Had To Make You Mine

by Kat Long

  On the drive to B’s, I put on Cheap Trick and rolled down the windows, letting the fresh air do its thing. I listened to music when I was stressed, so I turned up the radio, and thought about the lyrics I wrote. What had changed to make them stick? Nothing extreme had happened lately. Maybe that was the difference. I wasn’t constantly worrying about how I couldn’t write.

  I pulled into the parking lot and sat in my car, closing my eyes and thinking about Max again. Would it be so terrible if we explored whatever the hell was going on between us? Was it worth it? I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say yes so bad.

  My phone beeped, and I reached over, opening my eyes and digging into my purse.

  Max: We ordered in for lunch. Where are you?

  Annaleigh: Thank you, I had an errand to run. Please put my food in the fridge.

  Max: Did you forget?

  Annaleigh: Yes.

  I rested my forehead on the steering wheel. How had I forgotten we ordered lunch? I was the one that called it in! Slamming the door harder than necessary, I stomped across the parking lot and took a breath before opening the door, hearing the familiar bell chime.

  My uncle’s bar was one of the best places in all of Charleston, but I was a bit impartial. The walls were brick, and the lights were made from old bottles, giving it a hole in the wall, down-home country feeling. The dark wood flooring, high barstools, and soft lighting added to the gritty vibe; I loved it. The real name was Bob’s Bunker, a spin-off of his favorite movie, Blues Brothers, but most people knew it as B’s.

  “Hey guys!” I called, tossing my purse on the bar.

  “Annaleigh! Long time no see, lady. Come sit. How are you?” Uncle Bob said, motioning me over to a table by the bar. “Alex is in the back making lunch but look what I found.”

  The square table he was sitting at was scattered with pictures and old articles. Oh wow, the memories! There was one of Alex and me with matching guitars and short, punk-rock bleach-blonde hair and several of Alice’s Monsters through the years. Alex and I were so young when we started the band with Bird and Taylor. I picked up one of my favorites, Bird and I, arm and arm on stage singing.

  “Where did this all come from?”

  I walked over and kissed his cheek, then went behind the bar to get a drink.

  “Your mom and I finally finished cleaning out the attic. Your Aunt Diane has been after me for years to hang some of these up around the bar. Oh! Look at this one,” he said, handing me a picture when I sat down.

  It was another favorite. I was maybe two or three, sitting between him and my Grandpa at his old grand piano. They were both playing, probably Straighten up and Fly Right by Nat King Cole, and I was staring at the keys, memorized.

  “I love this picture. Mom framed one for me after Grandpa died. It’s above his piano at my place. Look at this one of you and Aunt Diane singing. This definitely needs to get hung up behind the bar,” I said, passing him the picture I picked up.

  “Absolutely. Here, put it in the frame pile. You know Anna, Grandpa would be proud of what you’re doing here. You didn’t have to invest in the bar and donate to those nonprofits with the money he left you.”

  He met my eyes and smiled, and for a second, I saw my Grandpa peeking through with his twinkling blue eyes.

  “But what better way to honor his memory, UB? Some of my happiest memories are of you two teaching me piano or jamming on the guitar with Alex. And even suffering through all those violin lessons mom made me take before I started to appreciate it.” I shrugged my shoulders and pushed through more of the pictures.

  This seemingly innocent chat was heading to deeper waters, and I took a breath, preparing myself. But something was different. The usual panic I felt when we talked about Bird or the accident wasn’t as strong. It was still there, of course, because the accident was my fault, but some small part of my mind whispered that it was time to let it all go.

  “Alex said she talked to Bird the other day,” Uncle Bob said, his voice soft with concern.

  “Who said my name?” Alex called, walking over with three bacon and brie burgers and a large basket of fries. She passed the food around and joined us, pushing the photos haphazardly to the side.

  “I was just telling Annaleigh you talked to Bird the other day,” Uncle Bob said, keeping his eyes on me and taking a big bite of his burger.

