Hooked

by Nicole Howard

  “Hey, Justin?” I winced at my name being called, the sound echoing against the walls of the empty hallway. “New glasses?” Claire and her posse caged me in, leaving me to cower against the dented casing of my locker. Most guys would have given their left nut to have Claire to even notice them, but most guys weren’t Justin Thompson.

  “Leave me alone, Claire.”

  “I was just trying to pay you a compliment, Justin.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It’s not every day someone gets glasses that pair so well with braces. I mean, it’s like you’re trying to be crowned Class Geek. Your look is really coming together.” Claire laughed, openly mocking me while her friends giggled at my expense. The memory sent shivers down my spine. Teenage Justin was long gone.

  The tables had turned. She may not have changed much, but I had. If someone had told me, during those hellish four years of high school, that I would be standing in front of the girl who made those years a nightmare, holding all the cards, I would have laughed in their face. But here I was, witnessing Claire bat her eyelashes and arching her back to push out her chest, her tits barely contained in her low-cut shirt, begging me to take her home.

  “Claire, Claire, Claire…” I taunted, relishing in the way her face brightened in response. “The star of teenage fantasies. Still think you play that role, don’t you?”

  “I’ll play that role for you.”

  “Oh, but you see, I’m not a teenage boy anymore.” Laughing, I pushed my hair out of my face. “But you already know that. It’s why you’re here. Begging, like the bitch that you are, for whatever scraps I’ll throw your way. I’d love to see you on your knees, but my dick isn’t going anywhere near you, sweetheart. Even my standards are higher than you.”

  “And that’s saying a lot.” One of the groupies standing close enough to overhear chimed in adding the cherry to the top of that sundae.

  Seeing her reaction might have been the best moment of my life. Best day of my life. Let me correct that, The second-best day of my life. The best of the best was by far the one that started it all. The unexpected favor that led to my complete transformation. Come to think of it, Claire was part of the reason I was in the right place at the right time. Maybe I should have thanked her for being pure evil.

  At sixteen, the only place that was safe for me, aside from inside the walls of my home, was my part-time job. Apparently, fast food joints don’t care how their employees look or about their reputations. So long as you could mass-produce bags filled with edible grease, you had a spot on the payroll.

  “Hey, Justin.” My co-worker shouted from across the kitchen of the restaurant, where I was spending the weekend flipping burgers.

  “Ya?” I kept my attention on the grill, timing each flip.

  “You play the drums, right?” The college kid, whose name I couldn’t remember, emptied a bag of hamburger buns into the tray next to the grill.

  “Sort of.” If you counted playing in the school band for the past six years.

  “Can you keep a beat? I’m desperate here.”

  “Huh?” Where was he going with this?

  “Our drummer quit last night, and we have a gig tonight. I know it’s short notice, but seriously man, can you do me a solid? I’m not expecting it to be awesome. Just keep a beat. Get us through the night.” Cameron, as per his name tag, tugged at his hairnet.

  “I don’t know…”

  “We’ll give you all the money from tonight’s gig. 2K.” My jaw dropped. “Like, I said. We’re desperate. We need to keep this slot.” Like hell, I was turning this down. Two thousand dollars! Who even cared if I sucked? It wasn’t like I had friends to impress, and my popularity was already at rock bottom.

  “Where do I need to go?”

  “You’re in?” I nodded. “Awesome. Meet me at 8 o’clock, 1255 West Third. Just ask for Cam at the door.”

  “Okay.” Holy shit. What had I gotten myself into?

  I should have been nervous, sitting behind the drum kit in the dive bar, but being tucked in the back and shadowed by the lack of lighting, I wasn’t. The anxiety responsible for the three puke fests on the drive to the bar had vanished, leaving me alone with my sticks and the loud chatter from the full bar.

  Cam insisted his guys would be cool, even if I blew it. My only job was to keep a basic beat and try to follow their lead. The majority of the setlist were covers, with only a couple of originals. Fifteen songs stood between me and two thousand dollars. At one hundred and thirty-three dollars per song, I could manage.

