by Susan Ward
“I’ll have a rum and coke,” Teri says enthusiastically.
After dropping two napkins on our table, the waitress quickly moves on.
“You don’t drink?” Teri asks.
I crinkle my nose. “Not that much. And I’m the one driving tonight.”
Teri nods, as if she’s only just remembering that I drove us here. “That was nice of Neil to buy us drinks.”
She says it as if it means something significant for her. She’s a sweet girl, cute, a little obvious in her guy craziness, but I don’t think Teri has a chance with Neil. I don’t see him with a bubbly, cute kind of girl. But what do I know. Maybe Teri is exactly Neil’s type.
“He’s a nice guy,” I say, a touch surprised by my recent change of opinion of him. I never thought I would ever be friends with Neil Stanton. Are we friends? Strange. I don’t know what we are.
As we wait for our drinks, Teri launches into a strategy conversation about how she should go about making it happen with Neil. Jeez, this girl has got it bad for him. The way she talks about him is very intense, and a little creepy. I wonder if Teri is still a virgin. Maybe that’s why she’s so over-the top in the wanting to pursue a guy thing. I was sort of like this when I first met Alan. Unsure and obsessed and stumbling over every other phrase.
I shake my head. Stop it, Chrissie. Don’t circle back every thought to Alan. Everything should not be a one way trip to Alan-ville. Let it go already. It’s over. Done. Past.
Shortly after our drinks arrive, there’s a break in the music, and then I see Neil on stage, readying to play. Once Teri sees him, she swivels around in her chair, eyes fixed on him like a hawk, and I’m immediately forgotten.
I half expected him to look over at me, smile or do something, but he doesn’t. He’s tunnel-focused on his discussion with the bass player.
I study him. He looks good on stage. There is something very different about Neil, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. It’s more than how good looking he is. He has a casualness mixed with sort of a shyness that pulls you in.
I wonder what he sounds like when he sings. Neil is like a still-water pond. No highs, no lows, just always rolling with the flow. His speaking voice is serene, pleasantly calm. I like his voice. It’s sexy in its mildly husky quietness, its lack of forcefulness in delivery.
A flush rises to my cheeks. Sexy? Did I just call Neil Stanton sexy? I shake my head and swallow down a gulp of my sparkling water.
The rest of the band comes running back on stage and, without fanfare or even an introduction, Neil begins to play. The entire chemistry of the room changes. An intense assault of music, and then there’s his voice. Raw. Raspy. Perfectly modulated. Perfect pitch. Velvety in an emotion-jarring blend of angst and sorrow, running with music that is a mixture of grunge and pure rock.
I’m pulled in before the first bridge and Neil never once looks out at the audience. He’s in his own zone beneath his unruly waves of chestnut hair. I kind of assumed he was just another hopeful, wannabe rocker, with a band destined to go nowhere. But no. He howls on the guitar. His voice is seductive and unique. He’s an artist, and by the end of his set he’s blown me away.
Who would have thought Neil Stanton would be incredible on stage?
When his set is done, Neil doesn’t say anything to the crowd, he just unplugs and leaves. A few minutes later, he lumbers out of the back, his guitar case in hand. He runs a hand through his damp hair, brushing the shoulder length waves back over his shoulder. Sweat glistens on his tan forearms and makes his black t-shirt cling to his chest. For a guy who just put on a killer set, he doesn’t look amped. He’s just calm, quiet Neil.
He stops at our table, but doesn’t sit down. Teri’s eyes are huge in her face as she stares up at him.
“You were awesome, Neil,” she exclaims. She’s gushing again.
Neil gives her a polite smile and gestures towards my glass. “What is that, Chrissie?” he asks.
“Just water.” He takes my glass and then downs half of what’s in it. My eyes round as my head tilts to the side. “Thank you for asking, Neil. Or do you just make it a habit of drinking other people’s drinks?”
He gives me a strange look, part exasperated, part amused, and part something I can’t identify. “We’ve kissed, Chrissie. Drinking from your glass isn’t more intimate than that.”
