Summer

by Frankie Rose

  “What the fuck?” Cole cranes his neck forward, blinking wildly at her. “What the fuck are you talking about—a group of guys who hate women? We love women. Me, especially.”

  Marika grunts, scowling, her beautiful face turned ugly. “You love fucking them, maybe. Using them for sex isn’t the same as respecting them as people and as musicians. And those two,” she spits, stabbing her finger at Pete and Paul “Those two are clearly gay.”

  Pete lets out a single bark of laughter. Cole turns to stare at Pete and Paul, and then he shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah. Of course they are. What of it? Does that make them misogynists?”

  “Our best friends are both women,” Paul says. “We couldn’t hate women less.”

  I’m reeling a little from the news that Pete and Paul are gay and are, in fact, in a relationship together—how the fuck did I miss that?—but it doesn’t matter. If they’re happy and they love each other then what the fuck does it matter if they’re both the same sex? Marika looks bored by the way the conversation is developing, though. She narrows her eyes at me last, growling under her breath. “And you. You don’t even know what you are. The last time you almost hooked up with a girl, you smashed your fist through a damn wall and nearly ruined your career. Ever since then you’ve been giving me dirty looks and shoving me away every single opportunity you get. You’ve despised having a girl in this band.”

  I shake my head, laughter bubbling up out of my throat; she looks so fucking ridiculous with her cheeks puffed out and her hackles raised. Not so picture perfect now that she’s showing her true colors. “I was the one who said we should give you a shot, remember? You’re an amazing guitar player, and you did a great job of stepping into the breach when we needed someone. So no, I haven’t despised having a woman in the band at all, Marika. I just despise you. I despise you because you’re an ugly person on the inside, and I don’t like being manipulated, lied to or flat out played by someone in order for them to get their own way. It’s pathetic.”

  Standing beside me, Cole holds his hand up in the air and I high five him. Butler looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. “Boys! Jesus, boys, are you out of your goddamn minds? You’ve just stepped off stage. We shouldn’t be having a conversation like this right now. We should be celebrating.”

  “Whatever. It’s okay, Butler. I’ve already been picked up by Backyard Buzzards. Their guys recognize the value of a diverse line up.” Marika shoves Butler out of the way, pushing past him as she storms off down the corridor; Butler watches her go with his mouth hanging open. When he turns back to us, his face is ashen.

  “Damn it all to hell. You have no idea how severely you’ve just stunted the band’s progress,” he snaps.

  “We don’t want anything we haven’t earned ourselves,” Cole tells him. “This gig was a dream come true. It was awesome, and now we know what we’re working toward. If we have to bust our asses to get it for ourselves, then so be it.”

  Butler mops sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. If people could literally blow steam out of their ears, he would be doing it right now. “You know, I took a punt on you guys when no one else was paying any attention. You think you weren’t a risk for me? Well, you were. You’re all ungrateful little sh—”

  “Hey, Luke? Remember that gift I was talking about earlier?” Cole addresses me, but his eyes are locked on Butler.

  I suddenly have a vague idea what my gift might be, and my face begins to twitch with the urge to smile. “Sure. That would be great.”.

  “When our lawyers were going over the abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous contract you wanted us to sign that locked Marika into the band, I had him go over our original paperwork, too. Seems we were locked into an agreement that stated D.M.F. had to provide twelve tracks to the label for our record by September first, otherwise we were in breach and our agreement was null and void.”

  Butler points his index finger and stabs it at Cole. “That was to protect the label, not you, asshole. It only voided the agreement if we were unhappy about not receiving the tracks on time. MVP agreed to be flexible on the album dates so you could rehearse for this performance. Therefore the contract still stands.”

  “Not according to the contract,” Cole says, crossing his arms over his chest. “The date was never amended and we never signed off on any changes, so therefore we’re now free agents. And the rights to our songs revert back to us as well.”