  Turns out, I’m a natural. Playing in the high school band never highlighted my skills but sitting at the back of the stage I owned the drum kit. The louder the music, the higher my energy grew. I came alive for the first time in my life. My body moved on its own. My feet, my arms, the music just happened. I knew how to play without an instruction manual, nailing song after song, filling any break in the music with killer drum solos created out of thin air.

  “When Cam said you were good, I thought he was bullshitting.” The grungy bass player was the first to talk to me after we finished playing.

  “Cam told you I was good?” The fucker lied to me. What if I had blown it? So much for the band not caring.

  “Are you looking for a band? Because we’ve got an opening for a drummer.” I laughed off his joke until I realized he wasn’t kidding.

  “You’ve gotta play with us next weekend, J.” Cam joined the bassist on the other side of the drumkit.

  “Okay.” I wanted to live through the high again and they were giving me a way to do that. A way that paved the road for my future, even though my time with that band only lasted until I finished high school.

  Most weekends I was booked solid, playing gigs with a few different groups. To fill my schedule, I joined multiple bands, jumping on every available chance to perform, but I hadn’t made any progress in finding anyone interested in taking their part-time gigs any further. Everyone else was content with moonlighting on the weekend and returning to their regular, boring jobs and steady paychecks. Not me. Once I had a taste of being a musician, it was all I wanted.

  When everyone else was heading off to college or locking down full-time jobs, I was dedicated to performing, putting all my time and effort into playing. Being seen and seeing people. If I wasn’t playing, I was searching. Spending free nights in pubs, dive bars, coffee shops, wherever musicians were playing, I did my best to be there.

  Seven months after living on KD, fried bologna, and cheap beer, I landed in a dive bar where a no-name band was playing. The front-runner of the band was high as a kite, his long, black hair, tangled and unkempt. The drummer was slamming his arms up and down, imitating a monkey on crack instead of owning his music. Too much show and not enough talent. Their base player was tall, lanky, and awkward. They weren’t the ones that caught my attention. No, there was a diamond in the ruff. A real musician shining amongst the imposters. Their lead guitarist had it and I prayed to God, he wanted it too.

  The music was torture, but I sat through it, waiting for the end of a set that shouldn’t have lasted past the first song. No one in the bar was paying attention. The place was a hangout for druggies and drunks, everyone too far gone to appreciate the people standing on the stage. After the four guys hopped down from the makeshift platform, I hung back, watching them interact with the people they knew in the crowd. It took a while before they came down from the high from performing and started separating from each other. As soon as he was alone, I made my move.

  “That was an interesting show.” I commented, not willing to lie. If the guy was as good as I thought he was, the fact that his band sucked ass shouldn’t come as a surprise.

  “It pays the bills.” He shrugged, tipping back a bottle of beer.

  “Tell me about it. It’s hard playing gigs like this. Not much money in it.” I agreed, knowing all too well the sacrifices that came with trying to make your mark.

  “No, there sure as hell isn’t. Some day I’ll get m
y break though.” He stared straight ahead, determination in his words, validation that I was right.

  “Not with these guys you won’t.”

  “They’re not the only band I play with. This place books them throughout the week, so it’s extra money in my pocket.”

  “Are any of the other bands good? Because I play with my fair share, but none of them are going anywhere.” I was laying the foundation for my sales pitch.

  “There’s one that has some potential.”

  “How much potential?”

  “Well, the guys are open to playing some originals and recording a few tracks. It’s better than nothing.”

  He’d said enough for me to move in for the kill. “I’m going to throw something out there, that’ll probably sound insane, but whatever. I’m trying to start a band with guys that legitimately want to put time into trying to breakthrough. You know, put out some albums. A band that’s focused on music, not using it to fill a void or as a hobby, or to get laid. And I think you’re the guitarist I’ve been looking for.”

