I’d tell you that I’ll try to make time to see you before you leave, but that isn’t true. I’m too busy. But I will call Bowe and wish her luck on her performance. When is it again?”
I rolled my eyes and let her use my forearm for balance as she tossed the guards aside and glided toward the opening to the rink. “It’s tonight.”
“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “Then, I guess I’ll call her tomorrow and ask her how it all went.” Glory turned and gave me a tight hug before stepping onto the ice. “Take care of yourself, Ry. Or better yet, find someone who will take care of you. You deserve it.”
As soon as I let her go, she glided away like some kind of ethereal creature not of this world. I watched her whip around the rink for a few minutes before I headed back into the Texas sun. I sent Bowe a text asking her if she wanted me to pick up anything to eat on my way back to her place. She messaged back that she was at practice one last time before the show tonight. She reminded me that I was on the guest list, so I didn’t need a ticket to get in. I asked her if she wanted me to show up early to help haul her gear in, and she said the guys in the band would handle it.
With nothing to do for several hours, I drove around in a daze, trying to put the pieces of the word puzzle Glory dropped on me together.
She wasn’t wrong that me and Aston becoming a couple had happened out of the blue. It wasn’t like there was a build-up of feelings that neither of us could deny over a long period. Since her brother and I were friends, and she was always hanging around Daire, she was always just there. I couldn’t remember when I started to notice her as something more than a cute kid. It was more like, after things blew up between me and Bowe, and she left me behind without a backward glance, I realized I needed to be with someone the exact opposite of her. Someone calm. Someone rational. Someone who didn’t make me feel like I was going crazy when I was with her, and even crazier when I was without her. Being with Aston was easy, and I was just now understanding why that might be more of a problem than I ever imagined.
I went back to Bowe’s house and showered and changed. I wasn’t sure I had the kind of wardrobe one wore to an indie rock show, even when I had access to all my clothing. It seemed even less likely I would blend in with the crowd when I was working with limited options. Nonetheless, I did my best to make sure I looked good and wouldn’t embarrass Bowe, since she was the one who put my name on the list. That little consideration felt like a pretty big deal for some reason. Rarely did I have to work at making sure I was presentable. My face did all the work for me. But this situation seemed more important than just one old friend going to support another.
I wouldn’t be able to explain exactly why if I was asked, though.
The parking lot was packed when I arrived at the venue. Bowe told me more places were showcasing live music in Austin than almost any other city in the US. According to her, this was a midsized space that catered to more of an all-ages crowd rather than wild nightlife seekers. It made sense since Bowe and the keyboardist were both barely in their twenties. I wasn’t sure how it worked when you were underage but were part of a band that played in bars and nightclubs. I doubted that a technicality was something that slowed Bowe down. She wasn’t the type who let rules dictate what she was and wasn’t allowed to do, or where she was allowed to chase her dreams, before now.
There was a line of what looked like mostly college kids around my age already gathered in the front of the single-story brick building. They were filtering through a set of metal doors that looked like they were designed to come off an old barn as two very tattooed, burly-looking older men scanned their phones and checked IDs.
I wandered around until I found another door on the backside of the building in an alley that the bands and staff used. Bowe told me there would be someone there with the friends and family list that would let me in the venue, so I didn’t have to wait in the line out front.
I had to wait behind a group of giggling girls and a couple of biker-looking dudes before it was my turn to give my name and be ushered inside. There was already loud music playing and the sound of excited voices banging against one another. It was dark as I navigated the back hallway to the open floor space where a crowd started gathering. I kept an eye out for Bowe’s dad because I planned on saying hi if we bumped into one another. My mom texted more than once, reminding me I should stop by and see Bowe’s parents before I headed home. I wanted to see them; it just felt a little weird since they knew I was staying with Bowe at her new place. Or maybe I was the one making it weird since my intentions toward their oldest daughter hadn’t always been exactly pure and innocent.
I didn’t see Jet anywhere as I found a spot near a wall with a good view of the smallish stage. There was a high cocktail table I could lean on. Even if Jet was here, he was probably keeping a low profile. He wasn’t as famous as he was back when he was my age, but he was still really well-known, especially in the local music scene. There was no way he would want to steal Bowe’s thunder or make her even more anxious than she already was. I’d have to wait until after the show was over to find him, or for him to come and find me.
I declined the company of a couple of co-eds and had an awkward conversation with a middle-aged man in a Longhorns t-shirt who was positive he recognized me. He asked if I played football for a local college and looked disappointed when I told him I didn’t. I could see he was gearing up for a full-on sports conversation, but fortunately, the dim lights lowered as Bowe and the rest of the band made their way on stage.
