Just Watch the Fireworks

by Monica Alexander

  She’s not Courtney.

  I self-consciously moved my hand to my lap and left it there for the duration of the meal.

  ***

  “What do you think, Court?” Summer asked as we were paying the bill.

  I hadn’t been listening. My mind had been elsewhere. I’d been relatively silent throughout dinner, I realized then, which was totally out of character for me.

  “Hmmm?” I asked, turning to face her.

  “Grunge is playing at The Tavern tonight. Do you want to go?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, sort of feeling like I just wanted to go home. Ryan had texted to say he was still working and being the fifth wheel while hanging with Beckett and Julie wasn’t exactly fun for me, even if they were going to check out one of my favorite cover bands from college.

  Julie must have misread my hesitation, because she said, “Don’t worry, Courtney. I don’t really like the music they play either.”

  She smiled at me, and I wondered if she knew how much she’d just offended Beckett. He’d played guitar in Grunge all during college and was slightly addicted to the music they played which was heavy in alternative rock from the nineties. Through dating him, I’d fallen in love with the same music.

  “Oh,” I said. “It’s not that, I—”

  “Court loves Grunge,” Beckett said quickly, speaking up on my behalf, and not seeming the least bit fazed by Julie’s dig on his music. “She even sang with us a few times, right Court.”

  I felt myself blush, remembering the few times I’d gotten up on stage and sung with the band. They’d needed a female to sing lead, and Beckett had volunteered me. It had been fun, but I hadn’t done it in years. I’d lost touch with the guys when Beckett and I had broken up. He’d left the band when he’d moved back to Boston, and they’d replaced him with another guitarist. I’d seen them a few times since then, but I didn’t think they were as good without him.

  “Wow,” Julie said. “That’s so cool, Courtney. I can’t wait to hear you sing.”

  I leaned back from her at the mention of this. “Oh, no. I’m not singing,” I said quickly.

  “We’ll see about that,” Beckett said, challenging me slightly, his eyes gleaming. “I’m sure Matt will be amendable to adjusting the set for his favorite female vocalist.”

  I just shook my head at him, but at the same time, I was thinking, challenge accepted. Then I was glad I hadn’t said it out loud because I realized what a huge dork I was being in that moment, but all I was thinking was one point, Courtney, zero points, Julie. Not that we were competing or anything.

  “Did you guys know that Faneuil Hall is sometimes called ‘The Cradle of Liberty’?” Beckett asked our collective group, as we got out of the cab in front of Quincy Marketplace on our way to The Tavern, a favorite pub of ours that had been open since 1889.

  “Really?” Patrick said, feigning interest. I could tell he was only humoring his cousin.

  “Yeah,” Beckett continued, choosing to ignore Patrick’s hidden barb. “It’s because of the role it played during the American Revolution.”

  “That’s really interesting,” Julie said, as she put her arm around Beckett’s waist.

  I couldn’t tell if she was trying to win his favor or if she really thought his fun historical fact really was interesting. Either way, he was beaming at her comment. I rolled my eyes at them.

  Once we got inside the bar, we settled in at a table while the warm-up band was playing. They were okay, but not spectacular. They were doing a cover of ‘Kiss Off’ by Violent Femmes. We ordered two pitchers and settled in to listen.

  Julie left the table to go to the restroom and as soon as she was out of earshot, Patrick turned to Summer and said, “Summer, did you know that ‘Kiss Off’ is actually one of the most popular songs by Violent Femmes off their first album which was produced in 1983?” I noticed he was reading this information from his phone.

  Summer put her hand on her chest and said, “Why no, Patrick, I didn’t. My, are you smart. I think I’ll go home with you tonight and let you do dirty, dirty things to me.”

  Patrick, Summer and I burst out laughing while Beckett crossed his arms and shook his head at us.

  “It’s lame, dude,” Patrick said. “Julie’s a sucker if she falls for your historical bullshit.”

