“You know what? I’ve had a really crappy day, and I’m sure”—my eyes scanned him—“you have too, but if you could just tone down the dickery for, like, two seconds, that would be swell.”
Several beats passed before I added my own insult to the mix: “Bam-Bam.”
The drummer took a moment to digest the information I’d provided as well as to, perhaps, internalize his own nickname before shocking the hell out of me by checking the time on his imaginary watch and performing a mime where he turned down a pretend dickery dial.
A grin broke across his lips. “Better?”
“Well… yes,” I laughed, the stress instantly dissipating. “I could tell the difference immediately. Thank you.”
He tipped his head, peering up at me under his wet, clumped lashes. I’d never seen anyone as attractive as him in all my life. It wasn’t just his unruly looks that had me hopelessly fawning, but also his talent and the way he spoke to me with edge and a whole lot of mockery. He reminded me of a mishmash of my brothers, only hotter and cooler and every temperature in between. I wanted so badly to get to know him, but I had a feeling he was already done with me.
Or not.
“What a relief.” Bam-Bam’s words reeked of sarcasm as he wiped the sweat off his forehead sitcom-style. “I don’t think I could sleep on the concrete tonight just thinking about how crappy your day has been.”
Was he joking, or was he, as I’d suspected earlier, actually homeless? His wardrobe suggested he was sleeping with rodents, but wasn’t he too young to have fallen through the cracks? There were services available to him. Why didn’t he use them? If he truly was out here all alone, then I felt like a chump because his crappy days trumped mine by a thousand.
I averted my gaze, embarrassed. He must think I was the most cliché basic rich girl. And he’d be right… almost.
“Hey,” he called out. “Girl with no cash.”
My eyes swung back only to catch his mischievous smile and the sticks that were again spinning in his hands. “Stop being so dramatic. I was kidding. Now, can you please step off my stage? I really do have an encore to do.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” I hurried back to the front line. “Do you want me to leave?”
The drummer held me in his stare as he righted the spinning sticks in his grip and let loose the opening beats of “We Will Rock You.” It ripped across his assembly of makeshift drums… all without him once letting go of my eyes.
He said, “I dare you to try.”
8
RORY: ON THE FRINGES
So much for my dare.
The girl stayed through the encore but not a second longer, taking her exit when the rest of the crowd dispersed. I looked for her, naively assuming she’d circle back around, but she didn’t. Don’t even know why I was surprised. It wasn’t like I had the best track record when it came to holding on to things that weren’t mine. Besides, I knew the game. People with options like her didn’t wait around for dead ends like me.
Still, it took courage to stand up to her douchebag boyfriend and pluck to withstand my Richie-Rich name-calling. If anyone could take me up on my dare, it would be her. And if anyone would want to stick around at the end, it seemed like it would be her too, considering how engaged she’d been in my performance. I’d fed off her energy, my tired arms swinging overtime in an effort to impress her. And for all that, I got nothing. It wasn’t like I was asking for the unattainable. I just wanted her to stick around long enough so she could… what? Compliment me? Say goodbye? I mean, what exactly did I think was going to happen? It wasn’t like I could take her back to my place. Get her number. Buy her a meal.
I shook my head, pissed at myself for thinking I had anything of value to offer a girl like that. Besides, if she knew the truth about me, she’d run in the other direction. Frustrated, I turned to the only thing that could cheer me up. Money. Pulling out wads of cash from my beater bucket, I quickly counted out eighty-six dollars. Not bad for a few hours’ work. Enough to bribe my way into a motel room for the night. With no fake ID to prove my age, legally I wasn’t allowed to buy myself a roof over my head. But money talked, and I had a pocket full of cash. Hell, if the girl had stuck around, I might’ve even had enough left over to buy her a meal. At a fast-food joint. If she didn’t supersize.
Not that it mattered now anyway. In a few minutes’ time, I’d make my way back to the seedier side of life, never to see her again. I gathered my belongings and tossed them up against the closest building before sliding down the wall myself. The slick metal siding of the high-rise cooled my fevered skin. It was hot outside, and this was as close to air-conditioning as I got. A few minutes of rest was all I needed to tackle the perilous journey ahead. Taking the walk at night was like trekking through a series of downed power lines: you had to be hyperaware and watch every step. I wasn’t in that headspace yet.
Raking my fingers through my slippery hair, I tipped my head back, longing for a quick nap but knowing that dropping my guard with money in my pocket was inviting armed robbery. So I kept my eyes open and moving, scanning the perimeter with a sniper’s focus. It was during one of those surveillance passes that I saw her walking toward me, the streetlight illuminating the wholesome shine of her beachy curls and the glow of her lotioned skin. She was the picture of health, while I was slowly dying. Tension coiled in my stomach as she approached. I’d wanted her to come back, but now that she had, I didn’t know what to do with my good fortune.
“Surprise,” she said, tucking a strand of freshly conditioned hair behind her ear. It was the only indication she might feel as uneasy in my presence as I did in hers. “It’s me again. The girl with no cash.”
“Oh, I remember.” I nodded. “How’s your night been going? Better?”
“Honestly, it’s looking up.” She brightened, her eyes passing over me and letting it be known I was the source of the uptick. “I’m young and free and hanging out with a wicked cool drummer.”
I smiled, liking the sound of that. The girl had been here for less than a minute, and she was already restoring bits and pieces of my battle-tested ego. I drank her in, a ray of sunshine in the drab, gray landscape. Confident yet cautious. Sweet but tough. This was a girl not ruled by fear. I couldn’t imagine her ever being forced to booby-trap her bedroom door before going to sleep just to give herself a head start when the sun went down.
I’d never seen anyone of her caliber in the flesh. She was like a girl in an ad campaign for Martha’s Vineyard, or maybe sailboats. Classically pretty. Crisp. Clean. She probably even had a spattering of nose freckles under that tastefully applied layer of foundation. Wearing a formfitting white tank top, a crocheted light-gray sweater, white Converse, and a pair of black leggings, the girl’s clothes were carefully chosen to give her a casually cool vibe. It was a conservative outfit, for sure, at least in comparison to her peers who preferred to showcase considerably more skin. Not that I was complaining. Exposed flesh made me look, but only skin deep. I had to wonder if this girl was less influenced by trends or if someone was checking her outfits before she walked out the door. I decided on the latter. This girl had parents who feared for her safety. The kind who would be horrified to know their little precious was talking to me now.
“I thought you left,” I said, trying to keep my need for her companionship from infiltrating my voice.
“No, I was hanging out over there behind the planter.” She pointed in the direction I’d scanned multiple times. So much for my surveillance skills. No wonder I got jumped regularly.