  His suspicions were written across his face, but it didn’t stop him from asking questions. “How many people are in this band?”

  “At this point…” If I hadn’t scared him off already, my answer would. “It’s just me.”

  “A two-man band? That’s what you’re selling?” He took another swig from the bottle.

  “I want the right musicians. Guys that want it. That are willing to work for it. You’re the first person I’ve met that fits the bill.” I sighed, feeling the opportunity slip through my fingers. “But if that’s not what you want. If you aren’t willing to work for it. To take the time to find the right guys for the band, well, maybe I read you wrong.” Reverse psychology. Was that so bad? Desperate times. Desperate measures.

  “I’m in.” He outstretched his hand and nodded for me to shake it. “Things aren’t working the way I’m going at it now, so what the hell? I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “Good. I’m Justin by the way.”

  “I’m Tim.” He motioned to a dirty table by the wall with two rickety stools. “So, what instrument do you play?”

  Hazed was formed in the back of a shady, smoke-filled bar, littered with druggies in all states of high. The band was named for its roots, the place where we were born.

  ***

  What kind of Rockstar picks out such a quaint house? Yes, that’s right. I just used the word ‘quaint’, cause it’s the only word I can use to describe it. The perfect home for the perfect family. I’m not surprised. Disappointed, is more like it. Looking at the house, it’s official. Tim has been taken down at the knees, or the balls. Same thing. Full-fledged family man. I guess, if I had to put money on one of us, it would have been him. It’s not that I don’t like Ally, I do. But seeing the house in person was proof the change was real. It’s permanent and Hazed will be forever changed.

  “Welcome to our future.” My tone was full of sarcasm as Ian and I walked toward the house.

  “Cut the attitude.” Ian warned, lifting a gym bag onto his shoulder. “Whatever chip you’ve got on your shoulder, let it go.”

  “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I just don’t understand why we have to follow Tim around, like goddamn puppies.”

  Ally swung the door open, interrupting our conversation. No matter how frustrated I was, I wouldn’t take it out on her. She’d been through enough.

  “Hey, guys.” Ally’s hair was piled on top of her head and she was dressed in sweats. Not the greeting I was expecting. Not even the slightest bit of effort. “Tim’s in the basement, with the construction crew. It’s the first door on your left.” She left us to our own devices and walked away.

  “Well, this isn’t a good sign.” Ian commented, when we reached the bottom of the carpeted stairs and were greeted with a full-blown construction zone.

  “Oh, hell no.” The recording studio was framed, doorways were built where I assumed our bedrooms would be, but the place was not even close to being livable.

  “Hey, guys.” Tim stepped over debris and tools on his way over. “We’re a little behind plan.”

  “You think?” The space was supposed to be done before we arrived. How were we supposed to work in this mess? This entire trip was a waste of time.

  “We’ve had some setbacks.” Tim shrugged. Of course, he didn’t care. It wasn’t his life that was being disrupted. “Do you guys mind stay upstairs? Just this time. The room should be done before the next time.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be done before this time.” I couldn’t help myself.

  “It’s fine. We’ll be fine upstairs.” Ian spoke over me.

  “Ally’s planning to keep Kenzie busy, so we can work. And Maggie is coming over this weekend, so the girls are planning a couple of day trips. We’ll have the house pretty much to ourselves.” Tim explained, but I was stuck on one word. Maggie.

  Maybe the week wouldn’t be a total waste. Maggie had been nothing but a memory since our gymnastics act in the backseat of her car, and to be honest, I hadn’t dwelled on it. But hearing her name, knowing she would be within reach, the fiery redhead was the only thing I could see. Going back for seconds wasn’t my style. But fuck, rules be damned, I was diving in for thirds. Besides, what were the chances that a girl I could screw was staying in the house? My options were limited. I just had to find a way to convince Maggie that it was a good idea.

