by Hazel James
“Thanks,” I say, walking out of the kitchen. This is as close as we’ve ever gotten to having an argument with each other, and the air between us feels awkward now. I open my mouth to apologize, but she beats me to it.
“I’m sorry, Beef. I know you’re trying to help, and I thank you for that. I’ll call him when we get home.” She leans and gives me a hug.
“I love you, Avery. I want you to be happy. And even though you’ve been putting on a good show, I know you’re not right now.”
“You’re right. But I plan on dancing my ass off tonight, so that should help,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. Her attempt at changing the subject doesn’t go unnoticed, but I let it slide. “Now go get your sweat on so we can get ready.”
“How are we gonna get in to Labyrinth? Do we need fake IDs?” I ask from the backseat of the town car. Todd insisted that Jensen take us, and I didn’t complain. We didn’t have any problems on the subway today, but being on it at night creeps me out.
“It’s teen night tonight. If you’re over sixteen, you can get in,” Avery says. She’s wearing a sparkly bandage dress that she had hanging in her closet. It crisscrosses in the front and stops mid-thigh. Surprisingly, all of the important places are completely covered. She’s paired it with three-inch heels that match the dress. Except, according to her, the dress is champagne-colored and the heels are nude. Whatever. Thankfully, we managed to find flat, strappy sandals to go with my skinny jeans earlier today. I told her I’d rather spend the evening at the club instead of the emergency room with a broken ankle. Besides. I’m tall enough already.
“I don’t think anyone’s gonna mistake you for being under sixteen tonight,” I say.
“Y’all be careful when I’m up on stage, okay? I have no idea what city boys are like, but I’ve seen a lot of movies.”
“Relax, Father James. We’ll be fine,” Avery says, giving James a reassuring pat on the arm. Jensen stops in front of a nondescript building and opens the door. We get out and I do a complete three-sixty in the street. No lights. No music. No people.
“Um. Avery? Where’s the club?”
“It’s back here,” she says, walking toward an alley. Great! I knew I should have packed pepper spray. We make our way between two industrial buildings, the sound of music growing louder as we go. Avery reaches the corner and turns right. Up ahead, a bouncer with muscles that scream “I’m on steroids!” stands outside a blue door with a logo of a maze. Who puts the entrance at the back of the building? Now I understand how the club got its name. We follow Avery inside, and it takes several seconds for my ears to adjust to the volume. The bass from the house music pounds through the floor and up my legs, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flap a little harder. Did I mention I’ve never been to a club before? From the looks of it, there’s about two or three hundred people here. I keep hold of Avery’s arm so we don’t get separated.
“Where are you supposed to meet Roth and Lenny?” I shout in James’ ear.
“The door next to the stage. He texted me in the car and said to have y’all hang out on the upper level on the right side. I should have a clear view of you from the stage.”
His words send a shiver down my body. One, because my boyfriend’s gonna be up on that stage soon and holy shit, that’s so hot. And two, because now he has me worried.
“Why do you need to be able to see us? Is there something you’re not telling me?” I ask, gripping the side of his black shirt with my free hand.
“No, I just wanna be able to find you when I’m done with my part of the set. And like I said—a man with green eyes has a surprise for you. I wanna see your reaction.” He bites his lip and gives me a hopeful smile. Oh my God, he’s nervous and so damn adorable. If I don’t walk away, I might eat his face right here.
“I’ll see you soon, rock star. I’ll be the one on the balcony checking out the singer on stage.” I wink at him and plant a kiss on his mouth.
“Yeah, Roth is pretty hot,” he says with a laugh. “See ya later, Mrs. Tennyson. Take good care of my girl, Avery.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she smiles. “Break a leg or whatever.”
“Thanks!” He squeezes my hand once, then heads toward the door. Avery and I push past a wall of writhing bodies to climb the stairs. The upper level is a little less crowded, but we still have to elbow and nudge our way to the railing. I step in something sticky on the way and pray it’s a spilled drink and not dried bodily fluids.
“How many times have you been here?” I ask.
“I used to come here about once a month before we moved.” Avery says it like it’s no big deal.
