In the Band

by Jean Haus

  Justin yells something to Sam then four shot glasses and a fifth of Absolute appears. Justin raises his own shot after pushing one towards me. Shots in hand Sam and Romeo follow. The loud conversation around us quells quite a few decibels as he waits. “To a great set and our new kick ass drummer, Riley!” Justin shouts and downs the alcohol.

  People cheer.

  Beside me, Chloe and Marcus grin.

  Vodka burns down my throat into my stomach, but I stop myself from coughing. I’m not much of a drinker. Three wine coolers usually have me past giggly and over my limit.

  Another shot appears in my hand.

  Sam lifts his glass and we follow suit. “To another great fucking year of music!”

  More shouts echo around us. The liquid doesn’t burn as bad the second time around.

  At the third shot, Romeo lifts his little glass. “To Justin and I not strangling each other this year,” he says loudly but doesn’t shout.

  Justin rolls his eyes before tossing back the vodka while Sam throws his head back in a laugh.

  Must be a story to that one. I’m imagining the dusty practice area destroyed in a long drawn out fistfight as Chloe grabs my shot and downs it before anyone can say anything.

  When the fourth shot appears in my hand, it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s my turn. I lift the glass and think of being on stage. “To drums beating through my veins.”

  Romeo’s surprised eyes focus on me as he drains his shot. Caught in his stare, liquid falls down my numb throat. The image of him on stage baring his soul suddenly flashes through my mind as Justin reaches for the glass in my hand. I shake my head. “You trying to kill me? No more.”

  Justin just laughs while he fills the small glass on the counter.

  Chloe pushes me outside.

  Surprisingly, or maybe not, dancing people move out of our way.

  Three steps into the shadowed yard, someone’s yelling my name. I spot Kendra waving and dancing on a picnic table. More people from my high school stand around her—including Aaron.

  My head whips to Marcus.

  “Hey, he asked. I wasn’t going to lie to him about a party,” he says defensively.

  “Dumbass!” Chloe hisses. “Like she wants to see him.”

  Marcus just shrugs as we move through the people dancing, talking, and drinking toward the table at the back of the yard. Toward Aaron.

  “Riley!” Kendra squeals, jumps down, and hugs me like we’re beasties from way back. “You have to introduce me to the band,” she slurs in my ear, but I’m aware she’s only interested in meeting one of them.

  “Later,” I whisper back. My head’s already buzzing. I’m not going back in until that bottle’s gone. Though I’m trying not to, I notice Aaron hanging at the back of the group over Kendra’s shoulder.

  Kendra releases me from her grip and the rest of her posse welcomes me. Some with a ‘hey’ other’s with eager compliments. Most of them belong in the Kendra category. I spoke less than ten words to them during high school. But Marcus seems to know them better, judging by the amount of fist pumps he shares.

  The music is loud even back here by the line of trees so I don’t catch all of the conversation around me. I just stand there like an idiot until Aaron stands before me. Looking like he’s unsure whether to hug me or run, he settles on a grin and a, “Hey, Riley.”

  “Aaron,” I say with a nod while a bittersweet longing rushes through me. Tall and lean with sandy brown hair, he has one of those boyish faces. Yet with his height, he comes off manly. Remembering my hands in that hair and my mouth on that smile, I step back suddenly overwhelmed with memories.

  He steps closer. “The band was awesome. You were awesome,” he says before taking a sip of the beer in his hand.

  I force myself to appear calm and collected. “Thanks. Why are you home?” I blurt out. Obviously, the three shots are already effecting me.

  He shrugs. “Don’t have classes on Fridays. I might be coming home a lot on weekends.”

  One of Kendra’s buddies is handing out beer. I snag one. Why is he telling me this? “That’s almost a five hour drive.” I crack the beer open while recalling his position on long distance relationships. They never work.

  He shrugs again but his eyes roam over me. Though it’s dark out here, I recall the color of his eyes. Hazel with just the tiniest specks of green. He has lovely eyes. I take a huge gulp of beer. Never one of my favorites it doesn’t taste too bad after three shots of vodka. “Thought you said the drive was too long to come home, except for holidays.”