  The weekdays dragged along. Rehearsing in the living room, with a basic drum kit, limited instruments, and a cramped space was a waste of time. Aside from keeping our minds on the music, we weren’t doing much to work on our performance. If anyone was listening, they’d never download a Hazed song, because we sounded like shit.

  Having the days empty of anything productive, left me too much time to fantasize. Being inside Maggie was a foregone conclusion. Not a chance, but a guarantee. The sex had been phenomenal. No one in their right mind would turn down another round.

  For days, visions of Maggie’s arrival spun through my mind on replay. Always with the same conclusion. But if I was under the impression that Maggie would be more than willing to skip the formalities and sneak into my bedroom, naked, I was sorely mistaken. I wasn’t expecting the cold shoulder and complete disregard. She looked right through me, and no one looked through me.

  Watching her move through the house from my perch on the arm of the couch, was strange. I never watched. I never gawked. The girls I was interested in came to me. Always. With Maggie, I was playing in a different league. I knew that the second I made eye contact with her in the hospital. She wasn’t the type of girl to fan over a guy. She wasn’t the type to show interest or chase and being a guy used to receiving attention 24/7, I couldn’t figure out if I was frustrated or intrigued. Either way, I wanted her under me at least one more time.

  “What are you guys working on?” Maggie broke the awkward silence in the room. She was seated in the living room with Ian and me, while Tim and Ally tackled bedtime with Kenzie.

  “Just rehearsing really. Playing through our setlists.” Ian responded. “Keeps us focused when we aren’t on the road.”

  “And it looks like we won’t be touring very much, thanks to Mr. Father-of-the-Year.” Though meant to be a joke, I didn’t put much effort into hiding the underlying tone of bitterness.

  “I think it’s more important that he’s here than on tour, spending his time with strangers. Don’t you?” Maggie questioned, her tone challenging my humor. “She has raised that baby on her own for more than a year.”

  “Only because he didn’t know.” I countered, sharply. “That’s on Ally. She should have told him. He deserved to know.”

  “Don’t blame Ally. I’m sure she wouldn’t have left if she thought he would support her having the baby.” Maggie ran a hand through her hair and looked away, distracting herself from getting too heated. But it was too late, I could tell from the shift in her position that she was already hot.

  “I think it’s more like t
he party was over when she found out she was pregnant, and she bailed.” Why was I continuing to battle? Ally was one of the only girls I liked, and Tim was happier with her in his life. I didn’t blame her for the whole secret baby thing in the slightest.

  “You would. The only things that matter to you are sex, dru…”

  “That’s enough, you two!” Ian interrupted, throwing his hands into the air. “If you can’t say anything nice, then shut your goddamn mouths. They’re trying to get a toddler to sleep up there.”

  “I’m going for a walk.” Maggie popped out of the armchair and made her way to the door. “Can you let Ally know I’ll be back in about half an hour?”

  “Sure.” Ian responded. He turned his attention away from her, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, taking in every curve and bend of her body as she bent over to put on her shoes.

  With Ian in the room, I fought the urge to follow her out the door. There was my opportunity to get her alone, staring me in the face, and I couldn’t act. Not without showing my cards to Ian. He would kill me if he knew I was interested in banging Ally’s friend. And when he finished with me, Tim and Ally would both take their turns. When it came to my social life, aka sex life, there was only one rule. Any girl with a personal connection to the band was off-limits. No one wanted to deal with the aftermath.

  “You two are oil and water.” Ian sighed, the second the front door shut. “Not that I’m surprised. It’s like introducing you to yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That she’s the female version of you. It makes sense that you want to rip each other’s heads off. At least we don’t have to worry about you trying to get in her pants. One less threat in the world.” What a perfectly incorrect assumption. “Just try to get along with her this weekend. She’ll be gone before long and it’s easier to keep the peace, then piss Ally off. We upset her, then Tim will be mad, and we’ll be here forever trying to get our act together. Which for you, means a limited supply of one-night stands.”