  “Hey, that’s interesting stuff, and Julie’s an academic. She appreciates my knowledge,” Beckett said, defiantly.

  “She just wants you to like her, so she’ll tell you what she thinks you want to hear,” I said. “I’m sure the only thing she cares about is whether the Banana Republic at Faneuil Hall is having a sale.”

  “Amen to that,” Summer said, reaching over to high-five me.

  “You guys suck,” Beckett said, and we all just smiled at him.

  Beckett busied himself pouring beers for everyone from the pitchers the waitress had set on the table. The funny thing was that we all knew Beckett wasn’t trying to get into Julie’s pants with his knowledge. He was truly sharing something he found to be interesting that he thought she might enjoy. It was slightly adorable. I kicked him under the table and smiled at him when he looked up. He grinned back at me, so I knew his feelings weren’t really hurt. He was used to getting teased by us for his ‘little known facts’.

  It was then that Matt, the lead singer of Grunge, came over to our table.

  “Hey man, long time,” Beckett said, getting up and giving him one of those handshake/hug things that guys do.

  “Lookin’ good, lookin’ good,” Matt said, and I could tell he was stoned.

  Matt was a serious musician, but he’d had a weed habit for as long as I’d known him. Similar to many musical geniuses, he churned out his best work when he was high. He was in two bands – one where he showcased his original music and Grunge, which paid the bills since they were booked more frequently. I’d heard his other band had just gotten picked up by a record label, though, so I wondered how much longer he’d do cover work.

  “Hey Matty,” I said, giving him a hug. I hadn’t seen him a while.

  “Courtney Love,” he said, using the nickname he’d called me since the first time we’d met, as he returned my hug. “You’re looking gorgeous as ever. I didn’t know you two were back together.”

  He looked between me and Beckett, and I saw his eyes fall to my left hand. My ring was hard to miss. He gave Beckett a look that I could easily read. Matt knew our story, so the fact that we were out together and there was a ring on my finger had him questioning if Beckett had failed to share some big news. Beckett shook his head slightly at Matt, a strained expression on his face.

  “We’re not together,” I said quickly.

  “Oh, well, congrats then,” Matt said to me.

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling my face flush. I wasn’t sure why I was embarrassed all of a sudden.

  “So you playing with us tonight, or what, man,” Matt said, turning back to Beckett.

  “No man, not tonight,” Beckett said, but I could tell he was itching to get back up on stage.

  “Aww, come on,” Matt said, grinning. “You can use one of my guitars. I know you love my old Fender. It’s backstage if you want to try it out. Don’t tell me you forgot how to play.”

  Beckett just laughed. “Hardly. Alright, I’ll do a few songs with you guys, but only if you can get Courtney up there too.”

  My eyes went wide, and my mouth dropped open. “Beckett,” I said, smacking him on the arm with the back of my hand.

  “Right on,” Matt said, turning to me. “It’s been way too long since you sang with us. You gotta do it.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, wondering if I could still get up in front of a crowd. Fear of embarrassment was shrouding my thoughts in that moment.

  “You know you want to,” Beckett whispered, his lips close to my ear, his breath on my cheek. It made me stomach flip.

  “Okay, fine,” I said, giving in to the peer pressure.

  “Right on,” Matt said. “Let us open
up, and we’ll get you guys up there for a few songs.”

  With that, he was gone, headed backstage, and I was left with nerves chewing at my stomach at the thought of what I’d just agreed to. Next to me Beckett was grinning as he animatedly told Julie all about his history with the band and some of the best shows they’d played. I could tell he missed playing and most likely regretted having to give it up when he’d moved to Boston for grad school, but he wasn’t like Matt and the other guys who would never use their college degrees, so music had to take the backburner for him.

  After the band opened up with a few classics, Matt asked Beckett to come up on stage. Beckett jumped out of his chair, the excitement bubbling out of him as he made his way up front. I could see some of the girls who were crowded around the stage whisper to each other and whoop as he took his place. Grunge had a good following, so some of the crowd might have remembered him as a former member. I could see the female population in the room take notice as he picked up Matt’s spare guitar and put the strap over his shoulder.

