Strings of the Muse

by Kristi Ayers

  I froze. “Your… boyfriend?” I never had an inkling he was gay. He’d mentioned he was in a relationship and that “Carter” was working out of town.

  “Your observational skills are quite lacking. Who did you assume I was standing by in all the pictures at my house?”

  “A family member? A best friend? Hell if I knew. I don’t pay attention to those things.”

  “And I’d venture a guess that that’s what landed you here. You never paid attention. To anything.” His eyebrows lifted. “Am I wrong?”

  God… No. He was completely right. I’d failed to pay attention to everyone. Their lives didn’t exist except when they were with me, where my needs took a front row seat and they were only there for the ride.

  “Hey, I’m not here to make you feel like a douche—”

  “Yeah, but I was one. You’re right. On both counts.” I looked away. “I did have a girl.”

  He was quiet for a few minutes, probably letting my transgressions fester into an open wound, which they were. All of it surfaced as I looked at myself in a repugnant new light. Disgusted, I glared into the black shadows of the forest.

  “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

  My gaze shot to him. “Hear what?”

  “That knocking. It’s a Bigfoot letting us know it’s there. Maybe a half mile away, maybe less.”

  I sat up straighter because I had heard a knocking sound but assumed it was a deer stomping loudly as it ran.

  The sound came again. “What the fuck…”

  “I’m going to knock back. They seem to like acknowledgement.”

  “What? Wait.” I scrambled to my feet, unsure what the hell we were doing.

  Denny took a sturdy branch and whacked it against a tree a few times. Half a minute later, I heard the knocks in the distance again.

  “No way,” I breathed.

  “If they are friendly, they’ll leave us alone.”

  “And if they’re not?”

  “They’ll throw rocks at us,” he stated nonchalantly.

  Luckily, we got the friendly ones, because once they were bored from this archaic communication, we didn’t hear anything else.

  “Time to hit the sack. There’s nothing like sleeping out here.” He climbed into the tent, then noticed I didn’t follow and peeped out. “Adam, come on. I’m not going to make a move on you; you’re not my type.”

  I laughed. “Okay, we sleep head to feet.” I crawled in and found the sleeping bag he designated for my use.

  “You do realize all the right parts still line up that way?”

  And that was when I started to crawl back out. He laughed and grabbed my arm. “I’m just messing with you. Honestly, Carter and I are legit.”

  I eyed him. “If I find you curled against me, I will kick your ass.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The next couple of days flew by in a whirlwind of endless chores that Denny insisted I help him with, not that I wanted to paint his living room or reorganize his garage. I could give him one thing, though. Everything we did was actually fun, even the camping, which he didn’t forget.

  “So when are you paying up? I picked out my new truck. We can get it when we get your car.” The deer-in-the-headlights look I sported made him crack up. “I’m kidding! I like old Betsy too much to give her up. But it’s time to get you a ride of your own.”

  “Thank you, wise sponsor. I’m grateful to get a piece of my freedom back.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t holding you hostage. You could have borrowed my car if only you’d asked.”

  I chuckled and shook my head. Here I thought he was trying to keep my urges in check. It turned out to be a good thing, though, because I learned how in control of myself that I really was. A few times I did have to talk myself down. If I’d had a car, I might have been more tempted. It was always during the night when I was lying in the darkness with nothing but my own thoughts, but each time, I put to use the mental tools therapy instilled in me and proved to myself how strong I’d become.

  Magical Thursday was finally upon us and Denny’s bandmates were on their way over. I would’ve happily gone to wherever they normally practiced, but maybe Denny was shielding me from anyone popping a beer. Ridiculous, but whatever. My weekly AA meetings were enough to keep me in check and I knew what my triggers were, and watching someone drink wasn’t going to make me want to join them. At least, I didn’t think so.

  Denny opened the front door and introduced me as they arrived. “This is Gideon, our keyboardist. Gideon, this is Adam.” We shook hands and said a few pleasantries.

  A few minutes later, the other band member appeared at the door. Denny welcomed in not one, but two people. “Adam, this is Luke and his girlfriend, Savannah. There isn’t a time when they aren’t glued at the hips. Guys, meet Adam.” I noticed Luke looked like a typical rocker, and Gideon, with his thick black glasses, seemed more like an intellectual hipster.

