Four months later, I was trying to shove my way through a crowd of girls to grab a drink from the kitchen. When I got there, I heard a girl squeal, “Hubba hubba! Luke Skeet is going to help me birth my babies.”
I whipped around. The crowd of girls were surrounding something. Moving to get a better look, I saw an iPad with a YouTube clip playing. I couldn’t see what was on the clip, but hearing the excited squeals, the bottom of my stomach fell out. They were watching my band.
Her friends laughed, and another said, “Shut up. He’s my future husband.”
“I heard they’re from Grant West.”
“No way?! Are you serious? Isn’t that clip in Nebraska?”
The first girl spoke, nodding like she was close to the band, “It is. My cousin used to watch them play at some bar there.”
“Grant West, as in two towns over?”
I couldn’t move. I knew they’d been writing music, and Braden mentioned an impromptu tour last week, but this time I was hearing strangers talking about them. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the group of girls huddled in the corner, clutching their phones, staring at their screens with rapt attention. I was riveted by their reactions. These girls spoke as if Luke and the band were gods.
“Can you move?”
That last question was directed at me. I glanced back, saw a line had formed behind me, and moved to the side.
“Bri?” Wes said my name. He was tall and angelic-looking with blond hair, blue eyes, and overall dreamy. I could almost see the halo attached to his head. He was one of those guys that was too-nice-of-a-guy. He was the lead singer of my new band. Or, correction, I had joined his band, Callen. He smiled at me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a small smile, but rolled my shoulder a bit so he’d release me. As he did, an apology flashed in his eyes, and he moved back a step. I saw his lips move and knew he was going to say another ‘nice guy’ comment—one that would make me feel like a bitch— so before he could speak, I said, “This is a good gig.”
“What?” He leaned closer and then nodded after I repeated myself. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it is. The guy who lives here said there’d be a big crowd. There’s a bunch of other bands here, too. I don’t know if they’re all playing, but he booked two others.” He signaled to a group of people standing, clustered in a small circle. One guy was bobbing his head in rhythm to the music, and another guy was beating out a fast pace with his fingers in the air. Wes said, “That’s Jersey over there.” I caught a small twinge of jealousy in his gaze when he mentioned the band. “They have Avi. You heard about her, right?”
I nodded. I knew Avi. Her voice was raved about by others, but that wasn’t how I knew her. I wondered if she still kept in touch with my brother, and thinking about him, I glanced back at the girls who were still gushing over their phones, watching videos of the band that I should be with.
Wes followed my gaze and made a sound. “I see.”
I looked at him. “What?”
“Sustain.” His eyebrows shot up, and he ducked his head, looking dejected. “I get it.”
“Sustain?”
“Your old band.”
I continued to frown at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Sustain.” He stared at me. “They used to be your band.”
“My band’s name is Braille.”
He sighed, his mouth moving in a grimace. “I thought Callen was…never mind.” Then he moved closer again and leaned toward my ear. Resting a hand on my shoulder as he pointed to the squealing girls, he spoke clearly, “They’re talking about your old band. They changed their name since you’re not with them. They aren’t Braille anymore. It’s Sustain now.”
I moved his hand off me. “Is this a joke?” Why hadn’t Braden told me this? But I knew, even as I thought that, I knew why he didn’t. It was because it would be more final. They were a different band. They were moving on without me. New name. New member. New direction. I was out. Four months later, it still hurt.
“No joke. They’re getting big, Bri. You must be proud. I mean, that’s your brother, your cousin, your b…your friend.”
“How big? What do you mean by that?”
“It’s like they exploded this week. I mean, they were big already, but now they’re signed, and they’re traveling. It was kind of genius. I heard their label wanted them to do a mini-tour, test out some of their new material before doing a big launch. They’ve got fans all over now. They were picked up to headline for another band, too. That’s huge, but,” he was studying me intently, “you must know all about this.”
My lips pressed in a flat line. “Yeah, Braden calls home all the time. I must’ve forgotten about a lot of this.”
A renewed squeal came from the girls’ corner again, and they began waving their phones around. I could hear their voices over the noise in the room, but the music paused in that slight second, and I heard Luke’s voice fill the air. It was slight, but they had programmed all their phones to play at the same instant, so Luke’s voice rose in volume.
“Hello, Phoenix!” Luke called out.
Phoenix. They said Nebraska before.
I needed a beer. “When do we play again?”
Wes had been watching me the whole time. “You didn’t know any of this, did you?”
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to.
He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Bri. I thought you knew. Hell, I thought you would’ve been proud. They have a website for their band, too. There’s not much on there, just their future shows and pictures, but there are lots of comments. A lot of girls go on there. They’re nuts for Luke and Braden.”
“When do we go on again?” Please, shut up.
“Um,” he hesitated.
“Wes,” I snapped, glaring at him. “I’m going to go outside and drink. I need to know when to come back in.”