  “This is really exciting,” Julie said then, to no one in particular. “I didn’t even know he played.”

  It made me realize then that Julie and Beckett didn’t know each other very well at all, and for some reason, that thought was slightly satisfying. Even though he’d had his arm around her all night and had whispered things in her ear that made her smile, I still knew him better than she did.

  “Beck’s really good,” Patrick said, settling back in his chair and taking a drink of his beer. “If you don’t want to sleep with him now, you will after you see him play.”

  “Patrick,” Summer said, smacking Patrick’s arm as Julie blushed.

  “What?” he asked. “You see how every girl in this bar is drooling. I’m not wrong.”

  He was right, and his comment was justified when the decibel of the crowd increased as the band launched into a rendition of ‘State of Love and Trust’ by Pearl Jam. Girls were jumping up and down in front of the stage and screaming. After someone yelled, ‘I love you, Beckett!’ Patrick just gave us all a satisfied look, not humble about the fact that he’d been right. Beckett was a hot commodity.

  When the song ended, Matt stepped up to the mic and asked me to come up on stage. I knew it was coming, but it didn’t prevent me from holding my stomach as I got up from the table. I downed the rest of my beer before heading up front. As I looked up at the stage, Beckett was grinning at me, so I grinned right back, my nerves falling away just a bit.

  As I took the mic from Matt, I couldn’t help but wish I’d drank more that night. He let me know they were going to play ‘Celebrity Skin’ by Hole and ‘Seether’ by Veruca Salt, two songs I’d done plenty of times with them before. The fear of worrying I’d forget the lyrics or flub a line was fresh in my brain as I nodded that I was good with those choices, but as soon as the music started, I fell back into that comfortable rhythm of something I’d done so many times in the past.

  As I got to the halfway point in ‘Seether’, Beckett came up next to me to play. I leaned toward him as I sung and he grinned at me and winked. I smiled back at a break the song. When he hit a longer guitar riff, he moved to the edge of the stage to the increased screams of the girls jumping up and down in front of us. I just smiled and shook my head before launching into the next lyrics.

  When the song ended, Matt thanked us for coming up and the crowd cheered vigorously – mostly for Beckett I was sure, but I took the applause anyway, bowing slightly. Beckett pulled me into a big hug on stage, crushing me to him.

  “You were awesome,” he said, slightly out of breath.

  “Back at you,” I said, feeling the rush of adrenaline I got from performing for crowd as I smiled at him.

  Beckett slung his arm around me as we made our way back to our table. Our friends were clapping for us as we approached, and it took me a second to realize that there were four of them instead of three. Ryan had finally gotten away from work. He was clapping slowly, his eyes on me, not smiling. I pulled Beckett’s arm off of me and walked over to him. He looked tired and rumpled in his suit, his tie loosened around his neck.

  “Hi babe,” I said, moving to put my arms around his neck and give him a kiss. “What did you think?”

  “You were great,” he said flatly, as he let me kiss him quickly before moving my arms off of him.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, as I took the seat next to him. “Bad day?”

  “Bad night,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Oh, that sucks. You’ll have to tell me about it later,” I said, turning toward my friends.

  “You guys rocked,” Patrick said, hitting me up with a high-five.

  I slammed it back to him. “We always did.”

  “Yeah,” Beckett said, “we were always awesome together.”

  With that he shot me a pointed look that gave much more meaning to his words and made me realize he was definitely still harboring some feelings for me. I had been talking about our on-stage skills, but it seemed he was thinking along different lines. Beside me I felt Ryan stiffen. He’d heard the double-meaning in Beckett’s words. I just smiled at everyone like I was blissfully ignorant.

