“You good with the 80’s tunes we gave you?” Tom asked Sebastian after about an hour of practice. Ani stayed only long enough to make sure the three of us were going to be able to move past the awkwardness. Then she’d gone home to meet Paulo online for their afternoon date. She would probably do something with her folks tonight now that she didn’t have to go to our show, which had been canceled by the guy who hired us, not by a disgruntled Tom after all. He’d come down with either food poisoning or a stomach flu, and the party was postponed indefinitely. Although we offered him a refund of his deposit, he insisted we keep it, so between that and the significant tip from Belinda, we did all right for the weekend.
“Sure.” Sebastian nodded, glancing curiously back and forth between us, but he didn’t say anything else. I could tell he was being careful, keeping his words few, but I was okay with that. I still felt a little battered by the emotions of the afternoon, and I didn’t think I could pretend like nothing had happened between us.
“What do you think, Tish?” Tom propped his hip onto a tall stool and rested his guitar on his thigh. “Should we introduce him to Taylors next Friday?”
Sebastian’s expression was guarded when he looked at me, like he wanted me to think he didn’t care what I thought. Well, I had no reservations about him joining us for this one, too. If he could pick up our stuff so easily, surely he could pull off a night of popular 80’s music.
“Sure.” I adjusted my strap and played the hook for Metallica’s “Master of Puppets.” Sebastian’s eyes widened appreciatively when I transitioned into Ozzy’s “Crazy Train.” I grinned at him. Without fail, guys always seemed surprised to hear me play stuff like that. I had to admit, too, that I liked seeing that look in their eyes. I especially liked seeing it in Sebastian Jeffries’ eyes. He didn’t play along, but I smiled when his left hand slid up and down the fretboard on his own guitar, mirroring mine as I riffed.
“This coming Friday we play at Taylors, one of the big clubs off Bernadine Way.” Tom raised his voice over my playing and I deadened my strings sheepishly. “Know the place?”
“Seen you play there.”
“Oh. Good. So you know we play mostly 70’s, 80’s and some 90’s stuff with a little Marauders thrown in to keep it real.”
Sebastian nodded. “I’m game. I’m especially good with the 80’s stuff.” Which didn’t surprise me at all, having heard his guitar playing. His 80’s guitar legend influences were pretty obvious. He’d probably taken the CDs we’d given him to learn just to be polite.
“Will you be wearing spandex or parachute pants, then?” I asked him without blinking.
Sebastian stilled noticeably although his expression remained carefully neutral. “Um, are those my only choices?”
Tom burst out laughing and clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. “As long as you don’t show up in a Miami Vice suit, you’re cool.” He tipped his head toward me. “She harasses me non-stop to go for broke one of these days and break out some David Lee Roth spandex, but my package would scare the ladies.”
“Gah! Tom! Stop. I just threw up in my mouth a little.” I flicked my pick at him and he dodged it nimbly.
“For the good of all womankind, my friend,” he said sagely to Sebastian, “I expunged my 80’s spandex collection from my closet.”
“You’re one selfless dude, Tom.” I, on the other hand, loved my 80’s wardrobe. Half the clothes in my closet looked like they came from the dressing rooms of all the queens of arena rock. I didn’t perm and tease my hair, but I certainly knew how to whip it (whip it good) with the best of them.
I had put on a bandanna again before coming down, and I broke into the opening riff for “Sweet Child of Mine.” Tom, always good for some Axl Rose snake dancing, got into the spirit. Sebastian picked up the bass line on his Strat, and I nodded encouragingly, thrilled to see him joining in the fray.
But when he launched us into Def Leppard’s “Rock of Ages” with the German-sounding gibberish Mutt Lange had made up in lieu of a count off for the band, I knew we had us a winner. For Marauders, at least. I still wasn’t so sure about Sebastian and me working together. The unsettling attraction I felt toward him warred with the knowledge that he was stiff competition and would push me to new levels, something I wasn’t accustomed to. And I, being the sister of four brothers, was entirely too competitive not to have trepidation about bringing him into my perfectly-aligned world, especially after the way things had gone down a few hours ago. The whole scene was a red flag waving, and I couldn’t afford to ignore it.
