by Ann Aguirre
He clicked a music player into the dock, starting a song I didn’t recognize. The hook caught me right away. “Who’s this?”
“Electric President. If you like this, you’d probably enjoy Radical Face, too.”
This was a lot mellower than I associated with Max, but it was gorgeous, more suited to quiet conversation anyway. I curled up at the foot of his bed, wishing I could lie down and bury my face in his pillow. Though I probably shouldn’t admit it, I missed the smell of him on the sheets as well as his warmth at my back. He was probably glad things were back to normal.
Are you sure? Eli asked.
I ignored him. This wasn’t the time.
“So what did you want to say?” I prompted.
Max sat down, close enough that I could touch him if I shifted. “I hate admitting this, damn. But I was being childish. It hit me, like, No way, you can’t be friends with Michael because what the fuck, I found you first.”
He was right; that was stupid, juvenile and really flipping cute. But at least he had the courage to admit it. “So I have to choose a Cooper, is that what you’re saying?”
“Don’t,” he mumbled. “Right now you’d probably pick him...because he’s not here annoying you and refusing to let you sleep.”
That look, damn.
Leaning over, I ruffled his hair. “False. I’ll always pick you, no matter how much you piss me off.”
As the song changed, he let out a sigh, shoulders relaxing. “You don’t know how happy that makes me. I actually can’t sleep when you’re mad at me.”
Simultaneously moved and confused, I answered, “Now that I know, I have to fuck with you. Come home in a faux-rage and give you the silent treatment.”
Max reacted with more alarm than I expected. “Only if you want to drive me nuts.”
“Then when you ask what’s wrong, I’ll fall back on the classic ‘If you don’t know, I’m not telling you.’”
He groaned and closed his eyes briefly. “Please don’t. If you start playing games, I’ll lose my true north.”
“Huh?” Not an eloquent response, but it was late.
“True north is a fixed point, the constant that never changes. And no matter how fucked up everything else is, as long as you’re here, I can always deal.” He paused, studying his hands.
They were scrubbed clean of the mechanic grime but reflected the years he’d worked with them, rough and callused, white scars on his fingers and knuckles. A purple slash marked the back of his left hand, and I remembered what he’d said about nearly getting stabbed in an alley. Meeting him for the first time, you’d take him for a laborer.
Your dad would hate him, Eli said.
Probably.
Before I could respond, he went on. “I haven’t had a friend like you since I was...twelve, maybe. My dad got really bad then, drinking all the time. Uncle Jim was overseas, and Uncle Lou was having health problems. So it was on me to protect Mickey. I couldn’t invite people over because I never knew what mood Pop would be in, and I couldn’t leave my brother.”
“I’m sure he appreciates it.”
“No, that’s not the point I’m making here. I’m trying to say, this doesn’t come easy to me. Talking to people, making it real. You, Nadia and Angus are the only true friends I’ve made since I moved here.”
“But you know so many people.”
“Their names, sure. But they don’t have any idea who I am.” Sighing, he tilted his head against the wall. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know how important you are to me.”
When he came across all sweet and earnest like this, I couldn’t hang on to hurt or aggravation. It wasn’t his fault that I didn’t attract him in the romantic sense. He’d never intentionally raised my expectations. Mentally I made peace with the idea of being Max’s bro.
The heart wants what it wants, Eli said.
Were you always this annoying and unhelpful?
Hey, I’m watching my girlfriend fall for another guy. Cut me some slack.
That sounded so much like Eli that I snickered. Max’s head jerked up, eyes wounded. Shit. He just said something deep and touching. Meanwhile you’re chortling.
“You’re special to me, too,” I said, playing off the laugh. “But there’s no need to go all scary-serious when you tell me. I’ll get you the BFFs Forever necklace for your birthday.”
He feigned enthusiasm, opening his eyes so wide it was creepy. “You promise? The one that says Friends on one half and Forever on the other?”
“You think I’m joking, but just wait.”