  I could fucking fist pump right now, but there’s something so satisfying about playing along with Cole’s super calm demeanor. I fold my arms across my chest to mirror my friend standing next to me. “You don’t say? Well, isn’t that interesting.”

  “We invested money into D.M.F,” Butler splutters. “You think any other record labels are going to touch you after they hear about this? They’re going to run a mile.”

  “Klaxon Records have already indicated interest,” Cole says. “And Embryonic.”

  For all the money in the world, it looks like Butler is about to stamp his foot like a petulant child. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it, the four of you need to get out of here right now. You’re no longer welcome at this venue while MVP’s artists are playing here. Any instruments you’ve left at the recording studio will be seized and used as payment in lieu of our investment.”

  “Don’t worry, man. All of our stuff was cleared out this afternoon.”

  I have no idea who Cole got to fetch all of our gear, but I’m glad he did. Avery’s dad bought me the electric guitar I play now for my fourteenth birthday. To lose that would have been devastating. Cole really has been a Devious Mother Fucker today. I slap my hand on his back, biting the insides of my lips to stop myself from smiling.

  “Security will be here in less than a minute,” Butler says. “I advise you to be off the property when they get here.”

  “Don’t worry, dude. We’re in the wind,” Pete says.

  The four of us walk out of the Staples Center, still covered in sweat from our performance, still high from what just went down.

  Cole laughs like a child as he jumps into the passenger seat of my Fastback, and I just sit there for a moment, staring at the steering wheel. “Dude. Embryonic and Klaxon are both New York labels. You realize that?”

  Cole gives me a no shit look. “That’s the whole point, right?

  “Yeah. But…I don’t know. I mean…Avery. Avery didn’t come to the gig, man. New York isn’t as important now as it was yesterday.”

  “Fuck you, you punk,” Cole says, slapping me on the shoulder. “Never say that again. New York is the center of the known universe and don’t you forget it.” He follows this up with a sad smile. “God, I’m sorry she didn’t show, Luke. I think I’m finally getting how much you love this girl. I’m just a heartless bastard. Sorry it’s taken me a while. You should stay open-minded, though. You never know what’s gonna go down when we get back there and you guys are waking up in the same city every morning. Anything could happen. In the meantime, let’s just get our asses back there, okay? I’m seriously jonesing for a proper NYC coffee.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  AVERY

  My heart is in my mouth.

  I’ve never been this nervous in my entire life. I’ve never committed a crime before, and I’ve never taken such a big risk. I feel like I could throw up at any second. I sit in silence in the unfamiliar apartment, trying to figure out where Luke may have sat and played his guitar when he was writing, where he may have read his Spiderman comics or listened to his music. The sheets on his bed are in a welter, messed up, but only on one side. I hover my hand an inch over the mattress where he’s been sleeping, sad in the knowledge that he’s been suffering on his own while he’s been here.

  It’s really late when I hear a key turning in the door. Electricity sparks through me, snapping at my nerve endings, and I consider ducking and hiding. That would be the most ridiculous thing ever, though, so I simply stand and clasp my hands in front of me, paralyzed by fear. The door swings ope
n and there he is, the shape of his silhouette framed in the doorway, frozen in place as he sees me. I can’t make out the expression on his face; I wish I could. I want to know if he’s happy, or angry, or indifferent altogether, but all I can see is the stillness of his body, the way his shoulders aren’t moving with his breath. The way his hands are motionless by his sides.

  “Avery?” he whispers.

  I give him a small wave. “Hi.”

  I’ve run through this in my head so many times for the past few hours. The past few days, if I’m honest. Ever since I sat down and listened to his sessions on that thumb drive. He’s been wary in some scenarios I’ve imagined. I’ve been angry in the rest. What actually plays out is completely different to anything I’ve imagined, though. Luke drops his jacket on the floor and literally charges into the apartment, sweeping me up in his arms. His mouth comes crashing down onto mine, his hands holding my face while he kisses me with an intensity that threatens to set my whole world on fire.