“God, we grew up so differently,” I laugh. “I’ve never been to a club and you practically lived here.”
“You’ve never been to a club? I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m really not. That’s okay. We’ll make up for it tonight.” Avery shakes her ass, causing light to bounce off the sequins on her dress.
“You look like a disco ball!” I laugh. She puts her hand on her hips, cocks an eyebrow and gives me a side-eye. “A very sexy disco ball. One that is not actually shaped like a ball, I might add,” digging the hole even deeper. Backpedal, Ray. “How about ‘you look like a smokin’ hot island princess?”
“What?”
“Between the color of your dress and the color of your skin, you look all sparkly and tropical.” It’s true. Her ethnicity means she can pull off so many colors. I’d envy her for it, but I rock the pale blonde look. And James apparently prefers that over sparkly tropical anyway. Avery looks at her dress, then back at me.
“Nice recovery, Wheaton. Now, while the house lights are still up, let’s see if there’s any man candy up here.” She turns her head casually, scanning the balcony.
“I thought your man candy was back in North Carolina.”
“North Carolina isn’t here, and I’d like to forget reality and just dance. With a guy. A gorgeous one, preferably,” she adds.
“What if Fletcher showed up here tonight?”
“WHAT?” Her eyes dart around the room like a stage-five clinger who just caught the scent of fresh meat.
“Chill, Avery. I said ‘what if.’”
Her hand flies to her heart. “Jesus, Ray. Don’t do that to me.”
“Don’t look so disappointed.” If she wasn’t sure how she felt about him earlier today, I hope she does now. Her reaction makes it so obvious.
“I’m not.” Her hands smooth her dress and she pulls her phone out to check the time. “Arizona Grace should go on in about ten minutes.”
There she goes changing the subject again. “I should have asked what songs James was singing. With all the excitement, I completely forgot.”
“I wonder what his surprise is. Maybe he’ll come out singing Whitney Houston.”
“That would be hysterical! James belting out those high notes? I’ve gotta see that. I’m so requesting that for the next open mic night.” I take my phone out and send him a text doing just that. We spend the next several minutes making a mental list of the most embarrassing songs he could possibly sing. Hit Me Baby One More Time by Britney Spears, complete with choreography, comes in first. I wonder if I could get him in full costume, too?
Cheers from the crowd snap us back to the present and I look down to see the guys walking out. Oh God, he’s got a guitar. I repeat James has a guitar. The butterflies that were happily fluttering in my stomach when we first got here have all passed out. They didn’t stand a chance against the sight of James on stage. I grab onto Avery’s arm for dear life.
“He’s singing and playing! Holy shit!” I fumble in my purse for my phone as Roth takes the mic.
“What’s up, everyone? Thanks for showing up tonight so we didn’t play to an empty room.” The crowd cheers in response. “We’re Arizona Grace. I’m Roth, that’s Lenny, Bear’s in the back on drums and Simon’s over there on bass.” His New York accent sounds even more pronounced in the mic. “And this guy,” he says, pointing at James, “is a
hobo we picked up at the 34th Street Station. True story. But the kid’s got talent, so he’s slumming with us for a while tonight. Give it up for James, everyone!” The girl on the other side of me lets out a loud whistle and hoots. James holds his hand up and waves, then looks up to where Avery and I are standing and winks at me.
“Did you see that, Lexi?” the girl shouts at her friend, jumping up and down. Her boobs nearly spill out of her barely there top. “He winked right at me!”
Please.
James starts the opening chords to a song I don’t recognize, but enjoy all the same. Before I know it, he’s singing to me about sex being on fire and that phrase does all sorts of things to my ladybits. My body moves to the beat, powered by the raspy voice coming from my boyfriend.
My boyfriend.
Take that, Lexi’s friend.
The crowd behind us comes to life, dancing and swaying us into the railing. The personal bubble I had before the set started is gone, but everyone seems to be having a good time. I look to my right and see Avery dancing against a guy. His hand is on her waist and she’s leaning back into him. He’s wearing a ball cap and sunglasses—who wears sunglasses in a nightclub, anyway?—so I can’t tell what he looks like. Judging by the way his shirt clings to his body and the way he smells, he can’t be a total troll. More importantly, Avery’s smiling.
