Annie shakes her head as she types something out.I’m just not into boys right now.
“I get it.” I rest my chin on my hand. “You’re going through a girl phase,” I tease. I really do get what she’s saying, but I’m not buying the brushoff she’s trying to sell. I very much want Annie to be into boys. This boy specifically would be a nice start. And who knows? Maybe even a nice stop.
Annie shakes her head frantically. Her lips quiver from a smile to a look of fright as she spastically writes out a response.
I take that back. I am totally into boys. But right now I prefer them between the covers of a book.She takes back her phone and types something else out.Actually, on my Kindle. I’m sort of an e-book hoarder.
“Boys in books, huh?” I don’t bother hiding my amusement.That’s okay. I prefer my girls between the covers, too.I hold back a smile as I flash my response.
Annie averts her eyes at my feeble attempt at humor.
What do you like to read?I flash my phone before taking it back.Let me guess, you’re a little heavy on romance right now?
Annie holds back a laugh and gives a single nod.
“That’s cool.” I type away.It just means I have a lot to live up to. I think I’m up for the challenge.
Her eyes widen a moment, a vibrant shade of blue with just enough lavender to make her seem unreal. I don’t think I’ve seen such beautiful eyes before. I could write a song about them. In fact, I know I will. I reach across the table and pick up her hand again wondering why we have two feet of lacquered wood between us. I hope to God my tried-as-hell brain hasn’t manufactured her. I’ve felt madness skirting around the edges of my psyche since Benji died and with Annie being so perfect I have to wonder if it’s finally settled in.
Maybe it’s time to give the romance novels a rest and live one.I show her my screen.
A pair of beefed up dudes speed in our direction, and it’s not until they’re upon us do I realize it’s just Bryson and Holt.
“What’s up?” Shit. “Was I supposed to do another set?” The last thing I need is to fuck up the gig at the bar. The guys and I all need it right now. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s bolstered the sales of our indie album one hundred percent from zero so that’s something.
“You tell us what’s up.” Holt plucks me out of my seat by the jacket, and I push him off as gently as I can without knocking him out the window. “Dude, that’s our sister. We don’t want to see your fucking hands on her, got it?”
“What?” I glance to Annie who’s standing by my side. She’s pissed, and I can tell slightly afraid of where things might go from here. I hold my hands up in surrender. “I get it. Look, we were just having coffee. I swear that’s all it was.” And by the looks of things, that’s all it’ll ever be.
Bryson’s chest expands twice the size of a refrigerator. “Look, we get it. You can have who you want when you want—just know Annie is off your hit list.” He pulls her in, and she’s quick to sign to the two them, angry and stiff words that I can only guess spell outI’m pissed.
Holt shakes his head at her. “We’re leaving together, and that’s that.” He turns toward the door. “Stay away from Annie if you know what’s good for both you and your band.”
They shuttle her out the door so quick there’s no time for goodbye.
That’s okay. I don’t plan on saying goodbye to Annie anytime soon. It’s funny how Holt had the balls to threaten both me and my band, but he had to turn his head away from Annie to do it.
I can take her brothers. For Annie, I’d take on an entire football team. Nothing is going to stand between us and that hot air balloon ride I owe her.
Annie glances back at me through the window as they cross the street. It looks like her day ended on a crap note just the way it started, only this was one collision I couldn’t pull her out of. I hate to break it to Bryson and Holt, but they can’t hold onto her forever.
I have a feeling she doesn’t want them to.
The undercarriageof a 57 Chevy Impala is a thing of beauty. It’s a powerhouse like no other, and, if I had my way, this right here would be my one and only ride. As it stands I’ve got a truck, newer, raised just a touch too high by the previous douche of an owner. The impossible-to-remove dent in the fender was also an added bonus I acquired at purchase. It was Danny’s clunker. Danny has been the Sin’s drummer for the last three years. Benji slapped the skins before that, then we argued, and that was the end of his run with the band. Benji and I didn’t argue much, but, when we did, it always ended with a dramatic shift in the course of our lives. The last one ended his.
I roll from under the car and pull out my phone. It’s quarter after five, practice is at eight, so I’ve got time to shower, grab a bite and figure out how I’m going to find Annie again. I can’t shake that girl out of my head, and, believe me, I’ve tried. I think maybe this self-imposed female drought has caused me to unnaturally latch onto her, but, the truth is, she seems like the only bright spot I’ve had in my life in months. Just one hit, just a few minutes with Annie was enough to pump me with the desire to open my eyes this morning. I hop to my feet and clean up my work area. I’ve been at the garage now going on seven months.
Joe, the manager, heads over and I can feel my stomach twisting like bungee cords.
“You got it?” He’s big and burly, always with a beer in one hand and his palm out with the other. Byithe means the rent. Benji and I split the rent, but, now that he’s gone, there’s no way I can swing it.
“Nope, I don’t have it man.” I glance across the street at the junkyard. Tiger, the Doberman Pincher barks up a storm at a passerby, and I wonder which old car carcass I’ll have to crawl into just to store my shit.
“All right.” He flicks his fingers. “I told you three weeks ago I’d give you time, but now I see you’re just taking advantage of me. Gimme the keys tonight before the sheriff gets dragged into this.”
“Done.” I dig into my pocket and take the rusted out key off my chain as a show of good will.
“Dude, I didn’t want to do it. I had a brother that died. I understand the shit you’re going through.” He wipes his forehead down with his arm. “Get your stuff out by tomorrow. I’m changing the locks come morning.” He picks up his tool bag and heads to the back of the shop. “Times are tough for everybody. I know you’re a good guy. Your brother was a good guy, but good guys don’t always pay the rent, and I’ve got a mortgage, five kids—two in college. I can’t go on being Mr. Nice Guy. My wife’s got my balls in a vise. She’s got gallbladder surgery in two weeks. The beat goes on. I need someone who pays the piper.”
