Amplified

by Tara Kelly

  He shut his eyes. “Jasmine…that’s not—”

  “Don’t deny it.”

  “We started to, but I—”

  I held my hand up. “So that’s a yes.”

  He leaned against the hood and exhaled, keeping his head down. “I’m sorry.”

  Was it that easy for him to be with her again? “It’s not like we have anything real. We just mess around, right?”

  “You know it’s more than that,” he said softly.

  Dad always told me to look for answers in actions, not words.

  I faced him. “No, actually, I don’t.” He couldn’t even lift his head, much less look me in the eye. “After what she did to you—I thought…I thought you were stronger than this.”

  A burst of air escaped his lips. “You talk like this is easy. Like you have a clue what it’s like to…”

  “To what? Be in love?”

  He focused on a car moving down the street. “Yeah.”

  “She cheated on you with your best friend—and you call that love?” I shook my head. “You’re an idiot.”

  He finally faced me, his jaw tensing. “Look, I fucked up—I admit that. But I did stop.”

  “Oh, congratulations! You want a medal?” My fists clenched. Part of me wanted to hurt him, make him feel like I did inside.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be like you. Okay, Ice Queen? I’m sorry I feel something.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He leaned toward me, his face inches from mine. “When was the last time you let yourself feel much of anything, Jasmine?”

  I sucked in my breath, pulling back. My eyes burned and my lips felt melded together. But I couldn’t run. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Look how far it’s gotten you. You’re a mess.”

  He inched closer. “So are you.”

  The front door opened and a chorus of voices echoed across the yard. Ajay, Nile, and Zia came out, discussing the mating behavior of banana slugs.

  “They, like, chew each other’s dicks off,” Ajay said. The others made faces and groaned.

  “Dude, why do you even know that?” Nile asked.

  Sean sighed and moved away from me. We both waved and said bye. Ajay and Zia waved back but thankfully kept walking.

  Nile grinned at me. “Talk to you tomorrow,” he said before catching up with the others.

  “Tomorrow?” Sean asked, his voice wary.

  “He wants me to collaborate on a side project with him. So he’s going to call, I guess.”

  Sean tipped his head back. “That’s a classic musician’s pickup line.”

  “He said he really liked my style. It’s what he’s been looking for.”

  “And you bought that?”

  “Why would Nile have to lie? The guy has groupies coming out of his ears.”

  “Because you’re a challenge,” he said.

  “I’m a good guitar player—why can’t it be about that?”

  He shrugged. “The way he was leaning all over you should be a clue it’s not.”

  “It was noisy in there.” The idea that Nile could want me, like that, was ridiculous. I wasn’t the kind of girl regular guys noticed, much less rock-star types.

  “Think what you want. But guys have pulled that shit with Amy a few times.”

  “Gee, that’s shocking.”

  His brow crinkled. “Meaning?”

  “She practically asks for it. She’s a sl—” I stopped myself. Despite my anger toward Amy, that was fifty different kinds of wrong. “I—I didn’t mean that.”

  Sean moved in front of me. “You sure?”

  I closed my eyes and let out a breath. “All I’m saying is, I’m not Amy. You can’t compare me with her.”

  “It happened to Veta once too. Did she ask for it?”

  “What? No!”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why do you think you’re so above everyone else?”

  “I don’t!”

  “You’ve got this sense of entitlement—because you’re the holier-than-thou Jasmine Kiss. You never make mistakes, right?”

  “That’s complete bullshit.” I held back the urge to shove him, my hands shaking. He thought he knew me, but he didn’t. Not even close. “I’m sorry for what I said. But don’t try and ease your guilt by turning this all on me.”

  “Why should I feel guilty? We don’t have anything real, right?” His voice matched his words. Cold.

  I thought of a million horrible things I could say, but why bother? His mind was made up. “I was really starting to like you. I was starting to think that you…that we could…”

  He folded his arms. “Could what?”

  I looked away, my nails digging into my palms. “Be friends.”

  “Friends…”

  “But it’ll never happen.” I pushed past him and headed into the house, swallowing the lump in my throat. I was done. So done.