  “Dad! Take it easy with that!” Alex said, putting a hand on his arm and reaching for the salt. “But he’s right, Anna, I did. Bird was telling me stories of how you two met.”

  “Oh God, really? About the summer music program at Brevard College? You’re not going to make me relive all that teenage angst again, are you?” I said with a smile, picking up my burger and taking a bite of the cheesy, melty goodness.

  “You guys met when you were twelve, right?” Uncle Bob said, trying to reach for the salt again before Alex grabbed it and sat it on a different table.

  “Um, I was twelve. Bird was fourteen. We were in Musical Theory together at camp and bored out of our minds.”

  “Do you still have all the letters you wrote between summer camps?” Alex asked, putting ketchup on the fries and popping one in her mouth with a crunch.

  “I’m sure they’re in my house somewhere. It sucks we didn’t live near enough to visit but having a pen pal for all those years was great. It’s hard to believe Bird will be married for almost two years now.”

  “Tell me about it. Do you remember when we started the band, Annaleigh?” Alex said, picking up one of the earliest pictures of Alice’s Monsters.

  “How could I forget!” I said, “After Bird graduated high school, we started the band and played for what, six years, seven before the accident. Um, you know, I talked to Bird the other day, and we ended up jamming to the songs we use to write.”

  “Are you serious? That’s amazing! Have you thought about playing with me here one night?” Alex said, taking the ketchup and squirting more all over the fries.

  “My beautiful and talented daughter is right,” Uncle Bob said, trying one more time to reach for the salt before Alex swatted his hand away. “Maybe it’s time to let music heal you instead of blaming it for what happened. Punishing yourself by not playing in public isn’t helping anyone.”

  He got up and walked to the bar, reaching underneath the counter to refill his soda.

  “Just think about it, Anna. Call Bird again, talk to me,” Alex said, putting her hand on mine and squeezing.

  “I have been thinking a lot lately, and it feels like something’s changed. I’m starting to wonder if giving up was the right thing to do. Um, I wrote a lyric the other day, two actually,” I said, squeezing her hand back.

  “Are you serious? You haven’t written anything in what? Years? Please share!”

  “Oh, sure. I guess,” I said, reaching for my phone and pulling up my app. I handed it to her and watched as she mouthed the words and smiled.

  “You’ve got something here. This is good. Really good.” Alex lifted her soda in a mock toast, and I clinked my water glass against hers.

  “Thanks. But it’s hard to let go. I feel like I need to hold on to the past, the pain, as a reminder.”

  “A reminder of what? That’s no way to live. Listen to me. I’m so much younger and wiser, you know.”

  “Oh whatever. Only by eighteen months,” I said, taking my last bite of burger and picking up more photographs to look through. She winked and stood up, taking the plates with her and disappearing back to the kitchen.

  Uncle Bob walked back over, a familiar white envelope tucked underneath his arm. He laid it on the table and pushed it towards me with a frown.

  “Take this,” he used his dad voice and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me like a teenager caught sneaking out after curfew.

  “No thanks, UB. Just invest it. I’m glad I came by today. Things are weird at work, and
I needed the reset. Can I take this one?” I asked, picking up a picture of Bird and me.

  “Of course, you can. What’s going on at work? Is that guy, Ben, still giving you a hard time?”

  “No. Well, yes, Ben’s a jerk. But it’s not that. I don’t have the words right now.”

  “Well, as Diane would say, ‘Don’t kill people with kindness because not everyone deserves your kindness. Kill them with silence because not everyone you meet will deserve your attention.’ ”

  “That’s… Thank you, UB.” I smiled, and he patted my cheek. That was good advice, even if it did nothing to help whatever was going on with Max and me.

  “I’m glad you stopped by again, Annaleigh,” he said, pushing the envelope closer. I shook my head and pushed it back.

  “Of course,” I said. The burger hit the spot, and we said our goodbyes shortly after, somewhat successfully giving me the distraction I needed.