“We get to Taylors around eight PM to set up,” Tom explained. “We’re not officially on until nine, but we typically just start playing when we’re ready to go.”
“Two sets, a fifteen-minute break in the middle of each set, and an hour lunch break between sets. We start with the pop dance stuff to get everyone loosened up,” I expounded. “But we’ll take it up little by little until we’re pulling out some AC/DC and Sabbath to keep the guys happy who are still standing at the end of the night.”
“Sounds good. So you want me to play both sets or just be there for introductions?”
Tom and I exchanged glances. I was game, but I knew we were looking at some of Tom’s last shows with the band, and I wanted him to have the final say. “Why don’t you choose a couple of songs from the second set and we’ll have you join us for those. I have a play list at the sound board.”
I loved playing at Taylors. The club atmosphere was loud and boisterous, filled with people out on a Friday night who just wanted to have some fun with their cronies, or dance off the stress of the work week with the one they loved. In all the time we’d played there, I’d never witnessed a fight. I’d watched a few people get tossed out by Jannie’s bouncers—two beefcakes who knew how to do their jobs well—and I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that the place had a significant number of regulars. And we were partly responsible for that, according to Jannie. I wasn’t much of a partier myself. Although I loved to dance, I rarely drank. Being in the band was my favorite way to experience the club, on stage, slightly detached from the melee, an observer more than a full-on participant. I knew Tom would drag me into the fray at some point, coerce a dance or two out of me, and I’d agree to a few more offers, knowing Tom was hovering close by, keeping a watchful eye on me. But being in the band gave me an excuse to pull back if things got uncomfortable.
And honestly, sometimes they did, even at Taylors. Because I was petite and looked a certain way in my bold make up and fitted garb, if I wasn’t careful, I could get targeted for stuff I wanted no part of. Being under Tom’s protection was my security, and I’d never had any real trouble.
“The tips are good, too,” Tom added, as though he thought Sebastian still needed convincing. “No pole dancing with the patrons required.”
“Doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” I muttered acerbically.
Tom ducked his head and gave me a puppy-dog look. “I’ll be a better man, I promise.”
***
I was ready to call it a day in the studio. I felt guilty even admitting it to myself, but I was kind of hoping Tom would wrap things up and head home, so I could have a little time to talk with Sebastian alone, to clear the air between us one-on-one. Tom and I would be fine. We always were. We’d had many an argument in the years we’d been friends and always worked through it. But I didn’t want Sebastian thinking that this was the status quo with us; that we fought and then pretended all was well with the world. I didn’t want him to worry that we ran the band on emotions. Because we didn’t. It was Tom’s leaving that had us in this turbulent state, and Sebastian, being the replacement, was bound to get caught in the crossfire. I wanted him to know that it wouldn’t always be like this.
Besides, even though Sebastian was clearly comfortable with the music and seemed to be enjoying this practice session in spite of how it came about, he was definitely more reserved than he’d been all week, focusing his attention more on Tom than on me. It was almost like he was doing it for the sake of Tom’s pride, which was very thoughtful of him, but it left me feeling a little third-wheel-ish.
Not that Tom was doing anything that might make me want him to leave. In fact, I hadn’t seen a sad smile on his face since plugging in. But there was no other way to put it; there was definitely a third-wheel element going on, and in this case, I was numero tres.
I’m the worst best friend in the world.
I couldn’t help beating myself up a little as I peered through the glass panel at Tom and Sebastian in the mixing room. They were both so focused, so intent, heads bowed together as they studied the play list for next week’s party on the computer monitor.