  “I said a lot of things that have turned out to be bullshit.”

  My heart lurches at his words.

  Chloe, who had been talking to our previous classmates, steps next to me. “If it isn’t Aaron, back from the big, huge, major, far away, out of state college.”

  “Hey, Chloe,” he says lightly, either drunk, a moron, or purposely disregarding her attitude. He doesn’t appear drunk and he carried a 4.0 so the last would be my guess.

  I gulp more beer. Aaron watches me. With a hostile glint in her eyes, Chloe looks between us.

  Kendra appears. “It’s later.”

  “It is,” I agree, winding my arm around Chloe’s. “Come on,” I say to her and nod to Aaron. “See you around.”

  He frowns.

  “Don’t tell me you’re even thinking about it,” Chloe says, as we get closer to the house.

  I down the rest of the beer.

  “Oh fuck. You are.”

  “Aaron said he made a mistake,” Kendra slurs from her side.

  Chloe gives her a murderous look.

  I step between them and face Chloe. “Relax. Thoughts and actions are totally different,” I say and step back inside. For once, I’m searching for Romeo.

  He’s leaning against the far cupboards. A girl is pasted on each side of him. Justin’s nowhere to be seen, but Sam’s still in the girl-filled kitchen too. He’s playing quarter bounce with a bunch of people at the peninsula counter.

  People once again part for me. Romeo gives me an odd look when I step in front of him but smiles at Kendra and even shakes her hand after I make introductions. Is he only an ass to me? Kendra ignores the stares from the girls at his sides and shamelessly flirts. Chloe joins in on the quarter bounce.

  While I stand there like an idiot leaning against the fridge, Sam hands me a shot of something amber colored and I down it. Ugh. It burns even after the vodka and beer. Some of the girls ask me questions about drumming but most are intent on Romeo and Sam. Kendra hasn’t said a word to me. She just keeps talking and creeping closer to Romeo. With her blonde hair curled in ringlets and dressed in a skirt, a tube top, and a little jacket, I get why the girls are giving her dirty looks, but their continued looks at me are starting to irritate me.

  I’m just the drummer. I’m not in line for some band lovin’. Not even close to the end of it.

  While I think of Aaron waiting outside, Sam keeps giving me shots. Chloe intercepts most of them. Yet I down at least two more. Or maybe three.

  Surrounded by scantily clad college girls, Romeo barely looks at me. Other than handing me booze, Sam’s preoccupied with slapping quarters on the counter. And Chloe’s obviously determined to get wasted from the amount of shots she’s intercepted.

  The room grows warm. The voices become too loud. The images of people begin to overlap. Hoping fresh air will help, I stagger back outside as my head spins.

  On the patio, music roars inside my head and dancers knock into me while the world tilts and spins. Some guy—who looks like two—I’ve never seen before tries to grind against my ass. About to vomit for various reasons, I push through the people and wobble down the row of apartments until I find a dark one with lawn chairs outside on the little patio.

  For quite some time, I sit there with a numb mind while the echo of conversation and music comes from the direction of the party. My stomach slowly settles as time passes. I just might have been nodding off when my phone vi
brates in my pocket. It takes forever to fish it out and read the text.

  Marcus : Chloe is shwasted. I’m taking her back to the dorm. Will be back.

  I’m about to text—a feat that might be beyond difficult in my current state—back for him to wait for me when a shadow falls over me. My body jumps but as Aaron’s face materializes out of the haze, I slump back into the chair.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you,” Aaron says and plops down in the chair next to me.

  After blinking several times, I slide my phone closed. “Why?”

  “I miss you, Riley.”

  I lean forward and point. “You broke up with me.” The words come out slightly slurred.

  He sets his can of beer on his knee. “People make mistakes.”

  I close one eye so there is only one shadowy Aaron across from me. “It’s been a month,” I say slowly then in an unusual whine add, “You haven’t even called or even texted me.”

  “I wanted too. Five hours away, I thought breaking up was for the best, but when I saw you tonight, you looked so damn hot…”

  Annoyance breaks through the alcohol fog of my brain. “I never looked hot before?”

