Jason
When she goes inside, I walk to my door, regret and want weighing heavily on my mind. Checking my watch, I have about an hour before I need to leave to meet the guys.
The band is meeting at the studio to work on the finishing touches for our newest album—the best one yet—since touring begins in the next couple months. Being on tour is great, but I’m always ready to come back home to my bed—silence and solitude, if I desire. This time, even more so since Mallory is back. First, we must make it through Thanksgiving. Grabbing the phone, I shoot off a text to let my sister know Mallory will be joining me on my trip down there, then login to check our Facebook and Instagram accounts to kill time before I leave. We have a PR person who maintains these sites, but I like to drop in from time to time to see how our fans are reacting. Do they love our new single? What do they want to see more of? Things like that.
Arriving at the studio, none of the other guys’ vehicles are parked outside, though Brian may be here since the studio is on his property. Heading inside, all I hear is silence. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, then head down the carpeted hallway toward the sound room. Sitting behind my drums, I pick up my sticks and start to warm up. We’re supposed to lay down some basic tracks today for the last two songs left on the album. The other eight are complete.
Starting off with a simple beat, I tune out everything else and just concentrate on pounding out the rhythm. Music is in my blood, my heart beating in time to the pattern of the strikes on the drum skins. By the times the others roll in, I’m finishing up Avenged Sevenfold’s Nightmare. The guys mill around the room, Brett singing along, Derek and Isaac playing air guitar in time with me. As the last strike rings out, I wipe the sweat dripping from my brow, my heart rate and breathing slowing as the adrenaline wanes. Placing my sticks down, Derek saunters over. “It always fucking blows me away when you play that, Jase,” Derek tells me as he clasps my hand.
“It’s a good warm up.” I chuckle.
“All right, guys, we’ve got two songs to get laid down today, and the hard part is over. Let’s get this shit done so we can enjoy our time at home before we leave for months,” Brett says as he grabs his headphones and goes to the microphone.
Working on laying the drum track for the first song, the beat comes naturally. Derek’s up next to play bass, then Isaac, and Brett’s up last. Brett’s part is always the hardest since he’s the lead singer. He must hit the notes and nuisances of each lyric he sings spot on. Derek and Isaac work on some of the harmonies, but for the most part, it’s all Brett. He is the face and voice of the band.
After six hours, most of the work is complete, there are just little things that need tweaking. This is the best work we’ve done to date. The singles we’ve already released have risen to the top of the charts like a rocket. We’re booked to play Octane Unleaded next month, and I’m looking forward to being back in New York City. We say our goodbyes for the night, knowing we’ll see each other in the morning at the gym.
Since it’s still warm, grilling out sounds good. Nothing beats the smell of charcoal burning and the sizzling of grease dripping on the red-hot coals. Dropping by the store, I pick some steaks, potatoes, salad, and asparagus. I carry everything up the stairs to my apartment, eyeing her door as I pass by. Placing the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, I gather my courage, then head over to Mallory’s. With each step I take, my heart pounds and my palms sweat. How can I be nervous to talk to this girl? It’s like I’m back in high school trying to talk to the cheerleader.
Knocking on her door, I drum my fingers on the doorframe, impatiently waiting for her to answer. Just as I’m about to knock again, the locks turn. Leaning against the frame with my arms crossed over my chest, I try to look nonchalant. The door swings wide and my heart skips a beat. She looks gorgeous. For no other reason than it’s her. Her hair’s up in a ponytail with little tendrils hanging down, softly brushing her cheeks. The tight blue tank top she’s wearing reveals her tight little nipples unhindered by a bra, and black pants hug her thighs before flaring out around her tiny bare feet. She can put a cover model to shame. My fingers twitch with the need to pull her into me. I raise my eyes back to hers, finding pink flushing her cheeks as she realizes I’m looking her over.
“Hey, Jason,” she says, tucking one of the tendrils behind her ear.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m grilling out some steaks tonight. Thought you might want to join me.” I point my thumb over my shoulder toward my apartment like a doofus.
“Okay,” she answers timidly.
“Mal, you need to—wait, you said okay?” I stutter, surprise apparent in my response.
