Sound Bites: A Rock & Roll Love Story (9 page)

“Yeah, I mean, when we first start talking, he seemed like he had a bit of an attitude,” Beth said. “But after a few minutes, he grew on me. He’s very honest. He’s not one of those macho guys that act like they have something to prove, like those other jerk-offs you’ve
dated
. He’s…
different.”

“Beth, we’re just friends,” I reminded her.

Beth rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, you know you have the hots for him.” Her eyes drifted over to the bar as she studied Dylan. “He has this sort of intense, hypnotic sexual aura about him. Like the way he looks at you. It’s like his eyes are saying ‘I can do anything I want to you’ with this unspoken confidence. You know what I mean?”

Kat and I collapsed into a fit of giggles. Beth’s favorite pastime was to overanalyze anyone and anything until she felt she had it one-hundred percent figured out.

“You’re so neurotic,” I said, still laughing. “You and your observations.” I had to hand it to her, her first impression of Dylan couldn’t be more right, but I’d be damned if I admitted that out loud.

“Okay, everyone,” Eddie announced, stepping up to the microphone. “First off, I want to start by wishing Renee a happy birthday.” The whole room burst into applause while I sulked in the corner. I hated making a big deal out of my birthday. “And second, Jesse, Adam and I are going to play a couple tunes for you. Do you guys have any requests?”

“Will you guys play the airplane song?” Beth asked in that whiny voice she always used when she wanted something. Eddie looked over at his band mates, who both nodded in approval.

Their lead singer, Jesse, had written a song about his recent red-eye flight home from Chicag
o, when he’d gotten a blowjob from
some random cougar who was seated next to him in first class. They called it “Generosity.”

Dylan reappeared and took a seat next to me as the boys rocked out “Generosity,” followed by a few more shout-out requests. Once they were about halfway through the set, Eddie announced that they were going to take a quick break to grab a few drinks. He ran over to the bar and sucked back a few more shots, motioning for Dylan to join him.

“You want to do a shot?” Dylan asked me before heading over to the bar.

I considered. “Sure.”

I followed Dylan over to the bar, where Eddie introduced us to Justin. Justin looked more like someone’s dad than an aspiring rock star, with his worn out work boots and tiny beer belly, but I liked the way he repeatedly bobbed his head like he had a built-in radio playing at all times. After sucking back a tequila shot, I politely backed away to study their conversation, trying to gauge Dylan’s level of intoxication. I figured the more drinks he consumed, the more likely he’d be to drunkenly agree to any newfound band opportunities.

After Dylan disappeared upstairs, Eddie snuck over to me, looking guilty. “I got the ball rolling and mentioned the fact that Justin needs a new singer in front of your friend. So I figured I’ll give him a few more shots and then we’ll bring it up again and see what he thinks. It’s worth a shot.” He threw his head back and laughed uncontrollably. “Get it? A s
hot
!” Eddie thought he was hilarious sometimes. 

Nearly two hours passed before the party started winding down. At the end of the night, Beth and Kat were the only ones who stayed to keep me company while the boys continued to jam out in between tequila sessions. I could sense that Dylan was not only getting comfortable around my friends, but he was also getting very drunk. A hopeful thought occurred to me that Eddie’s plan just may work. 

“You were right,” Dylan slurred, sidling up to me at the bar. “You’re friends are pretty cool. And they have kick-ass taste in music, too.” He pointed to the back wall, which was mounted with hundreds upon hundreds of CD’s from Eddie’s collection. “He’s got some good shit back there. Tons of bootlegs I’ve never even seen. And Mad Season covering the Beatles… how badass is that?”

“Well, speaking of music,” I said, ever-so-casually. “Since it’s just us, how about you go up there and sing something with Eddie’s band?” I smiled innocently. “Just one song?”

He rolled his eyes. “Renee, you’re like a whiny little kid
.
How many times do I have to tell you, I’d love to but…”

“You’d love to what?” Eddie interjected, sneaking up behind us.

“Eddie, help me out here,” I told him. “Dylan has this ridiculous voice… it’s like Thom Yorke meets Freddie Mercury meets Jeff Buckley. But he won’t sing in front of people. I’m trying to convince him to just go for it.”

Dylan shot me a look that could’ve sent lions running. “It’s not that simple,” he explained. “I love to play music, but I just get really nervous when I’m in front of people. My voice gets shaky, my palms get sweaty and I sound like shit.”

Eddie feigned the most obviously fake surprise face I’d ever seen. “You don’t say! Dude, why didn’t you say something when we mentioned that Justin needed a singer? You should jam with them sometime. Jeff and Christian are great guys, too.”

Dylan shook his head, his eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t think so, man.”

“Come on,” Eddie insisted. “Let’s go have another drink, and we’ll talk to Justin about it.”

Dylan flashed us a look and reluctantly followed Eddie over to the bar. I walked over to Beth and pretended to listen to her babble while sneaking glances at Dylan out of the corner of my eye. Finally, Eddie came strolling over while Dylan and Justin were still in conversation at the bar.