  Oblivious, to my horrified tone his white grin shines in the darkness. “You’ve always been cute, but you were beyond sexy on stage tonight.”

  I’m speechless. I’m crushed. And sick. I’m going to be sick. Though still buzzed, his words bring lucidity to our past. His pronouncement ruins the memory of every kiss, every caress, and every sigh. The intimate moments deeply treasured in my heart disintegrate at the realization of how he regarded me. The only person I’d ever slept with never found me sexually attractive. Kendra’s question, did he date you because it was convenient or something? comes back to haunt me because yes, evidently he did.

  Mistaking my silence for something else, he leans closer and raises a hand to my cheek. I resist the urge to punch him in the nose and leap up and slide across the dewy grass. “I’m sorry but you were right. Five hours away is just too much.”

  “Riley!” he calls out from behind me. I run through the people outside partying, past the other darkened apartments, and into the parking lot. Once I get across the street, angry tears start falling. I ignore my wet face until I get in front of Marcus’s dorm building. Then I take a deep breath and wipe my cheeks. Luckily, a girl steps on the porch and slides her card in the lock so I don’t have to wait to get buzzed in. She gives me a look when I follow her into the building so I mumble something about my friend Marcus living here and staying the night. She shrugs before ascending the stairway.

  Walking down the hall, I’m hoping Marcus hasn’t left yet or that Chloe isn’t passed out so I can get in his room. To my surprise, Marcus’s door isn’t closed all the way. I wipe my eyes one more time, but before I push the door open, a soft groan sounds followed by the moan of, “Yes. Yes. Oh, fuck yes.”

  Confused, I freeze.

  Who is in there with Chloe? Is it even Chloe? It sounds like Chloe. But maybe it’s Marcus with a girl from the party. I hadn’t noticed either of them in hook up mode with anyone.

  “Slide up, Chloe,” Marcus pants.

  Realizing Marcus and Chloe are in there—together!—I stumble away from the door with my hand over my mouth. My heel crashes into the opposite door but I somehow keep my yelp to a whimper before whirling toward the entrance.

  Five shots—or maybe six?—and one beer and I’ve landed in the fucking Twilight Zone.

  Chapter 10

  In the span of one night, my world has gone crazy. Okay, maybe crazier. And I have nowhere to go to escape the madness. Semi-drunk I sit on the curb in front of Marcus’s dorm next to my car. The keys are in my bag in his room. Though I wouldn’t drive after drinking, at least I could curl up in the backseat if I could get in, but no, my night just keeps getting better. Between Aaron’s horrendous hot flash and my two best friends who can’t stand each other having a screw fest, I can’t imagine things getting worse.

  “Riley?” someone asks from behind me.

  I turn to find Romeo staring down at me. Yup, things just got worse. The last thing I need right now is dealing with his shit.

  He bends, setting his elbows on his knees. “You okay?”

  My lip quivers. Maybe it’s the craziness of the night. Maybe it’s the consumption of too much alcohol. Or maybe it’s the concern in his gaze, but suddenly I feel like bawling all over again.

  His brows lower. “Why are you sitting out here?”

  My lip quivers again but somehow I hold in the tears. “Um…I’m waiting for Marcus and Chloe.” That’s kind of the truth.

  He glances at the phone in his hand. “It’s past two o’clock. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  I shrug while holding in a second round of tears.

  His dark eyes become more concerned. His fingers reach for my arm. “Why don’t you wait in my room?”

  “You live here too?” I asked surprised. I’d expect Romeo to live in some kind of swanky apartment where girls come to be seduced. Or maybe to seduce.

  Nodding, he pulls harder and we stand. I’m thinking about telling him that I’ll just wait here. Extra time around Romeo isn’t on my agenda, but the idea of Marcus finding me out here waiting and explaining why doesn’t hold much appeal. So I let Romeo tug me inside. His door is the second from the entrance.

