Rick jumped up from his drum set and met Cora at the door. I watched with a frown as he held out a hand to help her around boxes of unsorted records. She took his hand with an easy familiarity I hadn’t seen before.
Cora shot us all a sheepish grin. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just curious.”
“And what do you think?” Rick asked.
“It’s not finished,” I said more sharply than I had intended.
“Even so, it’s really good,” Cora said. “And catchy!”
“Hear that?” Rick asked me. “I told you this one’s got a good hook.”
I was too busy staring at their joined hands. It was a casual, polite gesture but something about it made my chest burn. I could still feel Cora’s hands on my face where she had caressed me before kissing me. The memory whipped the burning in my chest into a flame of jealousy.
“Well, if you two agree on it then it must be gold.” I gave a derisive snort and clutched my guitar harder.
Cora slipped her hand out of Rick’s and stepped shyly onto the old rug that marked our recording space. “Why don’t you ask other people then? Wouldn’t it be great to play for a small crowd? I bet all the locals would love an impromptu concert.”
“How about we use the alley over by the pharmacist?” Rick asked. His suggestion dissolved into a goofy grin directed at Cora. “Remember?”
“That trio from high school?” Cora grabbed Rick’s shoulder and laughed. “Oh, god, what was his name? He seriously thought he was the next Bono.”
Rick caught his breath between chuckles. “Caleb Dickinson. He only knew three chords!”
Even Bobby had heard the story before and the three painted the picture of a very bad open-air concert just off Main Street. The trio had used the mouth of the alley to amplify their sound.
“And remember it was Officer Johnson who had to break it up?” Cora laughed harder and gasped for air. “Most of the crowd was cheering for the police stopping all the racket but Caleb thought it was for him. Officer Johnson had to let him march off like a hero.”
I put my guitar down and crossed my arms. “So, that sounds like a great thing to never do.”
Cora took a breath and settled down. “It’d be different if it was you and you know it.”
That made my jaw clench. “You mean if it has the Morris name attached to it.”
Bobby diffused the tense quiet with a few bars of the bass line. “Who cares what you call it? Let’s just play.”
I refused to unlock my arms and pick up my guitar. “Cora doesn’t want to hear a basement session. Not enough hype, not a big enough crowd.”
She studied my face. “I just think it’s a good song, and I wish you’d share it with the town.”
Rick caught her idea and nodded at her side. “Besides, even you have to admit the greenhouse has better acoustics. What if we do a little improv session there and open it up to whoever’s around?”
Bobby paused his quiet bass rhythm and patted his stomach. “Tell everyone it’ll be around dinner time, and I bet it’d turn into a potluck.”
“The song’s not ready,” I snapped.
“Then how about we just play for fun?” Rick asked. “You’ve been on a roll lately and Bobby and I can still keep up.”
Cora watched me cautiously. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
I curled my fingers into a fist to stop the urge to smash my guitar. It did sound like fun, and that was the problem. Messing around and improvising with other musicians was my favorite thing to do until people started staring and whispering. It was only ever a matter of minutes before I overheard my father’s name and the entire music history of my family crushed any freedom I may have felt.
“Letting a bunch of townies toss video of me onto the Internet for all the music trolls to trash? Yeah, sounds like a lot of fun,” I said.
Rick put his hands on his hips, still standing too close to Cora. “We’ll have a ‘no phone’ rule. Simple. It’d just be friends and neighbors.”
“Your friends and neighbors,” I pointed out. “I’m still the freak show from the big house, remember?”
“No, you’re just the talented motherfucker who’s gone all reclusive,” Rick said. “The novelty would wear off as soon as they heard you playing.”
“It’s solid, man. Solid,” Bobby said.
I knew they were trying to be supportive, but I was sick of people pushing me. “The song’s not ready; we’re not ready. Can we just leave it at that, please?”
Cora patted Rick on the shoulder and started backing toward the basement stairs. “I’m sorry. I should be going. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Stay!” Rick held out a hand again. “You’re here so you might as well hear us play the whole thing through.”
Bobby started up the bass line again. Rick waited until he was sure Cora wouldn’t bolt up the stairs and then he ran over to settle down at his drum kit. I picked up my guitar but didn’t pluck a string.
“Did you need something or were you just curious?” I asked Cora.
Her cheeks warmed. “I was heading to Caroline’s and thought I’d pop in.”
“Oh, so you came to see Rick?” I asked.
Rick put down his drumsticks, and Bobby shifted off into his own bass riff. Cora rubbed her arms, and her eyes darted to the basement stairs again.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll get going and leave you guys to it. Big plans for later?”
Her eyes were on me, and I remembered the note I had left her that morning. That was before she spied on me and pushed the whole concert thing. My spine felt stiff, and I couldn’t bring myself to return her hopeful look.
“Probably not,” I said.
Bobby was off in his own world, but Rick watched us with open curiosity. There was something else in his face, a dark flash directed at me after I put Cora off.