“I’ll cry if you disappoint me, Kaufman.”
“Never. Do you prefer gold or silver?”
“I take it platinum’s off the table.”
“Sorry, I’m on a budget here. To buy you expensive jewelry, I’d have to get a job, and I don’t plan to do that until absolutely necessary.”
“Such a princess,” he scoffed.
“Time for me to flounce away with my scepter and tiara. G’night.”
For a few seconds, it looked like he had something to say, as if he might stop me. But in the end, he opened the door for me, then shut it with a quiet click. Angus was just coming home, and it seemed like a dick move to disappear without letting him dish about Del, so I got a drink and sat on the couch with him for half an hour, listening. Just past one, Kia came in, looking exhausted. She stumbled past with a wave and headed straight to bed.
When Angus paused for breath, I teased, “So I get the idea that Del is okay and you kinda like him.”
He nudged me with his foot. “Brat. I’m ready for him to meet the family.”
“Whoa, big step. Good luck.”
You could use some, too, Eli pointed out.
There was no arguing with a ghost, especially when he was right.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Three weeks later, I sat in The Pour House on Friday afternoon, waiting for my first Max-driven fix-up. I was wearing a red beanie so the guy could identify me since saying “I’ll be the girl in the black shirt” wasn’t enough to separate me from the pack. I had juice and a muffin in front of me, but I didn’t want to take a bite because as soon as I did, the lucky guy would arrive to find me with my mouth full of pastry.
I drummed my fingers nervously, until someone cast a shadow over the table. Glancing up, I registered a tallish guy, lanky, blond with a blue streak in his hair. Otherwise, he wasn’t particularly memorable. I lifted my hand in a half wave.
“Jared?”
“You must be Courtney.”
I nodded. “You must be wondering why you agreed to this.”
“Max said you’re a cool girl. I’ll get a coffee and be right back.” His response was lukewarm, though, and I could practically hear him inventing reasons to leave.
By the time he came back, I’d eaten half of my muffin but at least I wasn’t chewing. “What did you get?”
“Double espresso.” He sat down, thinly veiled contempt skating over his face as he registered that I actually ate food.
“So how do you know Max?”
“We have a couple of classes together.”
Before I could reply, his phone rang. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
I made a go-ahead gesture, but he lost points by doing it. While I listened to his half of the conversation, I sipped my juice. At first it was mostly monosyllabic, but then he glanced at me and said, “Nothing much. Yeah, that should be fine.”
Nice.
A pause. “I know, right? Yeah, Mariah Carey looks amazing lately. I’m so glad she lost weight. It’s disgusting when women let themselves go.” His gaze met mine, flickered away, as if he wasn’t talking to me.
Yeah, completely unrelated.
That was enough for me. I stood up, took my stuff and strode out. He wasn’t worth the ten seconds it would take me to tell him to fuck off. Indignation carried me out of the student center and halfway across campus. But once I got that far, I realized I only had a bus ride ahead of me, plus the exciting job of
breaking the news to Max that the meet had been worse than a dead loss. I could put off the inevitable by finding something else to do tonight, though.
I could go to the mall, maybe see a movie.
As I debated, a girl nearly barreled into me, either late for something or running for her life. I glanced past her to make sure it was nothing I needed to worry about and didn’t see anybody chasing her. In stepping back, I bumped into the bulletin board behind me. The craptastic nature of the day came full circle when I snagged my shirt on a tack; I wriggled until my shirt tore free, then I spun, thinking about kicking the posts. A purple flyer caught my eye, hand-drawn with an abstract band logo for Racing Sorrow; I’d never heard of them, but that wasn’t surprising. There were, like, a hundred garage bands rattling around campus.
The poster read SEEKING NEW KEYBOARDIST, AUDITIONS FRIDAY, along with a number to call. Several of the tags had already been ripped away. I took piano lessons for eight years, but this definitely was not what my mother had in mind when she’d said music would round me out. Back then, she was still trying to lure me away from the “indie influence.” These days, she was satisfied if I was clearheaded and not drowning myself in chemical bliss.