My entire face reddens. I don’t know which disturbs me more. That Neil remembers our kiss at Peppers, that he mentioned it, or that Teri is now pissed at me.
Neil stares down at me. “You did drive here, didn’t you?”
My eyes round. “Yep.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“You don’t want to hang out for a while?” I ask, confused by his manner.
He smiles. “No. I’d rather be someplace quiet with you.”
What the heck is happening here? Neil is a tough guy to read. He’s definitely unpredictable at times, but this…?
I stare at him. “Are we going to your place or mine?” I ask flippantly.
“We can figure that out on the drive,” he says, and before I know what he’s doing he’s leaning into me, putting a full mouth kiss on my lips. My body freezes, startled, and I’m a touch breathless when he pulls back.
More flustered than I care to be, I turn to Teri. “You want to cut out?”
Oh my—the look she gives me is not at all good. If stares were knives, I’d be bleeding now.
“Fine,” she says, short, clipped, and decidedly not bubbly.
Neil finishes my drink. When I stand, he takes my hand and starts to guide me through the club in that this girl’s with me proprietary way. I peek over my shoulder. Teri is following behind. Scowling at my back.
I lean into Neil. “What is happening here?”
“I’ll explain later,” he replies, hushed voice. “I did you a favor in Santa Barbara. I did you another one tonight, getting you into the club. I figure you owe me one. Be a really, really cool girl and just follow my lead.”
I scrunch my nose at his embarrassing habit of quoting me back to me—really, really cool…God, that was lame of me—but I nod.
“Thanks,” he says.
A few minutes later we’re in front of the club. He stares down the street. “Which way is the car?” he asks.
I tug on his hand. “This way.”
We’re almost to the corner when someone calls Teri’s name. She turns and waves, looking instantly awash with relief. There is a large group of girls across the street, calling out her name and gesturing for her. I wonder if those are the same friends who ditched her earlier tonight.
“Hey, my friends are here. I’m going to cut out. See you in class next week, Chrissie,” she says quickly.
“Thanks for inviting me out tonight. It was fun.”
She gives me a hard stare, doesn’t reply, and is across the street in a flash.
Alone with Neil, I continue onward toward my car. “Since I’m pretty sure you’ve cost me the first friend I’ve made this semester, do you want to explain to me what is going on?”
Neil releases my hand and fishes in his pocket for his cigarettes.
“You should thank me,” he says in irritation. “You don’t want that girl as your friend. There is something seriously wrong with her.”
My eyes round. “Oh really? How would you know?”
Neil shakes his head in aggravation. “Because Teri is a fucking stalker. Her circle of friends isn’t much better. They’re in my face all day while I work. They don’t take no for an answer. I’m getting really sick of the co-ed play with the janitor bullshit.”
Really? He’s upset because a whole bunch of girls thinks he’s hot and wants to date him? I erupt into laughter. “Poor, Neil. It’s rough being the super-hot janitor.”
I’m laughing so hard tears are streaming down my face.
Neil stops. “No, it’s not rough. It’s a pain in the ass. They fuck with me so much, it’s going to cost me my job. Teri got me written up
the second week of classes. Always hanging around. Trying to chat me up. One of the professors noticed it and informed my supervisor. I can’t lose my job, Chrissie. I don’t want to get into it, but it would seriously fuck up my life to lose my job.”
The fierceness of his voice sobers me instantly. I stop laughing. My laughter-flushed cheeks suddenly feel unpleasant. He’s very serious and very intense right now. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Losing your job. That’s not funny. You’re right.”
He sighs. “Thank you.”
“So what was all that ‘someplace quiet, kiss me’ stuff back at the club?”
Neil rakes a hand through his hair. “I figured if they thought I had a girlfriend, Teri and her clique might let up a little. It’s worth a shot. Talking to them doesn’t work. Ignoring them doesn’t work. Maybe if they thought I was unavailable they’ll go away finally.”
