by Sybil Bartel
“I know you don’t want to hear this but I’m trying, son. Your mother has her problems, we all have our own demons. I’m not making excuses, I’m just trying to let you know what’s coming. Not because I couldn’t stop it but because I didn’t want to. You need to see her. You need the closure.”
Fuck him. “I had closure twelve years ago when I finally grew a pair and hit her back,” I lied. I didn’t have closure. I’d never had a chance. I’d been a twelve-year-old kid pushed to the edge with no one at my back.
My dad cleared his throat. “You can tell yourself that or you can do what you never had a chance to.” His voice was tired. Fifty years old tired.
I didn’t have a single ounce of sympathy for him. “Yeah, and what’s that?” I stupidly asked.
“Face her like a man.”
Every muscle tightened. “Like you never did?”
Silence, then, “I guess I deserved that.”
I said nothing.
“Well, can’t say I didn’t warn you. Good luck.” With that, my dad hung up.
I broke once. Twelve years ago. I almost didn’t come back. I wasn’t going to break again. No woman would ever have that power over me again.
I opened the shop and put all my aggression into the car I was working on and thought about what Myles had said. Maybe my monster of a mother had seen one of our interviews. The band was beginning to take off. We had a following, a website and social networking that Myles meticulously maintained. I had the shop, it had a website. I owned a third of the nightclub with Myles and his uncle, and it also had a website. I wasn’t hard to find. I kept my home secure, I never brought women there, the number was unlisted but nothing was truly undetectable. A few minutes on a computer and you’d find me. The only question was why. Why had she shown back up? I kept coming back to the only thing that made sense. Money. And I wouldn’t give the fucking bitch one cent.
I was tightening some bolts on a Super Bee at the end of the day when my phone vibrated. Wiping my hands on rag, I read the text.
Myles: Need a favor
Me: What?
Myles: Pick up takeout for five?
Me: Why?
Myles: At studio. Sound engineer here. And bring your bass.
Myles had bought a commercial space and he’d been converting it into a studio using some of the inheritance he’d gotten when his parents died. We’d had offers of a recording contract for the band but Myles had turned them all down. He said he wanted to go this route first so we’d be able to do our own sound. Not gonna lie, I agreed with him, but mostly, I was along for the ride. I’d played in his father’s band before he was killed and now I played with Myles. The Christensens had never steered me wrong.
Me: Fine
Myles: C u soon.
I closed up the shop, grabbed one of the clean T-shirts I kept in back, and got in the Barracuda. I stopped at home for my bass, picked up takeout, then drove to the studio. When I walked in, Myles and a guy I didn’t know were talking to our two other band members, Aaron and Ben. Aaron played keyboards, Ben was the drummer. I had nothing in common with either one except the band so I said hello and left it at that. With the exception of Myles, I was loner, always had been. Myles introduced the sound engineer, who looked more like a computer programmer than a sound guy, then he showed me the control room.
I was blown away. I hadn’t been here since Myles and I first roughed out the footprint he wanted and Neil, Myles and I sheet-rocked the walls. Now it looked like a professional recording studio. The control room and studio were all acoustic wall tiles. The control room had more equipment than an air traffic control tower. A digital audio workstation, five huge computer screens, and a bunch of shit that I had no idea what it was for.
The sound engineer wheeled around the hardwood floors in his chair, going back and forth between all the equipment, making adjustments. Myles looked like a kid on Christmas who’d just won the lottery and I couldn’t blame him. I was suddenly itching to jam.
“This is pretty fucking awesome, Myles.” I looked around again, wondering how much he’d sunk into the place.
“Right? And when we’re not using it, as soon as I’m up to speed on how all the equipment works, we’ll rent out studio time.”
I had to admit, if you had the funds—and obviously Myles did—it was a great plan. The closest professional recording studio was in Orlando, and if Myles built up a reputation for the studio, artists would travel here to use it.
Ben, Aaron, Myles and me went into the studio to jam. It was awesome, better than awesome. Nothing in life compared to my bass. It was all mine, all under my control, and no one could take it from me. Playing out my frustration, losing myself in the music, I thought we sounded incredible, and the sound engineer said we crushed it. When we called it a night, I was surprised to see it was almost midnight. Ben and Aaron left but Myles hung back, watching the sound engineer.
“You staying?” I asked Myles.
“Yeah.” He glanced at me and flashed his chick magnet smile. “This album is gonna crush.”
I smiled. “Never doubted it.”
I drove home and crashed. If it had been a Carly night, I probably would’ve hit the bar on my way home but it wasn’t. I tried to tell myself that was a good thing.
I was up before the sun. It was a curse I’d had since childhood. I liked to get up before my mother because the house would be peaceful. No yelling, no bitching, no hitting. I’d get up and sit with my dad while he had coffee. Then he’d leave for work, she’d get up, and all hell would break loose.
I was out of the shower at six fifteen when my phone lit up with a text.
Myles: U up?
Me: Yeah, u go to bed yet?
Myles: No, mixing. Sounds amazing but we gotta rerecord two tracks, maybe three.