Are you thinking about it? Eli asked.
Maybe.
It’s not a terrible idea. You’ve been going through the motions for a while, C.
Dammit. Eli was right again. I needed something that was just for me. School definitely wasn’t, and it depressed me to think about hanging out at the apartment taking out my dissatisfaction on Max. He wouldn’t relent on finding me the perfect date if I didn’t find something to do with my time. Auditioning for a band sounded more up my alley than a part-time job.
Shrugging, I got out my phone and dialed. This didn’t have a date on it; maybe I’d missed the window of opportunity. But the phone was already ringing, so no harm in checking.
“Yeah?” A deep, impatient voice answered.
“I was wondering if the keyboard auditions are still going on.”
“We’re wrapping up. If you can be here in under an hour, we’ll give you a listen.”
“Where’s ‘here’ exactly?”
He named a bar three blocks from campus, one that occasionally had live music. I knew there was a piano, but on Friday night, there would probably be a crowd. A prickle of anxiety wormed to the surface, spiced liberally with excitement. It had been so long since I’d tried for anything of my own.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Later.” The guy disconnected and I took off speed-walking.
I’d been here before, so I made it in ten minutes. For a few seconds, I stared at the front of the building, finished to seem more rustic than it was. Then I rushed inside, wondering how I’d know who I was looking for. I should’ve thought this through more. It was early enough that there weren’t many people here, thank God. I’d only fiddled on the piano when I was home this summer, and I’d stopped the lessons when Eli died.
A brown-haired girl in an apron tapped my shoulder. “I bet you’re looking for the idiots in back.” The smile belied her words.
“Thanks.”
My nerves clattered like a broken strand of beads. I took a deep breath and headed toward the piano in back. Three people were sitting at a square table nearby with enough glasses to suggest they’d been here awhile and didn’t tip well enough to merit frequent bussing. Various bags, papers and sheet music loaded down the vacant chair. They hadn’t noticed me yet, so I scoped them out: girl with pink hair cut in a bob, guy with skull cut and a nose ring, a thin Korean-American dude with shaggy blond hair caught up in topknot.
“Hey,” I said, before they could notice me staring. “I think you’re waiting for me?”
“Oh, hey.” The girl hopped up to clear the chair for me. “I’m Dana. I bet Ji Hoo that it was another prank call.”
“I should’ve taken your money,” the blond guy said.
He must be Ji Hoo.
“I’m Evan.” The guy radiated a thuggish vibe between the hair and his tattoos on his forearms. He had on an ouroboros ring that wrapped halfway to the knuckle of his middle finger. By the look of his hands, he was also the guitarist.
“Courtney.”
Dana waved at the seat. “Go ahead, I’ll tell you a little about the group before you play. If you don’t like what you hear, it’ll save you the trouble.”
“You want a beer?” Ji Hoo asked.
When I nodded, Evan stood to get one from the bar. He was shorter than I’d have guessed from the width of his shoulders. He rapped on the counter, his voice a deep baritone rumble as he ordered my drink. I swung my gaze back to Dana, who was talking about Racing Sorrow.
“Ji Hoo and I are both majoring in music,” she was saying.
“Whereas I’m between academic engagements,” Evan added. “I was, but I lost faith in the system.”
“You were just too lazy to go to class,” Dana said.
Ji Hoo tapped out an impatient rhythm against the table. Betting he’s the drummer. “Do you plan to tell her about our sound at any point?”
That means Dana probably plays bass.
“I’m on it. Basically we play a 50/50 mix of original music and covers. Mumford and Sons, The Lumineers, Of Monsters and Men, Imagine Dragons—”
“I think she gets the idea,” Evan cut in. “Can you sing?”
“Not well enough to front a group, but I can harmonize.”
“Alto or soprano?” Dana asked.
Ji Hoo nudged her. “Five bucks says alto.”
“You win.” I told him.