  Their words about Bird and music stayed with me for the rest of the day and when I took Baxter for his evening walk. I did my best not to think about Max, relieved he was out of the office for most of the afternoon. The trees swayed with the summer breeze, and the streetlights were just starting to come on when I got back to my townhouse.

  I needed to check on my succulent garden and strawberries on the terrace, but Baxter had a hard time climbing up the spiral staircase. I’d have to bribe him with bacon so he wouldn’t whine, but for now, I poured a glass of red wine and sat on the porch outside the master bedroom.

  What Uncle Bob and Alex said made sense. I wanted to give Bird a call but had a feeling if I did, we’d be up late, and not even a latte from Olivia’s bakery would be able to keep me alert.

  Something needled in the back of my mind about Max. He’d gotten more under my skin than any guy had before, which was stupid since we’d just met. I had an overwhelming desire to call him just to talk but pushed the thought away and poured another glass of wine.

  - 9 -

  IGNITE MY FIRE

  Max

  As unhappy as I used to be, I remember when life was simpler.

  I’d wake up, go for a run, put in a solid ten hours at the office, go to whatever event was planned, and go to sleep. I didn’t worry about anything but my family, my job, and myself. I wasn’t happy, but everything was predictable. Structured. Organized.

  But since Annaleigh Mackey entered the picture, my life had been turned upside-down. Each day was an unending exercise in self-control. I never knew what she would do to piss me off or turn me on. I was a walking contradiction.

  After my afternoon meeting ran late, I got back to the bank and took the stairs two at a time to finish my day with no interruptions. I walked around the corner in the all but empty office, when a whiny voice cut through the silence. The voice was high and squeaky, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. I deliberately tuned it out until I heard the words, “...uncooperative bitch.”

  Stopping in my tracks, I glanced up and saw Raymond sitting in his office with someone else. He looked irate and slammed his fist on his desk and pointed his finger at the person with him. His whole face an angry shade of red. Staying out of view, I held my breath and listened.

  “She’ll fall in line,” Raymond said, like someone with a serious vendetta. “Once I pressure the board to vote Jake out, she’ll thank you for the opportunity.”

  “On her knees,” the squeaky voice replied.

  Who the hell was this prick? I slowly inched closer, straining to hear the conversion to see who the fuck they were discussing.

  “Quiet, idiot. You never know who’s still here. I have it on good authority that she fucked her way through the club. Are you sure she’s even worth your time?”

  What the hell? Were they talking about Annaleigh? Or someone else—either way, unacceptable.

  “Annaleigh said no. No one says no,” the voice replied.

  “Just like your dad, Benjamin. Pack it up, time to head out,” Raymond said with a dismissing wave. He stood up and tramped to the back staircase, practically closing his office door in his son’s face.

  So, this was the creep Benjamin who thought he’d get my job, that undeserving weasel. My fingernails dug into my palms, and anger coiled hot in my gut like a blinding inferno. I purposely moved into his line of sight, daring him to look my way.

  Benjamin walked with his shoulders hunched, beady eyes meeting mine, then darting away. I strode up to him, glaring, and bumped his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.

  “What the hell, man?” he said, shaking his head and trying to walk around me to the backdoor. Sweat beaded across his forehead, and he pressed his back to the wall as he tried to slide by me. I had a good couple of inches and twenty pounds on him. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was the other way around because no one talks about my girl that way. No one.

  Wait. My girl? Christ.

  Growling through my teeth, I squared my stance and met his squinty eyes, “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name’s Maxwell Jackson. And make no mistake, I will end you if I ever see you near her.”

  I didn’t yell or raise my voice. I only growled the words out, making him turn toward me to hear the threat. Yes, a threat. This punk was used to riding his daddy’s coattails and being all too familiar with that—it was going to stop here.

  “Whatever, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to push away but slipped on the carpet. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt to keep him from falling on his miserable face.