I shook my head. Typical Myles but I wasn’t going to say shit because he was usually right when it came to the music.
Me: Why am I not surprised?
Myles: Ha. Need another favor
Me: No way, I’m on my way to the shop
Myles: It’ll take five minutes
Me: What?
Myles: Take Sam to school
I knew he drove her most days, she didn’t have her own car but shit, she was within walking distance.
Me: Not a chauffeur
Myles: C’mon. It’s cold and I’m tied up here
Me: Here’s a thought. Put your girlfriend first for once
Myles: I do, that’s why I’m asking
Bullshit, music was always first with Myles.
Me: Having me do your dirty work doesn’t count
Myles: C’mon. Sound guy flies back to CA this pm
Me: So u saying u won’t ask for any more favors after today?
Myles: Nice try. Pick her up, 7:15. It won’t kill u
What did he know? Maybe it would. Sam was bad for a man’s self-preservation. Lucky for him I was a glutton for punishment.
Me: U owe me
Myles: You’ll be paid back in spades when this album goes platinum
Yeah right.
Me: Keep dreaming
Myles: U know it
Who was I to judge? Myles made shit happen. Problem was, I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. All I knew? The club was making us all money hand over fist.
I left the house and I had to admit it was cold. The watery winter sun was up but the air was sharp and my breath fanned out in front of me. I stopped for two coffees and went to Sam’s early. If she wanted a ride, fine, I just didn’t want to wait around all morning to give it to her. I knocked on her door.
“Couldn’t stay away?” Sam, freshly showered, dressed in jeans and a sweater, greeted me sarcastically when she opened the door.
“Nope.” I stepped in and walked past her.
“Come in,” she said to my back.
I waltzed into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?”
“I don’t know. What’d you bring?”
“A bad atti
tude.” Staring at her, I sipped the coffee.
“Thirsty?” She nodded at the two coffees and I handed her one. “Trying to liquor me up?” She took the coffee and sniffed at it.
If it’d help with her attitude, I was all for it. “It’s seven in the morning, but catch me later and I’ll make sure I plan ahead.”
“They put you in jail for that—contributing to the delinquency of a minor.” She took a sip.
That and statutory rape. Myles was out of his fucking mind. “If I’m lucky it’s still hot enough to burn your tongue and you’ll stop talking. Then I won’t have to listen to your sarcasm.” I leaned against the kitchen counter. She’d taken a sip and I knew mine was still hot as hell so check one for me.
“That your M.O.?”
Damn, she was in a mood. “With you.” If I was lucky, it’d work.
“Good luck with that. Hope it works out for you.” She walked into the living room.
“So far, so good. You ready to go?”
“Go where?”
Did I miss something? “School.”
“Nope. Too early.” She sank down to the couch, holding her coffee with both hands.
I sat down next to her, putting my feet on the coffee table. It was almost as cold in here as outside. “Did you pay the heating bill?”
Sam stared at my boots, then raised her eyebrows at me. “Did you leave your manners at the front door?”
What manners and who was she kidding? Her coffee table was scratched to hell. I glared back, daring her to say something.
She finally looked away and drank some more coffee. “So what brings you to this neck of the woods?”
Myles hadn’t told her I was coming. What a fuckhead. Damned if I was going to get involved again so I just looked at her, giving her my I’m-not-gonna-talk face.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” I knew exactly what I was doing.
“Look so expressionless all the time?”
“It’s an art.” I finished my coffee.
“It’s irritating.”
“It serves its purpose.”
“To push people away?”
Yep. “Exactly.” I didn’t bother hiding my wry smile. “Or piss them off.”
“Speaking of pissed, how’s Myles?”
“You think he’s pissed?” Is that what this was about?
“That’s what I asked.”
Then I got it. Myles hadn’t called her, at all. She thought he was pissed. I took pity on her. “He’s still at the studio with the sound guy, they worked through the night. He asked me to give you a lift to school.”
“Lucky you,” she said crankily.
“Concur.” I kept my face blank and my voice even, purposely leaving my response open for interpretation either way. Then I set my empty cup on the coffee table and leaned my head back.
Sam turned and watched me for a full minute.
“You’re staring,” I pointed out but I didn’t care. I’d been stared at my entire adult life. Six-two, shaved head, and more tattoos than common sense, I was used to it. I just wanted her to know I knew.
“Observing,” was all she said.
“Observe away.” If it kept her mood in check I was all for it.
“How’s Carly?”
I glanced at her. “Since when do you know her name?”
“Since I asked Myles.”
“Checking up on my sex life?” I smiled salaciously.
“You have sex?” she asked innocently.
I blinked. Then I blinked again. No way.
Sam burst out laughing.
Unbelievable. “Nice.” She totally had me.
“I thought so.” She smiled affectionately.
“Christ, Myles has his hands full.”
Just like that, her smile disappeared and I felt like a tool. “You okay?”
She sighed with resignation. “Okay is a relative term.”
“Amen.” Who was ever okay? It was a bullshit word to fill voids.