  I waited while they chitchatted amongst themselves for a few minutes, but it appeared like they weren’t going to get started on the music. “You said there were only three in your band?” I asked Denny as he walked by me toward the kitchen.

  “Right, but we have one more who is joining us tonight.”

  That was news to me. Who could it be? Carter?

  The doorbell rang and Denny pivoted to grab it. “Hey, man, good to see you,” he said to the person. When he stepped to the side, a forty-something-year-old man walked inside. “Matt, this is Adam. Adam, meet Matt Hale. He’ll be hanging out while we play.”

  I shook Matt’s hand. He had a firm and confident handshake, one that matched his suit and dress shoes. He seemed out of place among us, but no one batted an eye. They must have all been friends and Matt seemed to have just gotten off work for the day.

  We then made our way to the spare room where my drums sat along with Denny’s Launchpad, a keyboard, and a microphone. Savannah had taken a detour to the kitchen, deciding not to watch us, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t hear us from where she sat. She probably had heard all their songs a thousand times already.

  I leaned against the wall, instantly missing my studio and the space it provided. Matt stood near me with an odd air of authority. I didn’t know what to think about him just yet.

  The guys got right into it with a cover. They sounded amazing, to be honest. Not a flaw to be heard. They next played one that Luke had written. I could see how a record company picked them up; they had a refreshing sound that would hook anyone who was drawn to the bold range of sounds and strong, driving beat. Clubs would fight to have them play live.

  When the song ended, Denny looked over at me with raised eyebrows, wanting to know what I’d thought. “You guys are awesome. I’m impressed, man.”

  “Come join us for a song. I mean, your drums look awfully lonely in the corner,” he suggested. I politely declined, not wanting to hold up the guys’ evening, but he insisted. “Just one song, your choice. It’ll be fun.” The other guys looked excited for me to join them, so I finally relented.

  We did a cover of Come With Me Now by KONGOS. It had a strong beat and Denny could work his magic playing the sounds of an accordion on his Launchpad. Gideon played the chords for the guitar part on his keyboard and Luke belted out the lyrics.

  It was hands down the most fun I’d had in over two excruciating long months without music. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until that moment.

  We ended up doing another two songs before calling it a night. Everyone made their way to the kitchen, where Denny offered water, soda, and coffee. The entire time, I noticed the little head nods and nonverbal communication going on between all of them. Something was up and I felt like it was about me, instantly making me on edge and defensive. Was it because I’d been in rehab? I was one second away from snapping at Denny when he stopped me in my tracks.

  “Adam, there’s something I need to tell you. Matt, here, is actually from Art Haven Records, the record company that signed us. Tonight was an audition
of sorts. Your audition. The unanimous vote is that we’d all be honored if you joined our band officially. What do you say?”

  Floored, I could only stare at him. He’d tricked me, which pissed me off, but he’d tricked me in the most advantageous way possible. I hated being manipulated and much preferred to be in control of anything regarding my life, but at the same time, an opportunity like this was one in a million.

  And this wasn’t a decision they’d made lightly. I knew that more than anyone. This was their future.

  I glanced at each person, attempting to read them. Luke spoke up first. “You rock, man. We’d love to have you on board.”

  Gideon echoed the sentiment. “You’re amazing on drums and would be an asset to our band.”

  I looked at Matt to be sure he was okay with all of this. “These guys are going places,” he stated. “Interviews, radio, concerts. The tour starts this summer.”

  In the back of my mind, I had to at least consider the possibility of relapsing. They spoke about it in rehab, what could happen, and what would happen if I didn’t stay in control of any sudden urges. It would put a person back to square one.

  Denny walked over to me and spoke in a low tone. “I’ve thrown many things at you over the last week and you’ve handled each with flying colors. If you want this, go for it.”

  I blinked once, decision made, then said, “Sign me up.”

  Kristi Ayers lives in Oklahoma with her family and pets. This is her fourth novel. Learn more about her at www.kristiayersauthor.com.