by Chris Myers
When she sees me, her face pales. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She turns to leave. Her left hand clutches onto an object she’s trying to hide from us.
“You know this bird?” Clive asks me.
I chuckle. “Yeah, she gave me a beer bath last night.”
“That sounds kinky. I already like her.” Clive’s gaze wanders all over her as if she’s a tootsie roll pop that he’s about to cheat on by biting into its chewy center. “You can’t just leave after enticing us with leather.”
Jinx cowers and trembles hard, like she did when she threw me out. She’s skittish like a spooked horse. One fist still tightly grips a black cylinder.
I scoot my chair to face her. “Let’s see what you got, Jinx.”
She forces a smile, though I know it’s killing her, and sits down at her keyboard. It dawns on me what she’s concealing from us in her hand. I get up and walk over to her. She’s shaking harder now. I place my hand on hers that’s holding the pepper spray. I had a bad reaction to the spray once. Some girl used it on another guy at a club, and I happened to be in the way. My face blew up to the size of a watermelon.
Her soft, delicate hand trembles in mine. I’d like to hold it longer.
“No one here is going to hurt you,” I say in a low voice.
I step away as Jinx slowly puts the spray in her bag and powers up her keyboard. The melody that comes out is haunting, bleak, way cool. Her mouth opens and she sings with a voice that spells erotica. It’s nothing like choir singing.
The whole band lets her finish. No one even interrupts or corrects her, which we all normally do. It’s how we establish our pecking order.
“Who wrote that?” Danny Boy asks, equally amazed from his expression.
“I did,” she says with her chin pressed against her chest so that I barely hear her.
Danny Boy hands her sheet music from one of our standard songs. She takes it and blankly stares at it.
“She doesn’t read music,” Clive says. “Sorry, doll baby. We need someone to—”
“Do you play by ear?” I ask, still fantasizing about her tiny feet, not that she’ll ever let me near them.
She nods. “I need the money. You do make money at this?”
We all laugh.
“If you want the dead presidents, you’re better off dating our fearless leader,” Danny says, chuckling. “I have a second job, so what does that tell you?”
“We would make more money if Lennon would get off his bum and get us a real gig.” Clive nudges me. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s the girls I’m after.”
Jinx grimaces. She’s still standing there like a popsicle.
“We have a good job this weekend,” I say.
“That’s good to know.” Her voice is even a little shaky. “So can I join you guys?”
Clive waggles his eyebrows at her. “You can’t be the first, but you could be the next.”
“Not in this lifetime,” Jinx shoots back.
“Nice, a bird with a bite.” Clive picks up his bass. “You have nothing to worry about. You’ve said no. I’ll be a good boy and move on.” That’s definitely not Clive. He likes a challenge.
Jinx takes a step back from him. Strange. She is obviously afraid of us. To my knowledge, we’re not terrifying. Most girls like us. Oh, I forgot. I’m talking about Jinx, a girl searching for that perfect guy, who only exists in her dreams. I’m no prince, so I have no shot with her. Why did I give her roses?
I swagger over to the keyboard and knock out the notes of a song we wrote. “Play that back.”
After I step aside, Jinx rips through the number and adds a few more keys to give it an edgier tone.
She is talented. Maybe she won’t think I’m a pig if she sees me as a professional and I get us better jobs.
“She’s pretty good,” Danny Boy says. “What else can you play, Sugar Lips?”
She grits her teeth. “The guitar, a little bit of the banjo.”
I can tell the sexism grates on her and wonder how long she’ll last. The guys can smell fear and pounce on it like lions stalking a gazelle. It’s only a game for them, but it can be intimidating to a scared bunny like Jinx.
I hand her my custom made twelve-string Taylor that cost me fifteen grand. “Play us something.”
She stares at it in awe. Holding it like it could break, she sits on a stool and rips out a lick. It’s another unknown with sweet, sassy, and sexy lyrics. They’re a bit too literal for me, and the song is almost pop country.
I don’t get her. All that spark without a flame.
“No country for us.” Danny Boy makes the sign of an “X” in front of him.
“I like it.” I take back the guitar and add a few riffs of my own and several slides. My fingers are strong, so it’s easy for me.
“Ditto.” Clive picks his bass and thwacks out several harsh notes that give the song a bluesy twist.
Danny Boy twirls his drumsticks and taps out a beat for us. Pretty soon we’re wrapping around her song like it’s our own. Jinx takes up at the keyboard.
“I’d like a real piano on this,” I say.
“I think you’re right,” Clive adds.
Danny Boy grins. He’s probably happy that I’m onboard for once, since I rarely show enthusiasm.
I have to admit the girl can play and sing. What else can she do with those delicate fingers? God, I’d like to find out.
“Am I in?” Jinx asks.
I pull the guys aside, not that it’s necessary. We’ve been together long enough to read each other’s thoughts. It’s for effect and to make her squirm. In those tight leather pants, it’ll be hard to do.
“Jinx is good,” Danny Boy says.
“She’s hot,” Clive says. “How long before I get into her panties? I’m guessing thongs. She looks like a thong girl.”
“She’s definitely a floss girl,” Danny Boy says.