She smiles up at me. “Yes, I did. I thought a lot about what you’ve been saying, and you’re right. I’ve been cooped up in here for too long. I need to start getting out more.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Come over in an hour?”
“Sure. Do you need me to bring anything?”
“Just yourself. Or if there is anything special you want.”
“See you in an hour then.” She moves back and shuts the door. Did she just agree that quickly? Taking a step away from her door, I hurry toward my apartment before she opens the door and tells me she’s changed her mind.
Changing out of my clothes, I throw on some black basketball shorts and an old Metallica concert shirt, then head into the kitchen to start prepping the food. By the time I’m finished, a hesitant knock at my door has me rushing in that direction.
She’s thrown on a hoodie and some shoes, but that’s all she’s changed. Gesturing inside, I say, “Take a seat, Mal.”
“Do you need any help?”
I shake my head. “I think I have it almost ready. Just need to put the food on the grill. You can sit at the counter or outside so we can talk.”
She follows me into the kitchen and hops up onto the stool. The slider’s open, the aroma of the burning charcoal wafting into the apartment along with the distant sounds of traffic and kids playing on the playground behind the complex. Grabbing the platter with the steaks, I walk out onto the balcony.
“Do you need me to help bring anything out?”
“No, I’ve got it. You just sit down and relax. You want a beer?”
She nods. “I can get it. You want one?”
“Please.”
She follows me out with a bottle in each hand. There are two plastic chairs out on the balcony with a little table in between. She sits in the chair closest to the wall and leaves the one by the railing for me as she places one of the bottles on the table. She struggles to twist the top off the one she’s holding without luck. Taking the bottle from her, I twist the lid off and hand it back to her.
“Thanks.”
Nodding at her before turning back to the grill, I place the steaks and asparagus on the rack, then sit in the chair beside her, taking a long pull of the bitter, icy cold brew.
“What did you do today?”
“Slept, watched TV, and snacked. You?”
“After I dropped you off, I met the guys at the studio. We’re wrapping up the new album.”
“That means you’ll be off touring soon, right? To promote it?” Worry tinges her voice. Glancing over, she’s slowly peeling the label off the bottle, piece by little piece.
“Yeah, we’ll be stateside for a few months starting in January. Then we head to Europe for about four months.”
“You’ll be gone for a while then?”
“Yes, most of the year. Donna had a job secured for you here before y’all left Colorado, right?”
“Yes, in the ER at Baylor. I don’t start until after the first of the year. We wanted to make sure I was healed up. It’s a physically demanding job, and I need to be able to lift and walk around without my walking boot. Luckily, I was able to put away money while I was in Colorado, and I have my dad’s life insurance policy. I’m not hurting, but I think going back to work will be good for me. Give me something to focus on.”
“Have you talked to anyone about what happened?”
“Besides you and Donna?”
Giving her a nod, I take a sip of my beer before standing up and stepping over to the grill. Flipping the steaks, the meat sizzles when it touches the hot grate.
“Not really. I think I’m doing okay. I know staying in my apartment isn’t doing me any favors. I’m going to try to get out every day, at least while the weather is warm. Is there a gym in the complex?”
“There’s one over by the pool. It has some basic stuff, but not a lot of options.”
“It’ll do for now. I have to see the doctor Donna set me up with next week before I can get clearance to do anything strenuous.”
“How are you going to get there? You don’t have a car, right?”
“I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. I guess I can get an Uber. But I’m going to have to find a car before I start working.”
“I can give you a lift to your appointment. I’m free until we go to New York next month. And we can see about getting you something to drive. Or I can take you and pick you up until you’re ready to get one.” Why does it make me happy to want to do things for her? The idea of her being dependent on me makes me feel virile, protective, but that’s the last thing that she needs right now. She must be able to find her own way.
“I’ll take you up on the lift to my appointment. I’ll even let you do the manly thing and help me find a decent car. But I can’t let you take me back and forth to work. I’m not even sure what shift I’m going to be working yet.”
“That works for me.” Taking a swig of beer, I press on. “I think you need to talk to someone about what happened, Mal. Professionally, I mean.” Looking over at her, she’s staring out into space, hands fidgeting with her hoodie. “No pressure. It was just a suggestion.”