  I tightened my grip and leaned in closer. “Yeah, you do. From now on, you don’t even think the name Annaleigh.”

  “Or what?” He bowed out his chest in a feeble attempt at intimidation.

  “Or this.” I drew my fist back and popped him in the jaw with just enough force to make his head bounce off the wall. It wasn’t a haymaker, but it gave me significant gratification to watch the blood drip down his split lip. I let go and stepped back, adjusting my tie and giving him space to wipe his lip.

  Dick move? Absolutely. But this guy filled me with rage, blatantly talking about taking advantage of women like it was common practice.

  “You’ll pay for that!” Benjamin raised his voice, eyes darting around as if someone was going to come running out to back him up. He didn’t know I watched his piece of shit father walk away and was confident no one else was here. He attempted to smooth his hands over the wrinkles in his shirt but only smeared the blood.

  “This isn’t over, Jackson, just wait till…”

  “Your father hears about this,” I interrupted with a condescending smile. Just like a spoiled, rich kid running back to daddy to fix his issues.

  “Exactly. Watch your back,” he said, looking at me and wiping his lip again.

  “And you remember what I said.” Not waiting for a response, I shoulder-checked him and left him bleeding in the hallway.

  It was easy to figure out his end game, but what part did Annaleigh play in his sick chess match? I didn’t want to believe what he said about her and sleeping around, but why would he make it up?

  There was no way I could concentrate after that, so I packed up my laptop and left the way I came. I sat in my car and swallowed down the irritation bubbling in my stomach, wondering why the hell I was so concerned with their conversation. Home was not where I wanted to be, so I pulled out and veered to the left, pulling into a bar called Cooper Dog Ale House a short while later. My knuckles throbbed and were split, but I didn’t care as long as Benjamin got the message. I was tempted to check out that bar Blue mentioned, but with the way my luck was going right now, I’d run into her.

  Since Warren was planning a visit in a few weeks, I looked up B’s Bar the other night and saw it was a local’s favorite. If you were in a band and need practice space, you could go during the day. It sounded like a spot I would love, and a place Warren would want to check out.

 
; But tonight, I settled for Cooper’s, getting out of my truck and walking across the parking lot. When I stepped in, my nose was assaulted with the delicious smell of fried food. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a draft and sandwich. Peanut shells littered the floor, and vintage license plates hung on the wall, giving the dive bar character. The bartender sat a bowl of nuts in front of me with the draft, and I took a long pull of the bitter porter, scanning the people.

  My eyes fell on a tall blonde with short cut-offs and a pink tank top. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and I could see her red lips from my seat. She was hot, but I felt… nothing, not a speck of interest. I squeezed my eyes shut and downed the rest of the beer. When my sandwich arrived, I signaled for another draft and took a bite, not having an appetite but needing to keep my hands busy, so I wouldn’t text her.

  I wasn’t sure if I was up for drowning my troubles, but before I could decide, I saw the blonde leaning over the bar, putting her tits on display. I got an eye-full, but again my cock took no notice. He was too hung up on Blue. Like me.

  “Hey, Sugar. Why don’t I sit down here so you can buy me a drink?”

  She had a sweet, thick southern accent and dark eyes, exactly the type to help me out of this funk.

  “You look upset. Want to tell me why?” I glanced behind me as she traced her fingers up my arm. There was a massive guy by the pool tables glaring with his arms crossed. He cracked his knuckles and stared harder. My body was itching for a fight, looking for a way to burn off this adrenaline, but I wasn’t about to walk into that hornets’ nest.

  There were two other guys just as wide, flanking him, waiting to see what happened next. I could hold my own and would have had no problem dropping one, maybe two, but there was no way I could take all three. I didn’t have a death wish, no matter how shitty I felt.

  “Not looking for company tonight. But it seems like someone back there is.” I tilted my head in the guy’s direction, and she nervously looked over, not removing her hand.