I’m thinking granny panties. I suppress bursting out with laughter because I want to see their expressions when she cuts their dicks off.
I give Clive a playful shove. “I thought you told her no means no.”
“She’ll come begging later. You know how it works. They can’t play hard to get for too long.”
Jinx’s leg shakes as she watches us. She looks nervous, and she should be. Clive and Danny will eat her alive.
Clive glances back at her. “Are you sure it was her that dumped a beer on you? She looks like she does it standing up.”
“Trust me,” I say. “She doesn’t.”
We break our huddle.
Since I’m the lead, I give her the news. “You have to learn to read music.”
Jinx sighs as if I’ve asked her to give birth to a baby hippo. “I don’t have the money.”
“Show up a half hour early every day, and we’ll take turns teaching you.” I’m studying her harder now. A girl would be good in our band. Sex sells, and her outfit says she’d spread her legs. Looks can be deceiving.
“Are you sure?” Her voice is full of angst.
“Yeah. Now about that beer.” The chill of the night air at her party lingers fresh in my mind. I fold my arms across my chest.
The guys leer at her to add to the overall effect, knowing full well I’m going in for the kill, but I won’t. I’d rather see her bust Clive’s balls when he hits on her again. Danny will give her a hard time, but only when Susan isn’t around. He’s still one of us, except when he’s being squeezed hard between the legs. Clive’s right. Danny is a whipped boy.
“You were in my dad’s room,” she says.
I wince at the mention of that. I don’t like it when people get into my business, and I intruded into her private space.
“You were acting like a pig,” she tries to explain but realizes she’s digging a deeper hole with the guys. “It won’t happen again.”
Nothing like handing someone the shovel for her own grave. “We cut loose,” I say. “You don’t have to participate, but you do have to learn toleran
ce. It’s the key to world peace.”
Jinx cringes then nods.
Clive cracks open another beer. “Cheer up. It’s not the end of the world.” He hands it to her.
She shakes her head and pushes it back to him, so she’s not a beer drinker. I can live with that.
“We don’t bite,” Clive says, brushing against her. “Unless you want us to, so relax.”
Danny does a drum roll. “Let’s practice before we leave for the recital. I have to pick up Susan.”
Danny’s been dating her for over two years. He’s the only one in our group that manages to sleep with one girl at a time. I haven’t figured out why.
Jinx looks at each of us. “Recital?”
“Clive has to see his girlfriend.” Danny Boy tosses a drumstick that Clive catches.
“It’s mandatory for us to go to Currie’s performances,” Clive says.
I sip on my beer. “You don’t have to go.”
“Who’s Currie?” she asks.
“Lennon’s sister,” Danny Boy says. “Don’t you go to school with him?”
Jinx is silent for a moment. “Are we going to practice? When’s our first gig?”
Clive holds his bass and picks on it. “We’re regulars at Kichee’s Joint on the weekend.”
She crinkles her nose. “There?”
“We get six hundred a night plus the door,” Clive says.
“That’s it?” She wears her disappointment, which makes me feel ashamed.
Danny sits down on his stool and twirls his drumstick. “We have a wedding this weekend. That’s thirty-five hundred.”
When she perks up, Clive stares hard at her chest.
“That sounds good,” she says.
“You won’t say that when you see our set list.” I hand it to her. There are over a hundred titles for just the clubs, and that doesn’t include the wedding music. “We play some originals at the clubs. Otherwise we’re a cover band.”
“Oh.” Her tone swings the other way.
“Memorize these before the weekend.” Friday’s only two days away. “You get a percentage on what you can play.”
Her face droops as she scans the list. “I do?”
“It’ll give you incentive,” I say.
I pluck out a few chords to play one of our standard love ballads for the wedding gig. The guys slide in. It takes Jinx a moment to catch up. She understands chord progression, so she can fake her way through it and several other songs. After that, she’ll have to learn the music. We’ll see how that goes.
“Can you sing harmony?” I ask, even though she sings alto in the choir, which is almost always the harmony part.
The frightened kitty look washes across her face. “With you? I’ll try.”
I’m amazed at her lack of confidence when she can belt out ballads in choir.
When we practice, I face the band, so we can critique each other. Makeup covers the bruise yellowing her cheekbone. Like her friends, I wonder if she torqued off some guy at the party. I want to know. My mind plots on how to weasel it out of her.
After we play a set, I say, “Who wants to come in early tomorrow to help Jinx?”
“I have to take Susan to work.”
“Clive?”
“Your idea, so you go first.”
“Be here at four tomorrow.” I pack up my Taylor. If the other guitars get stolen, I wouldn’t care, but this one’s my baby.
The other guys nod their goodbyes while Jinx stores her keyboard into its cover.
“We’ll get a new keyboard before this weekend.” Usually a call to the music store will do the trick. I’m a good client.
Before she picks up her keyboard to carry it outside, I grab it and my guitar. She walks with me to her car. Rust pockmarks the edges of her beat-up ride. The paint is so faded it’s peeling off the roof and hood.
“Pop the trunk,” I say.