“Looks like you found a partner for the night,” I lean over and say into her ear so she can hear me over the music.
“He came up behind me, and I went with it. I’m not turning around though. I don’t wanna know what he looks like or what his name is. Right now, his name is Mr. Fun, and that’s all that matters to me.” She laughs and resumes dancing.
Whatever works.
The song ends and Bear counts the guys right into the next one. I don’t know any of the lyrics, but the rest of the crowd sings along. When James sings about using somebody, his voice goes up higher and I wish I could record the sound.
Record! Shit!
I take my phone from my purse again and try my best to keep my hands steady while I take a video for Instagram. I want to hashtag the entire freaking world. #myboyfriend #rockstar #hesmine #backoff #mrstennyson
The crowd launches into applause when they finish the second song.
“Thank you, I hope youse guys enjoyed that little slice of Kings of Leon,” Roth says in his thick accent. “Let’s take a walk with Mr. Brightside, shall we?” He nods to James, who steps away from the mic and starts the intro. Roth’s taking the vocals on this one, and Lexi’s friend about loses her mind next to me.
“Oh em gee, Destiny! This song is totally for you! Maybe that James guy wants you to call him!” Lexi shouts. They squeal and jump up and down, their boobs in a match to see whose can bounce the highest. I’m almost tempted to let Avery’s boobs loose on them just to shut them up, but she’s still happily dancing with Mr. Fun.
“Thanks, Labyrinth!” Roth says, once the guys finish the song. “Youse guys have been kind to my hobo friend. He asked us for a favor and being the kind New Yorkers we are, we told him to go fuck himself,” he says, grinning wildly. “Nah, just kidding. He asked if he could play a song, and we’re gonna slow it down and do that right now.”
“Thanks, everyone,” James says. “The most beautiful girl in the world is right up there in the balcony and this song’s for her. Rachel, I’m still waiting on question twenty. Just ask.”
My hands fly to my mouth, and I look at Avery with instant tears in my eyes. She has no idea what the significance of this song is, but she gives my arm a supportive squeeze anyway. Bear, Simon, and James start the intro to the song, and my heart jumps down to my toes and grabs hold of my stomach on the way back up.
I spend the next five minutes absolutely captivated by James’ voice. I never thought about him doing a Lake Street Dive cover, especially since Rachael’s voice is so iconic. He’s dropped the song to a lower octave, and the rock quality he brings to it works for him. It so, so works. Three minutes and eleven seconds into it, he closes his eyes and lets his voice go. The crowd whoops and hollers in response and goose bumps sprout all over my body. His voice is fucking magical. The band quiets down when he gets to the third verse, and he sings it directly to me, never taking his eyes off me. If it’s possible to fall in love with someone a thousand times in forty seconds, I’ve just done it. Tears spill down my cheeks, proof that all the emotions inside me can’t be contained. When the song ends, he takes the guitar off and hands it to a crew member, then waves to the crowd.
“Thanks guys, we’re gonna take a quick break and we’ll be back with stuff from our latest album,” Roth says.
I turn to Avery and take a cleansing breath. “That was the single greatest experience of my life. I’m just kicking myself for not getting it on video.”
“You mean like this?” she asks, holding up her phone. All five minutes of glory are cued up on her screen.
“Avery Jane Murphy, I love you. I promise I’ll name my firstborn after you.” I lean in for a hug. “Hey, where’d Mr. Fun go?”
“I dunno. He left when the music slowed down.” She shrugs her shoulder like it’s no big deal. “So you still haven’t asked James question twenty? That was like two months ago or something.”
“I couldn’t ever think of anything good enough.” It’s my turn to shrug my shoulder.
“Hey there, Mrs. Tennyson.” I turn and see a sweaty James walking through the crowd toward me.
“Hey yourself.” I take his face in mine and kiss him like I’m drowning and he’s my only source of water. I hear Lexi and Destiny huff behind me then shuffle over to the stairs, clearly disappointed that their boobs didn’t do the trick.