I lowered myself to a stool and picked up my old Hummingbird acoustic. I didn’t want to go in there with them; the space felt too close this afternoon. Strumming a few chords, I began to sing a song I’d been working on over the last few weeks, something I’d written loosely inspired by my mixed feelings about Tom.
In these lonely halls I hear an echo of the way things used to be
In these empty rooms, the song of laughter is only a memory
I close my eyes and drift away on wings of shattered glass
But the darkness feeds on loneliness, on love that cannot last.
So is this how it is then?
Is this is how it has to be?
Two souls divided for eternity?
So this is how it happens?
Now and forever?
We go our separate ways
Happily ever… never
Happily ever never
I stumble through the shadows calling out your name
Through all the might haves and the could haves and the what if one days
But it’s time for me to leave these four walls and move on
Cuz they won’t guarantee tomorrow when today is already gone.
I fall asleep to a single heartbeat
I lie awake to the pain of the heartbreak
I’ll try to move on now that you’re gone
My strumming quieted as the emotions of the song washed over me. I barely croaked out the rest of it, repeating the last part of the chorus almost a cappella, my voice fading into silence.
So this is how it has to be.
From now until forever.
We’ll go our separate ways
Happily ever, happily ever… never.
“Tish?” Tom’s quiet voice pulled me from my reverie. Both guys were standing on the other side of the window, arms crossed, watching me. The intercom crackled again. “Something new, huh?” Or maybe it was Tom’s voice that crackled. He was clearly moved by the song I’d just played, and knowing me the way he did, I figured he knew exactly what it was about. “You want to put that down?”
My throat tightened and I just shook my head. I did love my friend, sometimes so much it hurt. And I wished I could believe I’d grow to love him the same way he loved me. I wished for it with every fiber of my being.
“What’s it called?” Tom asked.
“‘I’m not sure. ‘Happily Ever Never,’’” I said a little hesitantly. “Silly, I know. Maybe ‘Empty Rooms.’” I would not cry in front of them, so help me. I returned my acoustic to its case and joined them. “I think I need a break, guys.”
Sebastian still hadn’t said a word, but I could see by the way his heavy brows were lowered that there was some serious pondering going on behind those eyes.
Those pretty, pretty eyes.
I crossed my arms over the fluttering in my stomach, took a deep steadying breath, and met his unwavering gaze. I needed to say something, to acknowledge the fallout of the day in some way. “Thanks for sticking it out with us, Sebastian. I’m glad—we’re glad—all the Marauders are glad to have you.”
It was a mistake to look at him when I did. Something went soft and deep in his eyes as he watched me fumble for words. He, too, still had his arms crossed, and I sensed in him the same effort to hold something at bay.
Tom cleared his throat, not rudely. “So, are we done for the day? Or do you want to come back later this evening since there’s no gig? I can call the guys, too, if you want to do a full band practice.”
I shrugged and looked down at the toes of my Toms. “I’m not sure about me, Tom. You two are welcome to hang out and play without me, though. You know that.” I reached up and slid the bandanna off my head, ruffling my hair with the other hand. “Don’t leave before you get a key from me, though, okay?” I caught Sebastian’s eye quickly so he’d know I was talking to him.
“Me? A key?” He obviously needed more clarification than that.
“Yes. You. A key. Everyone in the band has a key to the studio. That way, you can just come in the side door if no one is home.” I nodded toward the far end of the studio where the exterior door was camouflaged by a life-sized Bigfoot poster. Sly was arguably the creature’s most devoted believer.
“You don’t know me,” Sebastian stated flatly. It almost sounded like he was offended by my trust.
It was my turn to furrow my brow at him. “I know you well enough, especially after today. And I’ve heard you play. You’re the one who wanted to join the band. If you’re going to steal our gear, you won’t get to be a poopdeck swabber, okay?” I turned to go, feeling unexpectedly saddened by the way he’d said those words. “Just come inside and find me before you leave. I’ll have your key ready.”