In the quiet of Evan’s loft, I sang my heart out. After the second line, Evan came back in with the drums. Easy at first, almost unnoticeable, but then building into a crescendo that complemented the intensity of my voice. As I ripped out the last of the four lines, the guys sang with me. Then every instrument kicked in again, even my acoustic guitar. The hairs were standing up on my arms as we finished the powerful song, and I was grinning ear to ear as the last note faded away. The fans were going to go crazy for this. It would definitely be on our set list for a long time to come.
Wondering if the guys felt the same, I twisted around to meet Matt’s and Evan’s faces. Matt was grinning just as widely as I was. Evan let out a low whistle. “Shit, man. That was awesome. I think it’s ready. We should play it Friday.”
I nodded in agreement. That was just what I’d been thinking. Removing his guitar, Matt set it on its stand and walked over to me. Eyeing me like a doctor observing a patient, he asked, “How’s your throat? That one too high for you? Too intense? We could drop it down a notch and I think it would still work.”
Testing the waters, I massaged my throat and swallowed a couple of times. “No, I feel fine.”
Matt squinted like he didn’t believe me. “We’re going to be singing this song hundreds of times. If you can’t recreate it perfectly each time, then we should modify it so you can. Consistency is what’s important. It doesn’t do us any good if this song fries you.”
My mouth blossomed into a smile at Matt’s equal concern for my well-being and the band’s sound. If it wasn’t for his tenacity, I had no doubt that we wouldn’t be half as good as we were. “I know that, Matt. Trust me, if I couldn’t do this, I would tell you. I know my voice; this song isn’t a problem.”
Seemingly satisfied, Matt finally smiled. “Good. ’Cause that seriously kicked ass.” He laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him.
Gathering up my guitar, I headed for its case resting on Evan’s couch. Thinking of my melancholy mood last night, and remembering one of my reasons for it, I said over my shoulder, “Oh, hey, Joey moved out, so if you guys know anyone looking for a room, my place is open again.” My passionate ex-roommate had moved out a few nights ago, and the house had been really quiet ever since. I hated the oppressive silence.
Griffin had been busy pretending to play his bass to a horde of adoring fans. In between headbanging, he was throwing out devil horns, tongue waggles, and pelvic thrusts. As usual after rehearsal, all of us had been ignoring his over-the-top, I’m-a-rock-star, look-at-me antics, choosing to let him live out his fantasies in peace. He usually ignored our comments too, since they were usually all music related. My last one got his attention though.
His face fell as he set down his guitar. “Joey’s gone? Fuck. Really? What happened?”
I didn’t feel like going into details, so I gave him as vague of an answer as possible. “She got mad, moved out.” Truth was, she’d caught me in bed with another woman and flipped out. Joey and I had fooled around on occasion, but I hadn’t realized how possessive she was until a few nights ago, when she’d practically ripped my nuts off and chased my date down the street. She’d had more than a few choice words for me, but the phrase “You’re going to be alone for the rest of your life, because you’re a worthless piece of shit” was the one that rang in my ears most often.
Griffin saw right through my hazy answer. Thin lips pursed in annoyance, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You nailed her, didn’t you?” I made no response to that. I didn’t even blink. Griffin huffed out an irritated breath. “Goddammit, Kellan. I was supposed to bang her first.”
Even though his argument was absurd and idiotic, I had to smile at him. I hadn’t realized there was a waiting list for my ex-roommate. Matt scoffed at his cousin. “You wanted him to wait sixty years until Joey finally got bored enough to give you the time of day? Nobody has that kind of patience, man.”
Griffin glared daggers into Matt while Evan laughed at his comment. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t talking to you, asswipe.”
Matt wasn’t dissuaded by Griffin’s thought-provoking comeback. Instead of minding his own business, like Griffin had implied, Matt countered with, “And why would Kellan want your seconds anyway? He could catch something. They make after-school specials about crap like that, you know?”
Fire lit up Griffin’s light eyes. “I have to get his seconds all the goddamn time. Why shouldn’t he get mine every once in a while? Seems fair to me.”
Evan started laughing so hard he had to swipe a finger under his eye. Seeing him start to lose it made me laugh too. Matt tried to keep a straight face while he answered Griffin’s inane question, but he struggled. Voice choppy with chuckles, Matt told him, “Kell’s got options. You don’t, cuz. You have to take whatever you can get.”
Not amused, Griffin eyed each one of us in turn. “Fuck you, and you, and you.” With that, he stormed off, the front door banging closed behind him.
Matt sighed as the last of his laughter left him. “I suppose I should go pacify him. We do need his van for the gig tonight.” I thumped his shoulder as he walked by. Good luck.
Two weeks later, I was still living alone in my parents’ empty house when the phone in my kitchen rang.
“Hello?” I asked, picking it up. Leaning back on the counter, I played with a section of the cord while I waited for a response. It was quick in coming.
“Hey, Kellan?”
My lips broadened into a wide smile as recognition hit me. I knew the accent on the other end of the line. I’d know it anywhere. “Denny?”
Just hearing his voice again made me feel lighter, like my worries were already fading. Denny Harris had been one of the brightest spots of my childhood, perhaps the only one. In order to look like freaking saints to their friends, my parents had decided to participate in hosting a sixteen-year-old exchange student when I was fourteen. They hadn’t asked my opinion, of course, but I’d been fine with the arrangement. I’d always wanted a brother, and the idea of having a friend at home for an entire year had sounded amazing.
I’d counted down the days until his arrival, and when the time finally came, I’d bounded down the stairs to meet him.
When I’d rushed into the entryway, a tan, dark-haired teen had been standing between my parents, looking around our home with interested eyes. A polite smile was on his lips as he raised his hand in greeting; his eyes were just as dark as his close-cropped hair. I’d returned his gesture with a crooked grin. I had been the only family member smiling.