“So, what did he say?” I gritted through my teeth, trying not to be obvious.

“He said he’ll think about it,” Eddie said, shrugging.

I scowled. Saying you’ll think about something usually isn’t a good sign. It’s like when you’re little and your parents say “we’ll see.” It virtually always means no.

“So, do you think he’ll go for it?” Eddie asked.

I looked up at him doubtfully. “We’ll see.”

***

“You’re doing it.”

“Absolutely not.”

I’d managed to wait a few days for Dylan’s hangover to subside before badgering him about Justin’s band.

“Come on,” I insisted. “You could at least consider it.”

“What don’t you get?” He threw his arms in the air. “I’ve told you a million times how I feel, and you just continue to harp on me.”

“Because you’re being ridiculous. You have a talent that most people would kill for, and you might as well flush it down the toilet if no one is ever going to see it.” My voice softened a bit, as I realized I was getting nowhere by yelling. “Dylan, just think about it. Please.”

His eyes shifted from the floor, then to me and then back to the floor. I knew he was considering it. He just needed an extra push.

“Renee, I
can’t
. I’m sorry.”

I could feel my cheeks start to burn as soon as the words escaped his mouth. “I’m going to tell you something that someone once told me; living in fear isn’t living at all.”

I turned and slammed his apartment door shut. I knew I was acting like a toddler, but I’d be damned if I was going to sit back and watch him sing in his living room for the rest of his life. I ran down to my apartment and sat down on my couch, waiti
ng to hear a knock, hoping he’d
show up and tell me he’d changed his mind.

He never came.

Chapter
10

Five days had passed and I had yet to hear from Dylan. Half of me wanted to ignore him until he stopped being a stubborn jackass while the other half wanted to swallow my pride and apologize to him. I chose the latter.

I decided to pay him a surprise visit before I headed off to work. I’d been feeling guilty for the past week about pressuring him into performing when he obviously wasn’t ready. The truth was, he may never be ready, and that was something I’d have to deal with.

I had my apology speech all prepped and ready to go until some skanky redhead answered his door and caught me completely off guard. I stood there in a state of panic, fumbling to make some sort of comprehendible words come out of my mouth.

“Hi,” I greeted, trying to sound friendly. I’m almost positive that I came off sounding completely and utterly shocked instead. “Is Dylan around?”

Idiot Skank Girl looked me up and down, sizing me up. She was about a step below Christina in the looks department, with tousled auburn hair and heavy makeup that was undoubtedly left over from the night before. “No,” she replied. “Who are you?”

“Just tell him Renee stopped by. I live upstairs.”

She nodded and shut the door without another word. A twinge of jealousy formed in my gut as I tried to envision Dylan in bed with that disgusting troll. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how such a beautiful, talented soul could end up with these moronic whores.

I came to the conclusion that, as intelligent and interesting as Dylan may be, he was still a man. And men were pigs. All of them.

The next eight hours at work were torture. I couldn’t get Dylan out of my head. I really wanted to apologize for acting like an immature idiot and storming out of his apartment, but intruding on him and his latest flavor of the week was the last thing that was going to aid me in my quest for reconciliation.

As soon as I got home from work, I drowned my sorrows in chocolate chip ice cream and old episodes of Melrose Place, my secret guilty pleasure. They played reruns of it on the soap channel every night, and I watched them so often that you’d think it was a modern TV show.

I was about half a carton deep in chocolate chips when I heard a knock at my door. I bounced up from my couch and glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair was in a messy ponytail, I had a smudge of mascara under my left eye and a giant wad of chocolate on the corner of my mouth. I looked no better than Idiot Skank Girl. I fixed my hair, wiped away the mascara and chocolate smears and ran over to open the door.

Relief washed over me when I saw Dylan hovering in my doorway, looking ever-so-serious. He was wearing a fitted navy t-shirt that turned his eyes an unrealistic shade of blue, and he smelled like a mix of pine and peppermint. I wanted to bury my face in his chest.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

I nodded and he followed me in the living room. He sat down next to me on the couch, which was odd considering he usually sat in the chair on the opposite side of the room.

“I heard you stopped by today.” I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or relieved. Sometimes he was so expressionless that he was impossible to read.

“Yeah, I hope I didn’t get you into trouble with your little girlfriend,” I said, tossing my childish envy into the room with a loud thump. I wanted to kick myself as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to come off sounding so bitter. 

A subtle smile inched slowly across his face. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well she was there awfully early this morning. Who is she?”

“An old friend.” I hated when he acted so secretive because then I had to act like I didn’t care, when in reality I wanted to toss a thousand questions at him.

“She’s quite a looker.” There it was again, my jealously slithering into the middle the room, echoing through the walls. What the hell was wrong with me? I used to be the master at this game. I’d been schooled by Justine, the finest master of “how to make a man misplace his brain over you,” and was a pro at bullshitting the utmost level of confidence until the guy was dumb enough to actually believe it. But ever since Dylan came along, I’d lost my touch. I needed to get back in the game.