The man moved away and merged with the rest of the crowd as Bowe and Nyle stepped up to the waiting microphones. Bowe looked great. Her black and purple hair fell down past her shoulders in a very sleek style. She had on a pair of very short camo-print shorts over torn fishnets. Those boots that laced up to her knees were back, and I thought it was kind of adorable in a very Bowe-type way that she was wearing a distressed tank top with her dad’s band logo on it. The shirt was tied up at her waist and hung off one shoulder, showing not only her pretty golden skin, but also a decent amount of the black, studded bra she had on underneath. It wasn’t a look I would ever find sexy on anyone else, but on her, it all worked, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
She smiled at the gathered crowd as she situated her guitar. I could tell she was nervous by how tightly she held onto the neck of the instrument. She breathed into the microphone in front of her, and the sound filled the room. She laughed a little, and it was so infectious and cute, it had the entire crowd laughing along.
“Hi, everyone. Thanks for coming out tonight to hear us play. Everyone in the band is a big fan of Cathouse Hotel. We were seriously honored when they asked us to open for them. It’s going to be such a good show. We’re Wayward Victory, and we’re excited to play a few songs for you.”
“You’re so hot!” The compliment was screamed by someone in the audience, and a round of catcalls went up in agreement.
Bowe didn’t lose her smile, but her knuckles turned so white I could see them even with the distance between us.
Instead of responding, she looked over her shoulder to the drummer, who immediately counted them down. A moment later, one of the songs they’d played for me in the rehearsal space filled the venue. It definitely sounded better tonight and had all the heads around me bobbing along. A few dudes who looked like they belonged to a frat, who were clearly only here for the headliners, kept shouting rude comments toward Bowe, but otherwise, everyone else seemed to be really enjoying their set. Bowe visibly relaxed by the end of the second song and started to find her vibe. She looked right at home up on the stage, and by the end of their set, she had every single person in that venue eating out of her talented hand. A girl from somewhere toward the front of the stage screamed, “Will you marry me?!”
&nbs
p; Bowe finally flashed a real smile as she replied she would think about it. She thanked the crowd and the headlining band again, and I saw her eyes scan the crowd. I had no clue if she was looking for me or her dad, but when our eyes met, she cocked her head a little, and her smile turned into something that looked more like a smirk, indicating she saw me.
I was proud of her. It was fun to see her getting a chance to live out her dreams. But, if she asked me, I would tell her the same thing I did when I listened to the band rehearse. She was better than the other three combined. She stole the show. All eyes were on her, and not just because she was the lead singer. She was mesmerizing. Her voice was light and airy, but with enough of a growl to make it unique. It was obvious the other three people on stage with her were just there to back her up. She carried every single song, and I still thought they would all sound better if she played them by herself.
I started to make my way through the crowd, which had doubled in size for the headlining act. I was trying to make my way backstage so I could talk to Bowe before the other band started playing. I was sure she was going to want to stay and watch them, but I was ready to call it a night. I was still reeling from my conversation with Glory earlier, and I told myself I was going home after I watched Bowe play. There was a lot on my mind, and I wasn’t up for the crush of people and the noise of the crowd anymore.
I never made it backstage.
Just as I was about to reach the hallway hidden behind a heavy red velvet curtain that was now being guarded by a bouncer, Bowe’s head popped out between the part in the fabric. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She tapped the bouncer on the shoulder and said something, and he waved me back without a second glance. Before I could ask her what she was doing or congratulate her, she locked her fingers around my wrist and practically dragged me out the side door I’d entered.
“Where did you park?” She nearly growled the question at me and noticed she seemed to be shaking a little where she was holding me.
“Uh…a couple blocks over in a paid lot. Why?” I tugged on my hand, but she didn’t let go. “What’s the rush? Shouldn’t you wait to see your dad? He’s going to want to tell you that you did great tonight.”
She didn’t even turn her head. “I want you to take me home.”
I frowned and tugged even harder on my wrist. “I can do that, but do you want to tell me why? I thought for sure you’d stick around for the other band.”
“I just… need to get out of here, especially before I run into my dad. I need something to distract me before I lose my mind.” She finally looked at me, her long hair sliding sensuously across her shoulders and arms. “I want you to take me home so we can have sex. I think that’s literally the only thing that will make me forget what happened on that stage right now.”
I jerked to a stop and pulled my arm hard enough that she had no choice but to whip around and look at me. My heart was in my throat at her words, and there was a rush of blood out of my brain that went right to my dick at the images and memories her declaration brought to mind.
“You were mad at me a few days ago because I kissed you. Now, you want to sleep together? You gotta make it make sense, Bowe.” I wanted so badly to take her up on her offer, but I had a feeling that if I did, she’d start to hate me all over again once she came back to her senses. I didn’t want to lose the minimal progress I’d made with her since showing up unannounced.
She lifted a hand like she was going to touch my face, but let it drop at the last second. She dropped my arm like my skin was suddenly covered in thorns. “If you don’t want to do it, I can find someone else who will. It’s not that hard to catch a willing dick, Ry.”
I could tell by the set of her jaw and glint in her eyes, she was serious. I didn’t know what went wrong, but I did know she was stubborn and reckless enough to get into trouble when she was this worked up.
