“Hey, as much as I love standing in as your girlfriend while you practice proposing, we’ve got to start getting ready for the show,” Logan said, interrupting my thoughts.
I nodded and helped him break down and pack up his drum set, which took up half of the front room in our tiny apartment. We could have chosen a place a little farther out of the city which would have given us more space for less rent, but Logan insisted on being “in the middle of it all.” I didn’t mind it much, except for on Saturdays when our neighbor hosted dance parties all night long. After we graduated from NYU, it only made sense that Logan and I would keep living together because we had become suchgood friends. We had our differences, but for the most part, the past several years had been pretty fun.
We finished packing up the set, grabbed everything we could carry, then headed out the door and started carefully descending seven flights of stairs with our first load. About halfway down Logan missed a step and almost fell over the railing.
“The adventures of seventh floor living,” Logan said after he had steadied himself.
“The view almost makes risking our lives every day worth it,” I joked.
We reached the curb and Logan pulled out his phone.
“Marco says he’ll be here in about five minutes,” he said, breathing heavily. “How about I wait here for him while you go up and get the rest?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why do I always have to do twice the work?”
“Well,” Logan replied, “you clearly like working out because you’re at the gym all the time, so I’m just giving you an opportunity to do something you love.”
I shrugged. “I like going to the gym. It helps me think. Sometimes I write songs in there.”
Logan chuckled. “Hm, I can’t wait to hear the bench press love song.”
“Hey, you never know. It might just be a hit.”
Logan laughed for a bit before giving me a pointed look. I sighed and headed back up to our apartment, taking the steps two at a time and nearly running into Mrs. Simmons, our elderly downstairs neighbor.
“So sorry!” I exclaimed. “Are you alright?”
“Oh, I am more than alright,” she said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Mr. Finlay, you are welcome to slam your body into mine at any time, if you know what I mean.”She looked me up and down and gave me a very deliberate wink.
“Okay, have a nice day,” I said, laughing nervously, then ran up the rest of the stairs a little faster than I needed to. Interacting with inappropriate older women was just one of the many charms of living in Manhattan.
By the time I made it back down to the curb, Marco had already arrived and they were loading the van.
“Is Logan making you do all the work again?” Marco asked as he grabbed a bag from me and placed it expertly in the back of the van.
“It would be an off day if he wasn’t,” I replied.
“Hey!” Logan exclaimed defensively. “We all have our token character traits. That’s what makes this band work.”
Marco snorted. “So, you’re the lazy one...”
“I prefer to be described as the delegator,” Logan interjected.
“Collin is the pretty one...”
I shook my head and laughed. “Please, you’re making me blush.”
“And I am the Tetris master.” Marco stepped back to admire his work. All of our gear was packed snugly into the van with a slim space left to fit a keyboard.
“So what does that make Jeremy?” Logan asked.
“The Canadian one,” Marco replied. “Let’s go pick him up.”
We climbed in the van and headed over to Jeremy’s place in Queens.
A couple years ago, we all decided to buy a vehicle for the band, mainly so we’d have a way to transport all our gear around when we had gigs. It had become really difficult and awkward to try and cart our stuff around in the subway or in taxis. Marco kept the van most of the time because hisbuilding had the most affordable parking. Marco was our bass player, and Logan and I had met him back at college in one of our classes. We met Jeremy when we went on our first tour to Canada. He played the keyboard. He didn’t really contribute much musically, except for adding some texture every once in a while. His real value was that he acted as our band manager, booking gigs and selling tracks and merchandise. The arrangement was mutually beneficial. He got to fulfill his dream of being in a band, and we got to make a living doing what we loved. It really had been a great few years. We had toured in places I’d always dreamed of visiting, like Iceland, China, and Great Britain. I had even gotten to visit my grandparents in Scotland and persuaded them to reconnect with my father. And while the band hadn’t really “made it big,” we had a loyal fanbase and were making decent money. Life was great, and yet, I kept getting the feeling that something was missing. Maybe that’s why I was about to propose to Carly. I thought that perhaps being married would fill that void.
We pulled up in front of Jeremy’s building where he was waiting for us, holding his keyboard close to his chest as if someone was going to run by and steal it.