Suspicion leaps through my veins, followed by anger. “Is that why you’ve been nice to me? Making sure we ran into each other here. Popping up out of nowhere. You want them to think I’m your girlfriend so they back off?”
His expression tells me he knows how lame that sounds. “Not entirely. I like hanging out with you. You’re different than most girls. No drama. No bullshit. I figure if it also helps get rid of Teri, what’s the harm.”
My eyes widen in surprise. I’m a tad less angry with him. I fish in my pocket for my keys. I stop at my car and unlock the doors.
“A Volvo?” Neil teases.
Jeez, why does everyone say that? “Rene and I drove it across the country. My dad wanted us in something safe.”
He shrugs. “It’s a nice one. Top of the line. 760. Turbo. Leather. Fully loaded. Even if it is a Volvo.”
I roll my eyes. What is it with guys knowing everything about cars, even Volvos?
“Where am I dropping you?” I ask.
“Just drop me at your place. I can walk from there.”
OK, so why doesn’t he want me to take him home? What’s up with that? I sink down into the driver’s seat, close the door, and buckle my seatbelt. Neil settles in the front beside me.
I’m about to put the key in the ignition.
“I want you to know, I’m not using you,” he says, quiet and sincere.
My lids go wide. “Did I say something?”
His green eyes fix intently on my face. “Just so we’re clear. I hang out with you because you’re OK. I wouldn’t if I didn’t think that you were an OK girl.”
I turn the key and put the car in gear. “Wow. I’m OK. It’s exactly what us girls hope to be.”
He gives me a stare, shakes his head, rolls down the window and lights a cigarette in my car without asking. I should probably say something, but I don’t. Rene smokes in it too when she borrows it. She doesn’t think I know. And it is definitely not as bad as knowing she’s had sex in both the Volvo and my dad’s car.
Neil sits beside me, quietly smoking, staring out at the city lights as we cross the Bay Bridge. Jeez, he’s a frustrating guy and really hard to read. He’s full of coded messages, 24/7. That last one says friends; don’t expect more. I wonder what Neil has going on in the girl department. I can understand him not being interested in Teri and her mob. Even working as a music department janitor, he’s so out of their league.
Some guys have it. Some guys don’t. Neil Stanton was born a babe magnet.
We’re almost back to Berkeley, when I smile and say, “Just so you know, Neil, I’m not using you either. I’m letting you ride in the Volvo because I think you’re OK.”
CHAPTER THREE
The practice room door opens and in pops Neil’s face.
“Do you mind if I crash in here and eat my lunch?”
I look up from my book. “Why do you ask? You always ask and I always say yes. Knock yourself out, Neil. The floor is all yours.”
He crosses the room and settles on the ground with his legs stretched out crossed in front of him, and his back against the wall. He sets his bag beside him and pulls out a sandwich.
“What are you reading?” He starts unwrapping his sandwich.
I don’t look up. “History of the 60s. I have a final tomorrow.”
Neil laughs. “Considering who your dad is you probably don’t have to read that. I bet you know more about the 60s than the professor. Why bother?”
I smile and don’t answer. I bother because I’m nearly failing this class.
I try to return my focus to my book. He takes from his bag a container of orange juice and starts to shake it. I don’t know why, but it’s impossible to study whenever Neil is here. I slap the text book shut and shove it back into my bag.
He pulls off the top of the juice and takes a long swallow. “How many instruments do you play?”
“Six.”
“Do you play the violin?”
“Yep.” What’s with the twenty questions today? Neil hardly ever asks me anything about me.
He reaches into his bag, removes some chips, and rips them open. “I’m working on some new material. I’ve been laying down the tracks for a demo. Some of the music tracks I’m recording. I thought I might want to put strings on one if you’re up for that.”
That he asks me surprises me. He’s never even heard me play. He doesn’t even know if I’m good.
“Sure. Why not. Just let me know when and where.”