  Chapter 18

  Nile called just after three. Luckily, the shop was dead—Tina was dealing with another visit from Regina Price and her online dating troubles, and Veta was reading a magazine on the couch.

  Veta looked up at me, grinning. “Jason?”

  I shook my head and answered. “Hi…”

  “What’s up?” Nile asked. His voice sounded deep and strange on the phone. I couldn’t believe he was actually calling. Part of me figured he’d forget or change his mind.

  Veta cocked her head and mouthed “Who?” I turned away, leaning against the front counter. I hadn’t told her about Nile or Sean yet. “Not much—I’m at work.”

  “Oh. You need me to call back?”

  “It’s fine.” Gee, I was a great conversationalist.

  “I was thinking—maybe we could do this tonight. My friend bailed on me, so I’ll just be hanging around.”

  To night? Oh man. I was hoping for Tuesday or Friday since I had those days off work. “Uh, well, we have band practice…”

  “Okay?” He sounded almost insulted.

  “But maybe I could check out early.” I looked over my shoulder at Veta. She raised a wary eyebrow in response. “Like, what time were you thinking?”

  “That depends if you need a ride or not—I live over the hill in San Jose.”

  “We’re going to do it at your place?” For some reason, I’d pictured a studio—maybe the one Luna’s Temptation rehearsed in.

  “Oh, this is getting good,” Veta said.

  “Yeah.” Nile laughed. “Where’d you think?”

  “I, um, didn’t know.” I lowered my voice. “Anyway, I have a car.”

  “Great—well, I’m usually up pretty late. Give me a call after practice and I’ll give you directions.”

  “Sounds good. Do I need to bring an amp or anything?”

  “Nah,” he said. “It’s covered.”

  We said our good-byes and hung up.

  When I turned around, Veta was curled over the counter, her elbows resting on the glass. “Explain…”

  “Nile Morel wants me to play guitar for a side project he’s working on.”

  Veta’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

  “Way.” I felt like I should’ve been more excited. But my thoughts kept going back to Sean.

  “And you didn’t tell me about this immediately because…?”

  I crinkled my nose. “I wasn’t sure he’d call.”

  She smirked. “Does he know you’re only seventeen?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “You should tell him. Just in case he has other ideas.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You sound like Sean.”

  She straightened and shrugged. “Hey, my brother has the psychic gene—even more than me. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “Whatever—he doesn’t know everything.”

  Veta gave me her intense squint. “You two had a fight, didn’t you?”

  “He told you.”

  “Give me a little credit, will ya? You’ve been moping around all day and your energy
went all oogy when you said his name.”

  I laughed. “Oogy? Do you use terms like that when you give readings?”

  She folded her arms. “Of course. So what happened?”

  I told her everything, including what I said about Amy—which made her wince. “And the thing is, I tossed and turned all night, trying to hate him. But I can’t. I’ve never felt like this.”

  Her expression softened. “Oh, babe…”

  “I’m pathetic, right?”

  She sighed. “You know what kills me? In a different situation, you and Sean would be great together. Seriously, I’d be thrilled to see him date a girl like you.”

  “Really?”

  She scrunched up her face. “You should’ve seen some of the girls he crushed on before Amy.”

  “What were they like?”

  “Amy.”

  I looked down at my clasped hands. Why didn’t that surprise me?

  Tina and Regina Price walked out from behind one of the dividers. Regina was digging through her large pink bag and babbling about a guy named Thomas. Tina kept nodding and moving her along.

  “All I’ve got are small bills—wouldn’t you know it?” Regina asked. “I had to break my twenty today, because the diner raised their price on the Sunrise Special. After two years, mind you. Can you believe that?”

  “That’s just fine, Regina. Don’t stress.” Tina cast us a look that said “Help me.”

  Veta covered her smile, her eyes flicking to me.

  “All right, well…” Regina slowly placed the bills in Tina’s hand, counting each one aloud. Then they hugged and Regina made her way out, still rifling through her bag.