She does, and I place the keyboard inside. There’s an open gym bag stuffed with clothes and toiletries. I do this, too, for practical reasons, like in case I’m too wasted to drive home and have to sober up in some strange girl’s bed. I get the impression her reasons are different from mine.
I accidentally brush up against her. She jerks away.
“Hey, I’m not going to take advantage of you,” I say.
“I’m sure you’d like to try.” From the intensity in her words, I’m pretty sure she hates me, and I don’t like it.
“I’ve never forced any girl. If anything, it’s the other way around.”
Jinx spins toward me. All five-two of her in a twisted rage. I try not to laugh.
“You’ve done girls too drunk to remember,” she says.
“Nope. Never. Besides, where’s the fun in that?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t even take advantage of the completely blitzed Iz and Gabby the other night.” Not that I didn’t consider it.
“They did not hit on you.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. You have nothing to worry about. I’d never touch them or you.”
Her tiny fists knuckle against her small hips. “Why, I’m not good enough?”
Ah, she is interested. “Of course not. Little girls like you are great fun for a big guy like me.” Now I’ve done it.
Her face lights up like the aurora borealis. Flames shoot everywhere. “Keep your distance, or I’ll find another drink to throw on you.”
I shake like a wet dog. “I’m scared. It’s not the first time a girl has dumped a drink on me, and it probably won’t be the last.”
“You’re a pig.”
“Thank you.” For some reason, it bugs me that she thinks I’m one, but she’ll never know that. Currie’s normally right when it comes to working with people, but my lips can’t seem to form I’m sorry again. It was hard enough to say it the first time, and Jinx certainly doesn’t make it easy. She hasn’t mentioned the roses, and she’s had plenty of time.
“What do you have to wear to the wedding? The slutty outfit will work great for the clubs, but this is a black tie affair.” Though I’m surprised she wore it and came alone to the audition.
“I’ve got dresses,” she says in a haughty tone.
“Bring them and shoes tomorrow afternoon. We’ll need to approve them first.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“No. I’m not.”
I open her car door that squeaks so loud it could be used in a horror movie for special effects.
“I can get that myself,” she says.
“Okay.” I slam the door shut.
She huffs and reopens the door.
“Why did you dress that way if you were afraid to come here?” I ask.
Her face puffs up. “I really need this job.”
“Honestly, you would’ve gotten it based on your talents,” I say, walking away from her.
“Really?” she asks in her usual timid voice.
I don’t turn around. “Yes, really.”
I slide into my SUV and fiddle with the glove box while waiting for her car to stutter to life. Once she’s headed down the road, I pull out. I’d hate for her to be stuck at the back of the warehouse after dark, even if she is a pain in my ass.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LENNON
That evening, I hold Currie’s hand to escort her backstage to the recital. She’s decked in a fluorescent pink tutu.
“You can’t let Jinx wear any old dress to that wedding,” Currie says. “She has to match you guys.”
“You’re right,” I say, fantasizing about spending the day shopping with Jinx in Chicago. “I’ll text her later to let her know the good news.”
“Zoe and I will help, so don’t worry.”
Even better, Jinx will see me with the girls and know I’m not a scary guy.
Soft cries come from the dumpster on our way to the staging area of the theater where all the little ballerinas crowd together, wearing bright costumes. Currie tugs free from my handhold and races for
the trash bin.
Despite the fact she’s wearing one of her coveted recital outfits, she goes dumpster diving and yanks out a box of kittens. I amble over to help her down from the bin. Something greasy smudges her tutu. I try to clean it off with Kleenex, but it’s not working.
Currie caresses one of the little fur balls.
“Don’t touch them,” I say, calling the Humane Society, which is on my favorites list. This isn’t the first rescue mission I’ve been volunteered for. Harry being one of them.
She picks up another kitten. Its tabby fur is matted down, and its eyes are gummy with goo. “Can we keep one?”
“Put it down,” I say to her before telling Kiki at the shelter our location.
That’s right. We call so often I’m on a first name basis with half of the staff there.
When I get off the phone, I say, “You weren’t scratched or bitten were you?”
She suspiciously sucks her finger. “No.”
“I’ll wait here until the Humane Society gets here. You go on and wash your hands.”
“Is Mommy coming?” Her lips turn down because she knows the answer.
It’s worse if I lie. “I don’t think so, but I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”
“I wish she’d come.”
“Me, too.” With the box under one arm, I give her a one-handed hug and then a smack on her butt. She scuttles up the stairs and stands next to Zoe who waves at me while I wait on the street. I wave back.
I’ll give Mom another talk, applying more pressure this time by holding the platinum card out of reach. She should come, but partying with her male friends is somehow more important.
Bailey lines up her students. She teaches ballet and takes classes. That’s why she’s so toned. I smile at her, thinking how I can carve out alone time with her after the recital.
I wait the few minutes it takes the Humane Society van to pull up. At Currie’s insistence, we’re big donors, and when we have time, we volunteer.
Kiki gets out of the truck. She wears protective gloves and takes the kittens from me. She’s a middle-aged woman who’s donated her life to the abandoned animal population. Where was she when I was young and had nobody to take care of me?
She grins at me. “You’re on rescue duty again?”