  For a few seconds we’re engulfed in darkness until he flips a lamp on and soft light fills the space. Of course, the room looks very similar to Marcus’s. Two twin beds on each wall. Two desks and two dressers on top of an industrial tiled floor. But the thing that sets it apart are the two halves of the room. On one side, the walls are covered with movie and band posters like any other dorm room. The other wall is plain except for a long shelf over the bed filled with musical instruments.

  Romeo drops his keys on a dresser while I stare at the shelf. There’s a banjo, several flutes, a violin, and even a thin drum. The sight of the shelf has me forgetting the problems overwhelming me while sitting on the curb. After his acoustic performance tonight, I don’t even have to ask if they’re all his. “Do you know how to play all of those?”

  He falls onto a chair in front of a desk. “Some better than others.”

  Entranced with that shelf, I tug off my boots, kneel on the bed, and reach for the drum then pause. My glance to him is questioning. He nods stoically. I sit on the bed with the instrument on my knees. The wood is slightly warped. A faded, knotted design fills the center. And the fastenings are made of wood. The drum is obviously old and homemade. My fingers trace the painted knots. “Where did you get this?”

  Romeo’s gaze rises from the motion of my fingers. He lets out a short breath. “It was my grandfather’s. His father’s before that. Someone down the line even farther made it.”

  I smile. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s called a bodhrán,” he says softly. Most likely thinking I’m a sentimental drunk girl, Romeo just stares at me.

  My eyes shift away from his gaze back to the shelf. I’d like to reach up and grab the beater for the drum, but other than the care the instrument needs—I still feel the cloudy effects of one too many shots—it is late. Pounding on a drum in the dorm during the wee hours of morning probably isn’t a good idea. I turn and put the drum back, but the sight of all those instruments has me yearning for the sound of music. “Which do you play best?”

  His dark eyes now hooded hide what he’s thinking. “The fiddle.”

  I tilt my head and glance at the instruments.

  “The violin,” he says, clarifying.

  “Oh,” I say, reaching for the instrument and its bow. I hold them out to him. He raises a brow that slips under the ever-present angle of hair across his forehead. I extend my arms. “Play something for me. Since it’s late, something soft I guess.”

  With an expressionless face, he slowly reaches out and takes the fiddle from my grasp. Tucking it under his chin and lifting the bow, his dark eyes watch me but
at the first note, his lashes sweep down.

  The tune is soft and haunting with long notes as his dexterous fingers move on the stem. My breath catches at both the melody and the sight of him. The muscles of his neck are held tight at an angle from holding the instrument under his chin. The light from the lamp shines off one high cheekbone. Full lips are slightly open while the sweep of his lashes creates shadows on his skin.

  He plays with a deep felt emotion like he did playing Remember Everything. I sit frozen and captivated. Drunker on him than alcohol.

  Done, he lowers the fiddle to his lap and his gaze finds me.

  I let out the air I’d been holding in. “That was beautiful.” I don’t tell him both the music and the sight of him.

  He gives me a half smile.

  “What was it?”

  “Some old Irish folk tune,” he says with a shrug.

  “Your grandfather taught you?”

  “Years ago.”

  My foggy brain puts two and two together. “You wrote all our original music?”

  He nods.

  Thinking of the band, my eyes narrow. “You’re not being a dick to me. Why aren’t you being a dick?”

  He glances at the wall of posters across from us. “Not the time. I found you sitting on a curb looking lost and sad. Not your usual warrior self.”

  I flinch. He’s referring to super bitch. “Okay, but why are you usually such a dick?”

  “I told you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I want you to quit.”

  Shit. I feel my lip trembling again. “Why?” I say in a desperate sounding whisper and embarrassment rushes under my skin.

  He stands and lays the fiddle back on the shelf before plopping next to me on the bed. He claps his hands together and sets his elbows on his knees. Looking at the floor, he says, “When it comes to the band, Justin and I rarely get along. Sam picks sides every other day. I’m fucking sick of it. I formed the band. I write the music. I set up almost everything. Do most of the work. I had three meetings with those fraternities and sororities over the last two weeks so everything would go smooth tonight. Justin likes to play at being the front man and I don’t really give a shit in public but when he tries to call the shots behind the scenes,” he finally looks at me, “I get pissed.”