  Tina let out a long sigh after the door shut. “I need a meditation just to prepare for her visits.” She walked over and handed me Regina’s money. “So, what are you ladies talking about?”

  Veta grinned and flicked her long red hair over her shoulder. “Sean and Jasmine’s torrid affair, of course.”

  “Veta,” I hissed, putting the money in the register.

  “What?” She gave me innocent eyes. “Mom already knows.”

  I covered my face. “Oh…my God.” Did she have to tell Tina everything?

  Tina put a hand on my shoulder, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I like you a lot better than Amy.”

  “Great.” I gave her a tight smile. This was so awkward.

  “He hooked up with Amy last night,” Veta said, like she was talking about anyone.

  I wondered if Sean had any idea his mother and sister discussed his sex life. Maybe that was why he moved out.

  Tina’s mouth dropped and she said something in Spanish. It didn’t sound good. She shook her head at me. “Obviously I need to talk to him. Again.”

  “Please, don’t,” I said. “I mean, he said they stopped. Or didn’t finish—or whatever.”

  “Ew, Jasmine.” Veta held her hand up. “TMI.”

  Was she serious? “Um, sorry.” I faced Tina. “So—you hate Amy?”

  Tina exhaled. “I don’t. But she’s got major issues to work out. And she won’t be good to anyone until she does. And Sean—he takes on too much, you know? That boy can be like a sponge.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I said, looking down.

  Tina patted me on the back, giving me a sympathetic smile. “What can I say? Boys, men—sometimes they need a Mack truck to give them a clue.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered.

  Practice was long. Way too long. And Sean refused even to look at me. I tried to add life to my playing by reminding myself that I’d be at Nile Morel’s place soon, taking advantage of a huge opportunity. I mean, the guy had loads of fans. What if he put our tracks up? People all over the world would hear me—maybe even know my name.

  “Can someone tell me why we suck tonight?” Bryn asked. We’d just finished “Encryption,” the bane of my existence, apparently. “Jasmine, you’re playing like your dog died. And Sean, you’re all over the place. What the fuck, man?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m a little distracted.”

  “Me too,” Sean muttered, keeping his head down.

  Bryn threw his hands in the air. “We’ve got less than a week, guys! Now isn’t the time to go all emo.”

  “Jasmine has good reason,” Veta said, turning to face us. “She’s going to Nile Morel’s tonight.”

  Bryn stuck a drumstick behind his ear, giving Veta a perplexed look. “That’s…interesting.”

  Sean’s head perked up, and his eyes met mine.

  “I’m just doing some guitar work for him,” I said, avoiding his stare.

  “Whoa!” Felix said, grinning at me. “That’s so cool. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, shit,” Bryn said. “What are you still doing here? It’s after eight.”

  “I didn’t want to miss practice?”

  “Get out of here,” he said. “And talk us up. A lot. Just don’t run off and start a new band with him or anything.”

  I rolled my eyes, lifting my guitar strap over my head. “Yeah, right.” I guess I should’ve taken it as a compliment that Bryn worried—even jokingly.

  “See if you can get any info out of him about the tour,” Felix said, his eyes excited. “Like who else they’re considering.”

  “Please don’t do that,” Bryn said.

  I packed my purple guitar in its case. “I won’t.”

  “Have a blast,” Sean said, his voice low and tense.

  I faced him, taking in the hard look in his eyes. “Thanks. I will.” As I walked out the door, part of me wondered if he’d come after me—tell me not to go or something lame. But this wasn’t a sappy Hollywood movie. And Sean had way too much pride to be that guy.

  Driving Highway 17 felt like a video game, with its sharp turns and endless walls of trees. The orange glow of Bay Area lights shone in the distance after I drove over the Summit and crossed the Santa Clara county line. It was weird to be on this side of the line again and not prepare to merge onto 85 and go north toward Dad’s.

  I got off at the Hamilton Avenue exit and headed toward Bascom. Fortunately, I was pretty familiar with the area. Nile said he lived right near Streetlight Records, a music store Jason and I haunted all through high school.