“I can come get you. We don’t have a set time, probably a half hour or so.”
“You’ll come get me?”
“You’ll be okay to play?”
I rolled my eyes and shoved through the crowd again. Snagging a case of beer, I went out the back door and inhaled. I needed the crisp air since the air inside was stifling. My lungs had started to constrict. Veering to a few vacant seats I had spotted at the edge of the yard, I passed a large group of people hanging out on the patio. Grateful for the trees surrounding me and blocking me from view, I plopped down, set the case beside me, and opened my first beer of the night.
I hadn’t made it a habit of playing while I was drunk, but I knew I could do it. I could handle Callen; they weren’t as good as my old band—I stopped thinking and downed the beer.
“Don’t do that.”
My hand clenched around the beer can, and I gritted my teeth. Of course, he would be here. Twisting around, I glimpsed Elijah emerging from the trees surrounding me. He dropped to the chair beside me. Pointing his lit cigarette to the beer, he said, “Give me one.”
I did, but scowled. “‘Don’t do’ what?”
He leaned back, finished his cigarette, and opened his beer. “You look ready to drown your sorrows or whatever cliché shit that is.”
“What are you doing here?”
He laughed and shoved his free hand into his sweatshirt, then took a long pull from his beer. “I’m at a party. What do you think?”
“You’re selling.”
He shrugged. “Who cares if I am? Pretty Boy’s gone. From my viewpoint, it looks like you need a friend. So,” he angled his chin up with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “do you need a friend, Bria?”
“It’s still not Bria.”
“But you need a friend, don’t you?”
“Not you.”
He scoffed, finishing his beer. He held out his hand, and I put another beer in it. Then he shrugged again, slumping down in his chair and getting even more comfortable. “Get the stick out of your ass. Pretty Boy isn’t here anymore. I am and you need someone around you that you trust. I know you don’t trust that new band you joined. They look like a bunch of pussies.”
“I don’t trust yo—”
“Yes, you do,” he cut me off, and it was true. I did trust Elijah. I didn’t approve of some of the things he did, but I trusted him. He asked, “Are you okay? No bullshit. Are you okay?”
I shrugged.
He laughed, the sound bitter and short. “Stop moping. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up,” he shot back. “What’s your problem? Your boy’s on tour. Who cares? He’ll be back.”
I finished my beer and threw the empty can at him. He deflected it, and I rolled my eyes. “You just asked if I was okay, and now you’re telling me I’m okay. Make up your mind.”
“I did. I changed my mind. You’re back here getting drunk, waiting for your band to play, and sulking because you’re not with Pretty Boy. Get over yourself, Bria.” He had first been amused, but all humor slid away. He was frustrated now. I saw it simmering in the depths of his eyes. “You don’t have problems, Bria. You told your guy the truth, and he left, but he’ll be back. He’ll always come back to you. Your life isn’t over. Me,” his eyes fell flat as he finished, “I have problems. Things you don’t want to hear about.”
I glared at him, but there wasn’t much heat to it. He didn’t know. He didn’t know Luke like I—
“Your boy came to see me.” He finished his second beer and pulled out his cigarettes to light another one. As he touched the cigarette to his lip, breathing in and taking a drag, I waited until he let it back out. Smoke filled the air, covering the space between us before he added, “The morning before they left.”
After we had made love.
Elijah added, “I’m supposed to watch over you. I’m supposed to stay away from you, but watch over you at the same time. If you can figure that out.”
I had to laugh at that. “You’re asking me to believe that Luke would ask you to watch over me?”
He shrugged, letting out more smoke. “I’m supposed to keep my distance from you, except, you know,” he waved his cigarette around, “in case I find you like this or in some other jam.” The somber mask faded, and the corner of his lip formed a crooked grin. “So, are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you okay?”
I growled, exasperated by this conversation. “You’re giving me whiplash. Stop it. Am I okay? I’m okay. I don’t have any problems, and now you’re asking me again if I’m okay?”
He laughed, finishing his second cigarette and then his beer. The finished cigarette was dropped into his empty can. He handed it over. “You’re not thinking ‘poor me’ shit anymore, are you?”
I had opened my mouth to retort, but it clamped shut again. He was right. All the pain from before was gone. I sighed. “You’re right. I’m just annoyed now.”
“No, you aren’t.” He took my beer, finished it, and grabbed my hand. Pulling me up with him, he slapped my ass as soon as I was on my feet. “You got that fighting spirit back. That’s what I did for you.”
He was right. I shoved him away, though. “Whatever. You just like to mess with my mind.”
“Yeah, you know that’s what I do best.” He tugged me after him and we started back for the house. When it was time to go back on stage, I took my seat and looked out over the crowd. Luke and my brother had the same view, but it was bigger. They were making a name for themselves.
Well, fuck them.
I grabbed my drumstick and twirled it in my hand before slamming it down. I’d make my own name, with or without them.