“I can sleep here while I wait for you,” I retort, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
I don’t give him time to argue. After a quick wink, I disappear from his view.
CHAPTER TWO
Nova Marshall
PRESENT (2023)
"I've always wanted to be the best guitarist
in the world, ever since I was eight years old."
Peter Frampton
I don’t like to drive. I’m always afraid of getting into an irreparable accident and hurting someone. If it were up to me, I would never drive—but public transportation passes cost too much for me.
My first attempt to get a driver’s license was unsuccessful. Even before I started the exam, I lost control of the car, causing the rear end to crash into a low wall. I even believe the examiner was paid to grant me a license on my second attempt—otherwise, there’s no explaining how he promoted me.
I hate getting stuck in traffic when I’m late for work. I can’t stand the scorching heat of late May, and I know I’ll have to clean up with the band to make up for being late.
I could’ve listened to Steven, but I preferred to stay with him as long as possible. Not that I regret it. I need to spend as much time as I can in his company—and cleaning with the guys isn’tso bad. They’re fun, and I’m lucky enough to settle in with live music while hearing them sing as they mop the tables.
Most of the time, we eat all the leftover french fries and play basketball with greasy baskets and napkins. Having fun together can make enjoyable even the most tedious and exhausting actions.
This is why, on the way to Speedy’s Pizza, I turned the radio volume up to maximum and sang along to all the Bonnie Tyler songs on the CD I got when I finally earned my driver’s license. And that’s why, at seven o’clock in the evening and an hour late, I’m making a blatant entrance into the restaurant with headphones in my ears and a rolled-up newspaper as a microphone.
Finding something funny in what frustrates me is the best way to get back to smiling—or at least to make a situation less unpleasant.
When I cross the threshold of Speedy’s Pizza, I find the restaurant filled with people. The stage at the back of the room is empty, and my colleagues spin like tops between tables. I didn’t think it would be so full today—it’s still Wednesday, and midweek there are never this many customers.
“Natalie, where have you been?” a voice calls back to me, its tone irritated and desperate. I turn around, putting my hands behind my back and giving Mary an angelic smile. She’s the owner of the restaurant—my boss. She hates me and always confuses my name on purpose.
“I got stuck in traffic.”
“Again?”
I shrug, muttering some half-hearted excuses for being late, but she cuts me off before I can come up with a proper one. She seems too busy to scold me today.
“Listen, it doesn’t matter. I understand.” She gives me an understanding look. “Now, though, put on your apron and gohelp Will take orders at the tables. There are so many people that I had to call Jasper and ask him to work today, too.”
I stare at her. Why does she have this look full of compassion? She usually scolds me for a good ten minutes before sending me to work.
“Natalie? Are you listening to me?”
“Hmm? What?”
She frowns. “What’s wrong with you today?”
I ignore the question. “What about the band?”
She flinches, placing her hands on her hips in disappointment. “Didn’t you read my texts?”
I probably didn’t. I don’t think I had my phone on for more than five minutes all day.
“I... I was going to,” I stammer.
She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’ve hired a guy to fill in for Cody, Amelie, and Jack while they’re in the studio. He’ll help you with cleanup after closing.”