And the reality was, the idea of her picking up some strange man and doing God knows what with him just because she was upset made my blood hot and my skin prickle.
So really, there was only one option.
“Fine. Let’s have sex. But you have to tell me why on the ride home, and you aren’t allowed to freeze me out again afterward.” I bent down so we were eye to eye. “Promise me, Bowe. You aren’t allowed to try and forget about me anymore if we do this.” That had hurt worse than knowing she hated me, because at least if she hated me, she was still thinking about me.
Slowly, she nodded. This time she reached for my hand and held it like we were heading somewhere together instead of one pulling the other along behind them.
Unlike that kiss the other night, this didn’t feel as much like getting blasted back to the past as it felt like being launched into the future. The kind of future I never dared to imagine because it seemed both impossible and ridiculous. The future I screwed up before I even got a chance to start it because I was scared out of my mind about how deeply and intensely this girl made me care about her from the start.
It was shocking how this felt like something totally new and untouched by everything that had come before it.
It felt like a chance to start over and right all the wrongs we’d stumbled through together.
Bowe
I WAS SO disappointed.
My first real gig. My first real band. The first time on an actual stage, singing songs I wrote and breathed life into. The first time performing in front of my father as an actual musician… and none of it had lived up to my outrageous expectations.
It felt like I finally caught the only dream I’d ever chased since I was young, only to have it evaporate as soon as I touched it.
It wasn’t the crowd or how the band performed. It wasn’t the way we sounded or the response to the song we pounded our way through.
What killed me, what made me feel like I couldn’t breathe, and made me stumble more than once through the lyrics and chords, was exactly what Ry accused me of. My songs didn’t sound right. The meaning behind them seemed like it got totally lost as the rest of the band played them. Like someone else was speaking for me and trying to tell my story. I felt like a fraud. I felt like a coward. And I felt totally empty and hollowed out inside because everything I ever wanted was right at my fingertips, but I knew deep down in my gut there was no way I was going to be able to reach for it.
I sighed and leaned my head against the passenger window of Ry’s truck. I tilted the AC vent so that cool air was blasting directly in my face and eyes. I was hoping the shot of moving air was strong enough to keep the tears I felt threatening at bay.
“I told you I was a musician, that it’s who I am, and playing music is not simply what I do, but I think I lied to you. I might not know anything more about myself than you do, Archer.” Because if I were a real musician, I would’ve recognized long before he pointed it out to me that the only reason I felt like I needed to be part of a band, the only reason I was letting someone else play my songs incorrectly, was that I was trying to follow in my father’s footsteps exactly. It wasn’t my dream I was running down with everything I had in me… it was his.
Ry was quiet for a long time. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to figure out a way to comfort me or if he was scheming a way to go back on his promise to take me home and sleep with me.
Immediately after stepping off the stage, even amidst the congratulations and palpable excitement from the people around me, I was nearly suffocated by my crushing disappointment and disillusionment. I hated knowing I’d made such a big mistake. Even more so because I’d made it in front of the only two people I never wanted to see me falter. All I could think about was finding something, anything that would distract me from the soul-stripping defeat filling my heart. I couldn’t even look at the rest of my band, and I was too embarrassed to stick around and watch real performers, ones who knew what they were doing. I knew the only thing that would take me out of my own head and the spiral of shame I was diving into was something else just as exhilarating as standing under the lights in
front of a microphone.
I told Ry I would sleep with the first guy who gave me the go-ahead if he turned me down, but I was bluffing.
He was the only one who had ever been able to wind me up to the point where I couldn’t feel or think about anything else but him. He was the only one who invaded my mind and made my body react against my better judgment.
He was the only one who forced me to focus on something other than my desire to make music. When he touched me, when he kissed me, when his body was moving over and under mine, it wasn’t song lyrics and beautiful melodies that flooded my brain and made my blood sing.
It was him.
It always had been.
“All those small gigs you played leading up to this one, all the time you spent practicing, all the emotional investment you put into getting to this point, those are things musicians do, Bowe. It’s not just getting on stage. It’s not just playing the instrument and writing the songs. It’s everything that gets you to the point where you’ve earned your spot on the stage. It’s no different than being an athlete. It’s not just playing the game or winning. It’s everything that gets you on the field. Once you’re there, you might win, you might lose, but either way, you put in the work to get there, and that shouldn’t ever be discounted. Losing one game doesn’t make you any less of an athlete.”
Surprisingly, his analogy made me feel slightly better. I sighed again and tilted my head to look at his profile. It was just as perfect as the rest of him, minus a slight bump in the bridge of his nose. I knew he’d broken it when he was younger, and not even on the football field. He’d gotten into a fight defending Daire and got sucker-punched. There was a muscle twitching in his cheek that let me know he was conflicted about agreeing to my proposition. I couldn’t blame him. The last time we hooked up, I disappeared on him and ignored him for years. I was protecting myself. I was giving my heart time to heal from the beating it took because of him. I had no idea the distance bothered him to the extent it did.
Fortunate Son Page 10