  Nile’s duplex looked nice enough—well kept but dated, like most of the places around here. He probably paid $1500 a month in rent easy—unless he owned it. Music throbbed behind his brown door, a thick, industrial beat and screechy synthesizers. I was afraid to interrupt something. Hell, I was afraid even to be standing here. But this was my chance—to get my guitar playing out there. To learn something from a successful musician. There was so much I wanted to ask Nile. If I wasn’t careful, I’d probably pick his brain for hours.

  I took a deep breath and slammed my knuckles into the door.

  Nile answered, towel-drying his wet hair. Where was his shirt? “You made it.” He grinned, opening his door wide and moving aside. “I was afraid you’d get lost and call while I was in the shower.”

  “Nope.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and stepped inside. A sweet-smelling incense overwhelmed the faded stench of cigarettes, and a guy with a giant blond ’fro was camped out on the couch. He appeared to be playing video games. “Did your friend decide to show up after all?” I asked.

  “Nah,” Nile said. “That’s Marty, our professional couch surfer. He can fix any instrument known to man.”

  Marty nodded at me. “’Sup, baby girl?”

  “Hi.” I tried to smile, but my heart hammered. Something about Marty creeped me out.

  Nile moved in front of me and extended his arm toward an open door. “Step into my office. I’m going to locate a shirt.”

  “Okay.” I let out a nervous laugh and walked past him. He shut the door behind me.

  The room had a velvety red couch, a long desk with two wide-screen monitors, two keyboards, and a variety of recording gear—the kind I could only dream about owning. A Fender bass and a black Gibson h
ung on the wall. God, I was really here—in Nile Morel’s studio. Pinching myself didn’t make it disappear.

  I plopped onto the couch, setting my guitar case in front of me. The walls were lined with posters, concert stubs, and signed pictures of topless women. One read lick me. xoxo morrigan. Gross.

  Fast food bags, mainly from Taco Bell, covered the floor around the desk, and there was a giant green stain in the middle of the brown carpet. A couple of open prescription bottles lay near an overflowing trash can, along with what appeared to be a stuffed unicorn. Interesting.

  I waited for at least fifteen minutes, listening to the muffled sounds out in the living room. It was mostly Marty groaning or cussing. Sometimes there’d be a loud thump. I never got people who took video games that seriously.

  Another five minutes went by. Did he forget I was in here? I checked my phone. 9:32. I really didn’t want to drive home any later than midnight. Highway 17 was brutal enough when I was fully awake. But it was okay. It gave me time to calm myself and think of questions to ask.

  Finally, the door opened and Nile breezed in wearing a black thermal shirt and vinyl pants. His long brown hair had been swept back in a ponytail, and it looked almost like he was wearing foundation. But maybe it was the yellowish lighting in here.

  He plopped onto his computer chair, rubbing his temples like he had a headache. “Man, my ex is the biggest bitch.”

  That seemed to be going around lately. I folded my arms. “Oh, I’m…sorry?”

  He leaned forward, lighting a cigarette. Indoor smoke always made my throat tickle, but what could I do? Ask him not to smoke in his own room?

  “Get this.” He blew out a trail of smoke and tossed his lighter onto his desk. “I cosigned on a car loan for her ’cause her credit blows. She suckered me into it.”

  I nodded, hoping confusion didn’t show on my face. I didn’t know much about loans or the real world, but how did one get suckered into signing a loan document?

  “Well, guess who calls me last week?” he continued. “Her fuckin’ creditor going, hey, we haven’t received payment since March.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said. Why was he telling me this?

  “She just now calls me back—after a week of me trying to get ahold of her. I’m, like, what the hell is going on? And she says, ‘I replied to your e-mail.’” His voice went up an octave. “And I said, ‘What reply? I didn’t get it.’ She goes, ‘I just sent it five minutes ago. Go check it.’” He took a deep drag. “So, I said, ‘No, we’re gonna talk about this now. You need to get this shit paid. They’re trashing my credit.’ And she goes, ‘Well, I’m trying to sell the car.’” He threw his hands in the air. “What the fuck?”