Dana seemed pleased, at least. “Nice. I’m mezzo soprano. Ji Hoo is tenor and Evan brings the bass-baritone.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Evan said. “Back to basics for a minute. We’re folk rock-indie, harder than Mumford. If that sounds like your thing, go play a song.”
It took me a few seconds to realize they were all staring expectantly, waiting for me to respond. I bent down to check the sheet music and picked out “Ho Hey” by The Lumineers. Maybe this was a stupid idea since I’d never performed, not even a piano recital when I was eight. But at worst, I’d embarrass myself in front of the ten people currently in the bar.
Sitting down, I pretended I was home, playing in our dining room. The tinge of nerves faded when I imagined Eli sitting beside me. I delivered a simple, wistful version of the song devoid of showy flourishes. Lifting my head, I took a breath and faced my three judges.
“Can you sight-read?” Dana asked.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Then here.” She brought me another song, probably meant to test my ability.
I’d never played “Radioactive” before but after skimming the notes, I gave it my best shot. Afterward, I carried the sheet music back to the table. “So...did I make the A-list?”
To my surprise, Dana laughed. “Dude, you are the list. We only got four calls total and two of those were no-shows.”
Ji Hoo nodded. “Competition is fierce. You won’t get rich playing with us.”
“Which brings me to my next point,” Evan interjected. “Whatever we get for a gig, we split four ways. So far, we’ve played a few shows in Ann Arbor, some frat parties here in town.”
“But then Stella dropped out,” Dana said. “And we really need someone in her place.”
That was pretty candid, but... “Do you need for me to take a walk, so you can talk amongst yourselves?”
They exchanged a look, then Evan said, “Nope. Show of hands, all in favor of Courtney joining up?”
All three arms went up.
Dana beamed. “We rehearse Wednesday and Saturday nights in Evan’s garage. He lives in an actual house.” Her mock awe made me laugh.
“It’s not like it’s mine,” he muttered. “I’m just house-sitting while my uncle’s in the UK.”
“Still, it beats the dorm,” Ji Hoo pointed out.
Nodding, I said, “Agreed. I moved off campus this year
, and it’s awesome.”
I have a good feeling about this, Eli said.
Me, too.
“Okay, so we’re rehearsing tomorrow night?” It seemed like a good idea to confirm.
Evan held out a hand. He was smiling now, and the shift softened his demeanor from thuggish to slightly ferocious. I noticed he had nice eyes, somewhere between green and hazel, and his brows would do credit to an angry Cossack. With a minor jolt, I realized he was still offering his palm.
“High five? You want me to cross your palm with silver? Tell your fortune? Blink once if I get close.”
He laughed. “I need your phone, funny girl.”
“Right.”
Evan took it and input his contact information, then I texted him. He passed along my info and it was weird but cool to have Dana and Ji Hoo checking their phones at the same time—because of me. I’d never been fantastic at making new friends. Of the two of us, Eli had been the extrovert, always collecting people. At any point, I could’ve left since our business was concluded, but I finished my beer while they talked about places we might be able to play.
Before I put my phone away, I saw I had a text from Max. With a frisson of determination, I put it away unread. I can’t be passive anymore. I can’t build my whole life around one person. I have to live. The realization stung, but it felt...true.
Dana stood up. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starving.”
“Burgers?” Ji Hoo suggested a place five blocks away.
“Sounds good.” I hadn’t eaten lunch in my haste to meet that asshole, Jared.
“I’ll walk with you and leave my car here,” Evan said. “Do you have a ride home?”
Dana smacked him on the arm. “It’s too soon to lure her into your car, bro.”
A chuckle escaped me. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah, he’s harmless. But if you do need a ride, I’ll come along. Evan will bring me back to campus afterward.”
“Oh, will I?” Evan quirked a brow.
She patted him like a spaniel. “Don’t argue. You know I’m the brains of this outfit.”
“And I’m the stomach.” Ji Hoo was already headed out. “Are you coming or what?”