  “Don’t say it,” he tells me. “Don’t say a word. I’m not going to let you tell me you don’t want me. I’m a selfish bastard. I’m stupid and I’m broken, but I’m yours and you’re mine, and I was a fucking fool to ever let you go. So don’t say it. I can’t bear to hear it.” He kisses me again, his eyes full of unshed tears. I’ve never seen him this caught up and fierce about anything before. It makes my throat feel like it’s closing shut. “I love you, Avery. God, I’m so sorry.” He crushes me to him then, holding on to me for dear life, and I can feel his heart tripping like a jackhammer underneath his ribcage. Five minutes must pass before the fire of the moment subsides and it’s replaced by a strange sense of calm. Luke leans back a little, holding my face in his hands so he can study me. “You’re really here? In my apartment?”

  “I am.”

  “You broke in?”

  “Kind of.” I shift from one foot to another awkwardly. “Cole picked the lock for me earlier this afternoon.”

  Anger flashes across his face. “Cole knew you were here? Cole’s known you were here all…all fucking night?”

  I nod. “Don’t be mad at him. I asked him not to tell you.”

  Luke stares at me for another second, obviously thinking very hard, not sure what to make of me being here all of a sudden. He lets me go—he doesn’t seem to want to—and returns to the entrance of the apartment so he can kick the door closed. He picks up his jacket and then stops three feet in front of me, wringing the leather in his hands. “Why? Why didn’t you come to the concert?”

  “I’m sorry, I wanted to, but I…I don’t know. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you up there on the stage while I was surrounded by all of those people. I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t want to share you with anyone else when I did. Does that make sense?”

  He clenches his jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe. I guess that depends on what you want to talk to me about.”

  I reach into my pocket and I take out the thumb drive he gave to me in Breakwater, holding it up for him to see. Luke eyes it nervously for a second, and then looks away, slowly hanging his jacket up on the back of one of the chairs at his small dining table. “You listened to it, then?” he asks.

  “I did. I listened to all of it.”

  “And now you think I’m a psycho, and you’ve come here to personally tell me never to contact you again.”

  “No,” I whisper. “I don’t think that. And that’s not why I’m here.”

  Luke turns away, placing his hands on the back of the chair, leaning against it. Every single muscle in his body is stiff. “Then what? Why did you come?”

  I take a deep breath. “To tell you that I think you’re a fool.”

  He nods slowly, sighing. “I know that now.”

  “And to tell you that I love you. And to tell you that I hate the fact that you were hurting that much and you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”

  He goes still all over again. “You’re…not angry with me?” he says carefully.

  “Fuck, yes, I’m angry with you! I’m so angry. You should have trusted me. You should have known I would have stood by you and done everything I could to try and help you.” I expect him to try and defend himself but instead his shoulders sag.

  “I know. I fucked up. Big time,” he whispers. He seems completely exhausted. I want to run to him, to let him hold me already—it’s been so long—but first I need him to hear me out.

  “You did fuck up. And you can never do it again. You can never shut me out like that again. Do you have any idea how badly you hurt me?”

  “Yes.” He’s gone gray, and his hands are shaking. “And I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it.”

  “You can be broken, Luke. You’re allowed to not be okay. I’m not okay. I’m still so fucked up from what happened with Chloe and my dad, but you taught me to lean on you. You showed me I could rely on you to help me when I needed to. And then when you needed someone, you just fucking left!”

  “This was different, Ave,” he says. “This put you in danger. I just…in my head I couldn’t risk it.”

  “I think I understand that now, too.”

  We both stand in silence for while, staring at each other. He looks afraid, like he’s just waiting for me to tell him that while I do get what he was trying to do, he ended up hurting me too much for me to forgive him anyway. Eventually he speaks. “Cole tell you we were coming back to New York?”

  I nod. “He did.”