“You mean I’m free to spend the evening with my mother at the art studio?” Cora asked. “Great. That’s always fun.”
She shot me another glance, but I was still too stiff to respond. Cora didn’t understand how fast the pressure could swallow me. Just the thought of how fast the world would trash Ian Morris’ son for bad playing had ruined my mood. The evening ahead had a dark cloud hanging over it because I knew Cora would circle back to my playing. It didn’t seem like she could help herself.
“I’m sure your mother wants to catch up with you, hear all about your life in the big city, and how your job’s going.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.
Cora drew herself up a little taller and turned away from me. Her confused expression cleared quickly but not before Rick caught sight of it. He popped up from his stool and joined her at the foot of the basement steps.
“Hey, before you go, I found an old yearbook, and you’ll never guess what Tony Roberts wrote in it.” Rick looped his arm through Cora’s and had her smiling at some old, shared memory.
“Who’s Tony Roberts?” I muttered to myself as they huddled together over a table in the corner.
Bobby slowed down his rhythmic plucking and grinned at me. “Bothers you, doesn’t it.”
I glared at Bobby from the corner of my eye. He always appeared to be in his own world, but the man was the most observant I had ever met.
“Why would I care if they want to rehash old high school memories?” I asked.
“‘Cause you can’t make her laugh like that,” Bobby said.
I gritted my teeth and didn’t want to admit Bobby was right. “I didn’t know they were such old friends.”
“Man, that’s not it at all.” Bobby spun his stand-up bass and picked up another bass line.
“Then what is it?” I snapped.
Bobby didn’t answer at first, he just continued to play as he watched Rick and Cora chatting. Cora’s eyes darted toward me now and then, making me feel like an even bigger grump than I had sounded. Rick, on the other hand, looked only at her.
My friend and drummer didn’t just look at Cora, he gazed at her, and a sudden realization hit me in the stomach like a punch: Rick was in love with Cora.
Bobby saw my mouth drop open and nodded. “Yup. Since childhood. Never saw a sweeter crush but, then again, Ricky’s just about the sweetest man anyone’s ever met.”
“You mean, he’s in love with her?” I dropped my voice to a whisper.
Bobby didn’t answer. Cora knocked over a stack of magazines as she flipped through their high school yearbook, and Rick immediately dove to help her. He used the unsteady magazine stack as a reason to get closer to Cora, if only for a moment.
My stomach felt hollow as I thought back to the party at my mansion. Rick had hailed us just as Cora and I had ducked into the greenhouse together.
“He was probably waving at her, not me,” I muttered.
“Poor hopeless romantic,” Bobby agreed.
I picked up my guitar and plucked a few chords just to fill the echoing worry in my head. It wasn’t the first time my fame had ruined things for my friends. I had been accused before of stealing women or high jacking flirtations when all I had done was get recognized. Rick was a good friend and the last thing I wanted to do was get in the way of his happiness.
Cora squealed with laughter over something Rick said, and it took everything I had to not choke my guitar. The burning feeling was back in my chest, but I pushed it down and forced myself to follow Bobby’s bass line with a new chord progression.
“I don’t know,” I told Bobby. “Maybe he’s a hopeful romantic.”
Bobby considered that while he played and watched the two friends talking. Then he shook his head. “Nah, man. You know she keeps looking at you.”
I snorted. “I can’t be that arrogant. I mean, look at him. He’s the nicest guy.”
“You think you can’t compete?” Bobby asked.
“I think there shouldn’t be a competition at all,” I said. Cora glanced at me again, but I refused to meet her eye.
“Now that’s arrogant,” Bobby pointed out.
I had to laugh. Cora and Rick took that to mean the air had cleared enough for them to rejoin us. The newly formed song kept going and Rick started to tap out a rhythm on the yearbook he still held. My fingers still felt stiff and I hated the pressure I felt to play, but the music seemed to move over my guitar on its own accord.
Bobby watched us all curiously and then ended the quick session with a funky flourish. “I don’t know about you, but I think we should call it ‘Happy Hour,’” he said.
I agreed but swallowed my next thought. I wanted to ask Cora out, but I had already snapped at her and ruined our potential plans. Plus, Rick was standing next to her and still looked so hopeful.
Cora looked shyly at me. “So, does that mean you’re all done for the evening?”
I said nothing, and Rick frowned at me before diving in to save Cora from my awkward silence. “I say it means we should head to the bar for cheeseburgers.”
“Do they still have tater tots?” Cora asked with a grateful smile.
“I’ll even buy you your own basket,” Rick promised.
“Then it’s a date,” Cora said.
I watched them head upstairs and then I slowly put down my guitar. Maybe it was all for the best.
Bobby gave me a curious smile as I rubbed my chest again. “Sometimes a crush is just a crush and nothing more,” he said.
I tried to shrug it off. “Guess it’s up to her.”