Sam inhaled and made to get up but stopped at the edge of the couch. “Can I tell you something without you taking it the wrong way?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You smell nice.”
“Back at you.” Clean, spicy, Sam smelled like a mystery I didn’t want the answer to.
“I’m ready to go now,” she said quietly.
“Let’s hit it.”
Palming my keys, I jogged down the steps with my hand at the small of Sam’s back and opened the passenger door of the Barracuda for her. If you’d told me my two worlds were going to collide this morning, even given me the exact time, I still wouldn’t have been prepared for what happened. When I shut the door and looked up, I was staring into Carly’s eyes.
Everything went slow motion.
Jogging at a fast clip, Carly suddenly halted and her face fell. Stock-still, she stared.
Mother fucker.
I had no choice. Own it. Own it own it own it. I inclined my head at her and got in the Barracuda. Like a goddamn Lifetime movie, Carly stood there and watched me start the engine and pull away. When I looked in the rearview mirror, her upper body was half turned around, still watching.
“You know where you’re going?” Sam asked, oblivious.
“Yeah.” Fuck. Carly? Jogging past Sam’s?
“Did you go to high school here?”
“No.” How the hell would I explain this to her? And why was I even worried about it? I didn’t owe her shit. But damn it, seeing the look on her face just now felt fucking horrible.
“Most people would follow that with a little personal information. Where you grew up, where you went to school. It’s called small talk. It’s a form of sharing.” Sam sounded pissed.
I pulled into the school lot and parked. I needed to calm down. I needed a distraction. “I grew up in Miami, went to high school there. I wanted to be a musician but my dad insisted I have something to fall back on. I sucked at school so he taught me to work on cars. After Myles’s dad moved his family here, he convinced me to move up. I worked at a garage until I could afford to open my own shop, then I bought a house. When I’m not working, I’m with the band. Anything else you want to know?” I glared at her like it was her fault Carly saw us together.
“Nope.” She grinned. “That’s good for now. Thanks for the ride.”
I peeled out of the parking lot, a stupid fucking plan already forming. I broke about eighteen traffic laws gunning it for the coffee shop around the corner from Sam’s apartment. Time wasn’t on my side. Parking illegally, I jogged inside, grabbed a couple of juices from the case, ordered two coffees and picked out a few muffins. Armed, I went back to the car and broke a few more traffic laws.
Five minutes later, juggling the drinks, I reached for Carly’s doorbell.
“What are you doing, Graham?” Her voice was small, hurt.
Startled, I turned around. The hurt in her voice was nothing compared to the look on her face. Fuck. “Having breakfast with you.” I held up the bag of muffins.
Sad, angry, Carly still looked pretty. Her hands went to her hips. “Your girlfriend too tired after last night? Didn’t make you breakfast?” The words were ugly, even coming from her.
Reminding myself I didn’t owe her anything, I didn’t correct the girlfriend comment. Instead I drove it home. “She doesn’t cook.” And because I was an asshole, a humorless smile curved my lips, daring her to push me further.
She blanched then her face went red. “You need to leave!”
My smile dropped and I got pissed. I had no right, she was dead on, but I was pissed, about her accusation, about my mother, about holding this fucking bag like an idiot so I let her have it. “Listen up because I’m only gonna say this once. I don’t owe you shit. Not one goddamn thing. But I’m here and I can appreciate what you think you saw. Not that it’s any of your business but that was Myles’s girlfriend, not mine. I gave her a ride to school. You don’t get an explanation beyond that.” She could take it or le
ave it, I no longer cared. Coming after Carly this morning was a bad fucking idea. This was exactly why I didn’t get involved with women.
“Oh, that’s rich! Do you make it a habit of preying on young girls for friends, or is it just other guys’ girlfriends?”
I took a step closer and Carly flinched, big time. “I never said she was my friend. Wanna make another assumption? You wanna walk that line with me?”
Body cowering, she glared up at me. “I don’t owe you anything!”
“No shit.” I turned to go.
“Why did you leave?”
I spun around. “What?”
Eyes wide, she stepped back. “You ran. Why did you run the other night?”
I lost it. “Because I don’t do this!”
“Do what?” she yelled back.
I stepped forward, bent my knees slightly, and got in her face. I dropped my voice to a deadly calm. “I don’t date. I am not, nor will I ever be your boyfriend. I do not date.”
Unbelievably, Carly’s face softened and she broke into a grin. A huge, shit-eating grin. “Is that food?”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
“Drinks?”
I was about to punch something.
“And conversation?” She innocently raised her eyebrows. “Because that, Graham Allen, is a date.”
I took a deep breath and pushed everything down, forcing my voice to remain calm. “Do you want breakfast or not?”
“Sure.” Megawatt smile.
Oh my fucking God. Carly unlocked her front door and bounded up her stairs. Like a dog, I followed.
“Are you in a rush or can I take a quick shower?”
I set the shit down on her coffee table, trying to calm my breathing. I should’ve walked. Just like the other night. I didn’t belong here. “Shower.”
Carly sauntered off and I fell on the couch. I pulled my phone out and called Myles. As soon as he answered I laid into him.