He lifts his keys from his belt and gives them a shake. “Keys to everything. It’s an afterhours thing. Way afterhours. The rooms here don’t usually clear out until nearly midnight.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get caught?”
He shakes his head. “I know my way around this campus better than you do.”
I roll my eyes.
He laughs. Then he gives a quizzical stare. “Why are you at Berkeley? Why study music? Why don’t you try to get something going for yourself? Record.”
I shrug. I did record once. With Alan. I push that thought from my mind and say, “I’m thinking I might want to teach music. My dad has a foundation for children in South Central LA. I’ll probably work there once I graduate. I figured I should know what I’m doing before I try to teach children.”
“Might. Probably. Doesn’t sound to me like you know what you want to do or why you’re here.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, then says, “I spent one summer at your dad’s foundation. Scholarship. I was twelve. It was a fucking unbelievable summer program. Never met Jack though. Some of the other kids did. Not me.” He shakes his head. “Rich people. Only rich people get over-priced educations so they can take a job that doesn’t pay anything.”
I make a face at him. “Teaching is an important profession.”
“Teaching for free is a hobby.” He shoves the wrapping from his sandwich into his bag. “Jared asked about us.”
I flush. Jared has shown some interest in me, but he hardly speaks to me, for all Neil said a month ago that Jared was working his way up to asking me out. I’ve been thinking I’d go if Jared asks, but he never asks.
“What did he want to know?” I inquire, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Wanted to know if you were available.”
My eyes widen. “What did you tell him?”
Neil shrugs. “I told him the truth. We’re just friends.”
For some reason I’m a little irritated with that. I change course in the conversation and ask, “How are things with Teri and her Sterns Hall posse?”
He gives me a pained stare, his head tilting just enough to one side to make him look really adorable.
“She’s pretty much leaving me alone these days. I think all of them have gotten the picture I’m not interested. Thank god. It was a real pain in the ass.”
I’m curious. I debate with myself whether to ask. Neil makes no sense. “Don’t you date?”
“Nope.”
I don’t know what to make of that. It seems weird. Very strange. He’s a really good looking guy. A little full of himself. Definitely talented. Nice. But he doesn’t date. W
henever he tells me that I always find it strange. But what the heck, I don’t date either. Maybe we’re both weirdoes. Maybe that’s why we hang out together.
He crumples into a ball the remains of his lunch and tosses it into the trash can across the room. He springs to his feet. I’m a little disappointed he’s leaving.
“That was a fast lunch. Why don’t you hang for a while? I’ve got the room another half hour,” I say.
He pulls his cigarettes from his pocket. “Got to be back to work in fifteen minutes. Got just enough time for a fast smoke.”
I follow him with my eyes as he moves to the door.
“I’ll let you know if I decide I want to put strings on some of the tracks,” he announces.
“Aren’t you even a little worried about how I play? You’ve never heard me play.”
Neil shakes his head as if annoyed with me. “I’ve heard you play both the piano and the cello. I’ve also heard you sing during your labs with Jared. I used to make it a point to sweep outside your practice room. You’re good. Real good. I’m not worried you’re going to suck with the violin. You seem to do all things musical really well.”
That compliment makes me feel more pleased than I ever expected to and, in surprise, I realize it is fast starting to matter what Neil thinks of me.
Instead of thanking him, I accuse, “Stalker.”
Neil rolls his eyes and opens the door. “See ya, Chrissie.”
~~~
A week later, I slap shut my bluebook, check to make sure I’ve put my name on the front with the correct course code, and then tuck my pencil into my purse. I drop my final exam happily into the basket on Professor Lambert’s desk. I’ve made it through my first set of finals. Done, that was it, and now I won’t ever have to think of Lambert again.
I gather up my things, hurry up the aisle, and smile at Jared, who’s sitting in the last row of the lecture hall. When I go to push open the door, I realize that somehow he’s moved from his seat and is there to open it for me.
I step into the hallway and Jared follows.
He smiles. “Glad that it’s over?”