  “Yeah, Beck. You and I, we’re the grunge rock dream team,” I said sarcastically. I didn’t think anyone bought it, but I felt a little better in saying it.

  Five minutes later, after the band took a break, I felt Ryan stand up. I looked over at him thinking if he was going to the bar, he could order me another drink. Our waitress had been less than attentive since we’d arrived.

  “I’m going to head home,” he said.

  “Oh, okay, well, I’ll come with you,” I said, figuring we could at least spend some of the night together. “Can we go to my place, though? Gryffin’s been alone since I took him out at three, so I don’t want to leave him alone much longer.”

  “Sure,” Ryan said, as I said goodbye to everyone and followed him outside.

  I realized once we walked away from the table that he and Beckett never got to talk, and we’d probably have to orchestrate another night for him to realize that Beckett was just a friend, especially since he’d never believe it after the comment Beckett had made about us.

  As soon as we were out the door, Ryan turned to me. “Go back inside,” he said.

  “No, it’s fine. I want to be with you.”

  He sighed audibly.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” I asked, putting my hand on his arm.

  “You’re so fucking blind,” he said, catching me off-guard.

  “Excuse me?” I said, taking a step back from him.

  “You’re little show in there. You and him. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

  “Ryan, we’re just friends,” I said, wondering how flirty Beckett and I had gotten on stage.

  “You’re lying to yourself if you think he has no feelings for you,” he said.

  “Stop it, Ryan. Nothing’s going on. He’s a friend. That girl, Julie,” I said, gesturing back to the bar, “they’re dating.”

  “Well, then she’s a really stupid girl,” he said.

  “Stop it. You’re being rude. You don’t even know them. You need to back off.”

  Ryan took a step back from me. He put his hands up in surrender. “Court, I’m going to go home now. I think you should stay with your friends.”

  “But, Ryan,” I said, but he didn’t let me finish.

  “I need some time.”

  My stomach jumped into my throat. “For what?”

  “To think – about us. I don’t know if this is working,” he said.

  “But we’re engaged,” I said, suddenly feeling the urge to claim my engagement for the first time. I held up my left hand to show him the ring he’d given me.

  “I know,” he said, and he couldn’t have sounded sadder. “I’m just kind of starting to wonder why you said yes.”

  “Because I love you,” I said, hearing the panic in my voice. I reached out to Ryan, but he shrugged me off. “Ryan
, stop it. There’s nothing going on with me and Beckett. If you’d stopped for one second to get to know him, you’d see he’s not interested in me. That’s just how we are with each other. We’re playful. It’s harmless.”

  We were starting to make a scene. People walking by rubbernecked as they tried to listen to our fight as they passed.

  “That girl he was with didn’t seem to think so. You should have seen her face when you guys were up there flirting with each other. If I gave a shit about her, I might be empathetic, but right now I’m more concerned that my fiancé isn’t all that serious about marrying me.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “Ryan, I told you I’m not ready to get married yet. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you and don’t want to be with you. You have to trust me,” I said, pleading with him to understand.

  Ryan sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, “but it feels like we’ve been doing it an awful lot since he came back into your life.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You have to trust me,” I insisted again. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  He shook his head. “If you want out, just let me know. I don’t want this to go any further if it’s not what you want.”

  My eyes filled with tears, and I rushed toward him. I threw my arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to keep him from walking away from me.

  “Ryan, stop it,” I said through my sobs. “I don’t want out. Please stop saying things like that. It makes me think you want out. Do you?”

  Here it was – the other shoe. It was finally dropping, and it was falling right on my head.

  Ryan pulled my arms out from around his neck.

  “I’ll call you once I’ve sorted a few things out, okay,” he said, and I realized too late that he hadn’t answered my question.

  Great heaving sobs raked my body as he walked to the curb and hailed a cab. The magnitude of how he was feeling hit me, and I was suddenly afraid I might lose him. As I watched him leave me alone on the sidewalk for the second time in a week, the tears ran down my cheeks in rivers.