  “So…do you think we might…fuck.” He rubs his hands over his face. “Do you think you might want to see me sometime when I’m back there?”

  “Yes, I want to see you. Damn it, Luke, why do you think I came all the way out here. I fucking love you. I never stopped wanting to see you. It was you who cut me out of your life.”

  Surprise washes over his face. “Does that mean…wait, does that mean you’re going to give me another shot?”

  I kick the toe of my sneaker against the bare floorboards, my cheeks suddenly too hot and prickling. “Well…yeah. I love you. And you love me, despite how backwards you may have things some times.”

  “Fuck, Avery.” Luke’s apprehension seems to drop away, falling from him like a weight that was pressing him down into the ground. His back straightens, his shoulders shifting back, and then he’s closing the space between us all over again, except this time he’s not rushing. He walks painfully slowly, his eyes troubled as he pins me with his gaze. “I’m going to move back to New York. I’m going to give you back your key to my apartment. You don’t have to move back in straight away. I just want you to be there whenever you want to. If we need to take this slow, then that’s what we’ll do. I never want to be without you again, beautiful girl. I never want to shut you out of my head. From here on out, we’re a team. I promise I’m going to make you so happy. I’m going to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to make your life amazing. Nothing else matters. Not the band. Not the cops. Not Chloe, and definitely not my dead father. It won’t be perfect. We’ll fight, and I’ll make mistakes. I’m sure you will, too. But from this point forward, there’s no more running and hiding. I’m going to love you and take care of you, I swear. I knew you were the most precious thing in my life, Avery, but I had no idea I couldn’t physically exist without you until you weren’t there anymore. I could breathe and I could eat and function, but I wasn’t fucking alive. You make me alive.” He kisses me again, and this time it’s deep and powerful, tying us together.

  Luke’s always been good at words. Writing them down for songs mostly. I suppose when he stopped using those words to communicate with me, I lost faith in them, though. It was hard to believe anything that he’d said to me before, because how could he leave me the way he did if he loved me so much? Right now, though, here, in this very moment, I know with a deep and unwavering certainty that his words are and always have been true. They come from a deep place inside him. They have to travel up through years worth of pain and trauma, so they get colored with emotion along the way
. You can feel that in the way he says things.

  I’ve never been a forgiving sort of person. It’s always been so easy to hold onto the hurts in this life. Recently, though, I’ve changed. I’ve forgiven Noah. I’ve forgiven my mother for what feels like a lifetime of hurt and disinterest. I’ve forgiven my father—that one took some time. I never really, truly, deep down in my heart believed he was responsible for murdering those people, so I wasn’t forgiving him for that. I was forgiving him for leaving me. It felt selfish to be angry toward him for getting himself killed, especially since he allowed it to happen in order to save me, but I couldn’t help it. For years I felt like he’d abandoned me when I needed him the most.

  And now…here I am, forgiving Luke for the same thing. I love him so damn much. And he’s right; I could chose to move on without him if I really wanted to. I would eat and breathe and function on some level. I wouldn’t be alive, though. I’d be a shell of myself, something hollowed out and impersonal. The sun would have disappeared from my world, and it might be that in time I would find something similar to light me up, but nothing would ever shine so brightly.

  “Let me love you, Avery,” Luke whispers. “Let me show you how amazing our life together will be.” Pressing his lips against my forehead, my senses are filled with him—his smell, his warmth, the soft lull of his beautiful voice. The voice that has sung so often to me since we started this journey.

  “Okay,” I whisper back. “Okay, let’s have our amazing life. Show me. I want to experience it all.”

  EPILOGUE

  LUKE

  Tom Wolfe said a person would belong in New York in five minutes as much as they ever would in five years. I felt that way the moment I arrived in the city. The moment I walked into my apartment for the first time. The moment I put on my uniform and I went to work. New York became my home when I sat down on the wobbly stool with the ripped leather seat in O’Flanagan’s and played my first open mic set all those years ago.