She gives me a small smile. “I’ll think about it, but once I get back to work and into a routine, I truly believe I’ll be back to normal.”
“Normal is relative. Okay, everything is done. Do you want to eat out here or back in the kitchen?”
“Probably the kitchen. It would be hard to cut a steak on my lap.”
“Very true.”
Removing the food from the grill, I carry the platter to the counter. Mal follows behind and throws our empties away. Gathering the salad and potato fixings out of the fridge, along with a couple more beers, I place everything on the counter, plate up the food, and slide one in front of her. Her dove gray eyes widen as she takes in the sheer amount of food in front of her. It’s the kind if silence that comes from being completely comfortable with each other. She puts a good dent in her food, but about halfway through her plate, she pushes it away.
“Why are y’all going to New York?”
“We have a live set to go play for Octane.”
“For how long?”
“Three days, I think. Hopefully we’ll get to see some sites. I want to see the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, and more of Times Square. We just kind of passed through last time.”
“New York in winter. Are you worried about getting snowed in?” she says, scrunching her nose.
“Not really. The worst thing that can happen is we get stuck in the hotel for a few extra days. I’m sure Brian would find some way to spin it to our advantage.” Taking another drink of my beer, I contemplate how to bring this up before just blurting it out. “Have you decided when you’re going to let Kris and Camryn know you’re back in town?”
“I was thinking Christmas. Make it a surprise. I’m sure they’re probably worried about me. I don’t have my phone, and I’ve stayed off all social media. They have no way to contact me. Guess that makes me a shitty friend, just now worrying about them.”
“You’re not a shitty friend. You needed to focus on you and getting better. And they’ll understand that. But, yes, they’re worried about you. We were talking about it the other day before I realized it was you who moved in.”
“What were they saying?”
“They are worried and haven’t heard from you in a while. They were planning on making a trip to Colorado to find out what’s going on.” Her eyes open impossibly wide.
“When are they planning on going?”
“Before we leave for tour. It’s good you’re telling them before they make the trip. What are you going to tell them about why you’re back and why you’ve been ignoring them?”
“I’m not ignoring them,” she states, indignant.
“To them you are. They’ll understand once you tell them what’s been going on.”
“I’m not planning on telling them, Jason. I’m just going to tell them we broke up and I moved back.” She’s back to peeling the label off the bottle and piling the paper into little balls.
“Why?”
“Why what?” She looks at me questioningly.
“Why aren’t you going to say anything? Mal, this wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t deserve this. This is all on him. And you need to understand that. The sooner you do, the sooner you can get back to being you.”
“I don’t want them feeling sorry for me or pitying me. I’m just glad I’m back here with y’all. Back where I belong.” The sadness in her voice makes my heart hurt for her.
“I’m glad your back too, Mal. How about we watch a movie?”
“I think I’d like that.”
We decide to watch Hitch, and we sit on the couch, her on one end, and me on the other. Normally, I’d sit in my recliner, but I crave the chance to be closer to her. A few minutes into the movie, her eyelids become heavy and she starts to lean to one side before catching herself. Laying one of the throw pillows between us, she rests her head down and her breathing evens out as she sleeps. Reaching back to the couch for the blanket, I spread it over her. Absently running my fingers through her ponytail, I watch the whole movie like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be asleep next to me, doing this every night. When the credits roll, I scroll through the stations to find another movie so she can continue sleeping next to me. Eventually, I have to get up to piss and try to move from the couch without disturbing her slumber. Disappointment fills me when I walk back into the room to find her sitting up.
“I fell asleep, huh?” she asks, her voice groggy. “I guess I better get back to my apartment.”
“I’ll walk you over.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s just next door.”
“I’ll walk you to your door. My momma would kill me if I didn’t.”
Opening the door, we walk out into the dim walkway. Unlocking her door and pushing it open, she turns to me. I step closer, making her look up at me. Her gray eyes sparkle in the light. Leaning down, I place a kiss on her forehead, savoring the feel of her silky skin against my lips, the scent of her shampoo.
“Goodnight, Mal. Pleasant dreams.”