I love it when the trash takes itself out.
“So did you like your surprise?” he asks.
“The man with green eyes did a very good job. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, trust me. I’m just glad the guys learned the song this afternoon.”
“So that’s what the mystery texting was all about?”
He wrinkles his face. “Yup. Sorry for lying to you earlier. I know I said I wouldn’t do that, but it was for a good cause.”
“No apology necessary. I’ve never had a more perfect song sung to me.” Because now I know what question twenty will be.
I just have to figure out the right time to ask.
“Hurry the fuck up, dude, or it’s not gonna work,” I whisper. There’s nothing like talking on a cell phone in a public bathroom to make you feel sixteen kinds of disgusting. I needed the privacy, though, and this was the only way I could get it without tipping off Avery. Mandy called before we left New York to tell us she was covering for Devin, who woke up with migraine. I told the girls I’d spring for an Uber instead. Right before we boarded, an image of Fletcher picking us up flashed through my head, so I told Ray about it. She agreed, and I texted Fletcher with our arrival info.
“Relax, I’m pulling into the airport now,” he says. “You promise she won’t freak out?”
No.
“Sure. See you in a few.” I stow my phone in my pocket and walk back to the baggage claim carousel, interrupting a heated discussion between Ray and Avery.
“Nope. No way. Zac Efron beats Channing Tatum every time,” Rachel says.
“Please. There’s no way Zac could have pulled off a Magic Mike role like Channing did,” Avery fires back.
“I hate to say it, but you’re both wrong. Paul Walker’s where it’s at, God rest his soul,” I say, grabbing our luggage cart. “Now come on, our ride should be here.”
“My boyfriend has the hots for Paul Walker?” Rachel asks in a loud whisper behind me.
“You know I have a thing for blondes,” I say, grinning over my shoulder. We step outside the terminal and Avery scans the arrivals line.
“What’s our Uber driving?”
“A black Nissan Maxima.” Right on cue, Fletcher’s car pulls up. Avery turns around to pull her suitcases off the cart and miss
es him getting out of the driver’s seat.
Three…two…one…
“What the fuck, James?” she asks, trying to mask her surprise with a scowl. We all ignore her and load our luggage into the trunk. I open the back door for Rachel and slide in behind her before Avery beats me to it. Fletcher opens the front passenger door and makes a sweeping gesture to the interior. She rolls her eyes and flops into the seat. “I told you I’d call him when we got home,” she huffs to Rachel. “I don’t know why you insisted on meddling.”
“Hey, you meddled when you told James to write that song. Consider this payback. You’re welcome in advance,” Rachel says sweetly as Fletcher pulls into traffic.
“Just give me twenty minutes, babe. I’ll tell you the whole story and you can ask me anything you want. If you never want to speak to me again after that, I promise to respect your decision.” His fingertips tap a nervous beat on the steering wheel.
Avery crosses her arm and narrows her eyes. “Fine.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out as he exhales. “Almost five years ago, I had a girlfriend named Dayna. I asked her out on a dare and surprisingly, she said yes. I was a freshman and she was a sophomore.” He looks over his shoulder to merge onto Interstate 40 and sets the cruise control. “We dated off and on for a few months. The night of homecoming, some buddies of mine scored a few cases of cheap beer. We skipped the last half of the dance to go to my friend Tanner’s house and I got drunk for the first time. I also had sex for the first time. My mistake was not wrapping it up. I guess I just thought there was no way to get a girl pregnant since I was a virgin.” He rubs his forehead for a few moments, then resumes tapping on the steering wheel.
“A few weeks later, Dayna said she was late. I worked at a grocery store, so I shoplifted a pregnancy test because I didn’t want anyone to know what I was doing. I brought it to school with me the next day. I thought the damn thing was gonna burn a hole through my backpack,” he says with a quiet laugh. “Anyway, it was positive. I found out on a Wednesday morning that I was gonna be a dad. By Friday, she’d already started researching abortion clinics. I panicked and told my mom. I wasn’t ready to have a child, but I wasn’t ready for her to make that kind of decision for me, either.”