SHE DIDN’T SHOW UP for karate.
I’d gotten there over a half hour early and waited in my car. I had my Gi. If she showed, I was joining her class.
But she never showed.
I threw the Jeep into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. Ten minutes later, I was at her house. Marcus’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, and she either wasn’t home or her car was in the garage.
Fuck it.
I got out and knocked.
No response.
I looked in the front window, but no lights were on and the TV was off. Pulling my phone out, I called her, but it went to voice mail. “Hey, it’s me. You weren’t at practice. Call me.”
Where the fuck was she? It wasn’t like her to skip karate just to avoid me. I walked back to the Jeep and thought about calling the club where she worked to see if she was on tonight, but I didn’t want to come across as a complete stalker. Myles and his uncle owned the club, so no one would question me calling, but still.
I was halfway home to do fuck all, when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and answered. “What’s up, Myles?”
“Hey, Graham said you flew home last night?” Myles wasn’t only the lead singer and guitarist of our band, he’d brought us all together and he did all the promo. If it weren’t for him, none of us would be rich.
“Yeah.” I didn’t explain myself.
Myles laughed. “We were coming home, bro. The bus pulled in a few hours ago. Didn’t want to wait that long to see your buddy’s sister?”
My jaw ticked. “He’s not my fucking buddy.”
“Okay,” Myles drew the word out on a chuckle. “Hope that works out for you.”
Fuck. “You called?”
Myles instantly sobered. “Yeah, we’re all meeting at the studio. We’re going to lay down those new songs we wrote.”
Songs he wrote. “When?”
“Now.”
The last thing I wanted to do was play. I wanted to see Elyssia, and I wanted to know why she was still giving me the cold shoulder after a damn year. “Be there in ten.”
“All right.” Myles practically sang his response out because he lived for the music. “See you in a few. Bring your girlfriend if you want.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face and started up the Jeep. “You purposely being a dick?”
“No.” Myles laughed. “That’s Graham’s job.”
“No fucking shit.” He’d flipped off more audiences than I could count, but the fans still fucking loved him. He played bass like a damn genius, so we all put up with him.
“Damn, dude, swearing like a little bitch today. I think you need to get laid.” Myles laughed again and hung up before I could tell him to fuck off.
I drove to the studio Myles and his uncle had built in a strip mall. It didn’t look like anything from the outside, but inside was state of the art. The band had taken off because Myles had learned all the sound equipment, then we’d recorded our first studio album.
I walked in and Myles and Graham were behind the soundboards.
Myles stood and gave me a bro hug. “What’s up, lover boy?”
“Let it go,” I warned.
Graham spun in his chair and tipped his chin. “Ignore him. I do.”
Myles laughed. “Neither of you would know what to do without me.”
Graham looked at me and deadpanned, “I’ll take the head, you get the feet.”
If I wasn’t so fucking hung up over Elyssia, I would’ve laughed. Graham rarely joked, let alone smiled. “Empty lot out back?”
Graham got up. “Works for me.”
“Fuck you both.” Myles grinned. “You’d have no one to write the songs.”
I nodded at Graham. “He wrote the last three.” The lyrics, anyway.
Graham picked up his bass. “Don’t fucking tell anyone.”
Aaron walked in reeking of cheap perfume and sex. “What’d I miss?”
Graham shook his head. “A shower.”
Aaron grinned, already looking high. “No fucking way, man. Pussy smell’s where it’s at.” Grinning, nodding, he held his fist up to Graham.
Graham gave him a look of utter contempt. “Dignity. Look it up.”
“Says the man who’s fucked more groupies than the Stones.” Aaron stupidly grinned harder.
Myles and I looked at each other, but it was Myles who spoke up. “Piss Graham off and you’re on your own.”
“Dude, what I’d say?” Aaron’s eyes went wide. “That comment’s like epic. It’s a compliment!”
“Shut the fuck up while you’re ahead.” Graham walked into the recording studio.
I followed Graham while Aaron tried to explain himself to Myles. Grabbing sticks, I sat at my favorite kit.
“How’s the woman?” Graham asked, plugging his bass in.
“What woman?” Fucking Myles.
“The one you’ve been pretending not to be fucked-up over for the past year.”
I stared at my drums, wondering what alternate universe I was in. Graham had never asked me a personal question, not even after he’d helped me get Elyssia out of the crowd that night. Since I’d joined the band, he’d kept to himself, rarely said shit, and when he did speak, it was usually to tell you to fuck off. But recently, there’d been a slight shift. I was guessing he was seeing someone, but who fucking knew. He didn’t talk about himself ever.
I tapped my sticks and hit the foot pedal twice. “She’s my best friend’s sister.” I didn’t know why I told him.
“The one you always text?”
I didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
“The brother’s not cool with it.”
He didn’t ask it as a question, but I answered anyway. “Not even close.”
Graham nodded. “Rough.”
My cell vibrated in my pocket before I could respond. I pulled it out, and when I saw it was a text from her, my heart did double time.
No practice today
I stared at the text a minute because something felt off. There were classes every day, and I knew she taught the younger kids twice a week and attended the advanced classes twice a week for her own practice. I fired off a response.
You didn’t feel like going or you don’t go every day anymore?
I hit send and waited.
Graham smirked. “You gonna play or stare at your phone?”
“Both.” If I had to.
Myles and Aaron walked in.
No little dots showed up, and she didn’t respond. I fired off another text.
Elyssia?
Aaron sat behind his keyboards. “What are we playing?”
The three dots showed up.
Don’t go every day
Something was definitely up. She practically lived at the dojo. My thumbs flew across my screen.
I’m in the studio with the band. I’m coming over when I’m done in a couple hours and we’ll go to dinner.
I knew she didn’t like to cook. Growing up, Marcus had always made dinner, or a few times in high school, I’d cooked at their house. Helen was always working, so Marcus and I would handle kitchen duty. My foster home had been shit for meals anyway. There was hardly ever food except cereal, and there was never enough of it to go around. As a teenager, opening the cupboard to boxes of pasta and jars of sauce at Marcus and Elyssia’s house had been fucking nirvana. Cooking the pasta was a small price to pay for a full stomach.
Myles tuned his guitar. “Let’s start with Graham’s song ‘Apologize.’”
“Fuck you.” With his bass across his hips, hanging from its shoulder strap, Graham crossed his arms. “I’m not singing shit. That’s your job.”
Myles pushed his blond hair off his forehead. “Dude. It’s your song and you fucking kill it. Let’s finally record it.”
Graham glared at Myles. “It’s not going on the new album.”
“Why not?” Myles challenged.
My cell lit up with a new text, and I zoned out of the standoff between Myles and Graham.
Going to bed
Bed? It wasn’t even six o’clock. I typed a reply.
It’s early. You feeling okay?
Her response was immediate.
Fine
What the fuck? My thumbs were on my screen when Myles barked out my name.
“Ben.”
I finished the text.
Are you avoiding me?
I looked up at Myles. “What?”
Graham snorted, and Myles looked irritated as fuck. “You’re the tiebreaker.”
Since when did we use tiebreakers for this kind of shit? “It’s Graham’s song, if he doesn’t want it on the album, it doesn’t go on.” No argument. I didn’t give a shit what Graham did with his songs. I glanced at my phone, but she hadn’t replied.
Graham caught my eye and tipped his chin in thanks.
“So which song then?” Aaron asked.
I sent another text.
Elyssia, talk to me.
Myles rattled off a short set list of four of his new songs, then strummed the chords of the first song.
I picked up my sticks as a single-word text came through from her.
Goodnight