“He didn’t even make sure I made it to my car okay. What kind of guy does that? I mean, I get that he doesn’t like me and that’s just…whatever. But he wants to pretend like he’s so much betterthanme.”
Avery turned off the car and looked over at me. “I invited you out tonight because I think The Band puts on a good show and it’s a lotoffun.”
“And your boyfriend plays theguitar.”
“The bass,” shecorrected.
“Fine,thebass–”
“But,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to listen to you complain about Rainier all night. It’s like you’re obsessed with him orsomething.”
“Aves, have you been listening to a wordI’vesaid?”
“Yeah, and literally every single one of them has revolved around that boy. Rainier this and Rainier that and I can’t believe Rainier didn’t walk me to my car. You haven’t stopped talking about him since I pickedyouup.”
“Because he’s a jerk,” Iremindedher.
“So I’ve heard,” she said under her breath, as we got out of the car. She started walking toward the bar before stopping and turning toward me. “You haven’t even asked me about my trip to Mexico, which was awesome by the way. You don’t seem excited to hear my boyfriend’s band, even though I’ve been begging you to come to a show for what feels like forever. The last time you came was the first time they played. You are acting like typical Michelle, and I’m asking you, for justonenight, can you please let this be aboutsomeoneelse?”
Whoa. Avery and I had our share of disagreements and fights, but I didn’t think I’d ever seen her like this. She was angry, every part of her body was strung tight, from the stern expression on her face to the way she stood firmly planted onbothfeet.
Normally I would tell her exactly where she could shove that attitude, but not tonight. First, because I could see she felt strongly about it. We were best friends, and maybe it was time for me to be a little supportive. But second, and probably the biggest reason, she’d driven tonight. I was not getting stranded in this hell-hole, and I was not going to walk around from person to person looking for a differentridehome.
Nothappening.
“You’re right,” I conceded. “I can’t wait to hear The Band and watch Carter playthebass.”
There. Isaidit.
Avery’s face softened, and her body relaxed. “Thanks, Michelle. I know this isn’t your thing, but I like Carter. I want to be supportive. Plus, they are so good. You might end up having agoodtime.”
Somehow I doubted that, but I followed her into Wild Bill’s. We had to show our ID’s and then got the ugliest effing wristbands and X’s on our hands that told everyone we were jailbait. Well, not exactly jailbait at nineteen, but I still hated being underage in a bar. Even with it being teen night, I felt like a completeimpostor.
“Oh, look,” Avery yelled from beside me. “They’re already on stage. Come on.” And with that, she was grabbing my hand and pulling me to the front of thestage.
Owen Jacobs walked up to the microphone at that exact moment to introduce the band. He looked disgusting with his greasy hair and tight jeans that showed off his skinny stick-legs. He wore a sleazy smile as he introduced The Band. Were they ever going to come up with a real name? The first time Avery told me the name, I thought she was kidding or didn’t understand my question. It turned out the guys were too lazy to come up withanything.
“Good evening,” he said into the microphone with a tilt of his head. Wait, was he speaking with a British accent? “We’re the Band.” Holy crap, he was speaking with an accent. I laughed even though no one could hear me. This was River Valley, not some big city where people didn’t know him. I went to high school with the guy. Granted, he was a couple of years older than me. Did he really think he could just change his voice and people wouldn’tnotice?
A quick glance over at the other girls who were close to the stage made me see that apparently, he could change his accent and no, people didn’t seem to notice or care. Three girls in homemade The Band shirts screamed while they jumped upanddown.
Again, this was River Valley. Population 5,000? Maybe less. There was absolutely no reason to get this worked up over a band. I rolled my eyes at Avery who gave me a pleading look inreturn.
“I’m going to get a soda,” I yelled over the music that had justbegun.
Avery gave me another look, but didn’t argue as I walked away. I could still hear the music from the bar area. What did it matter if I was standing so close to the stage I could see every bit of Owen’s pitstains?
I sat down at the bar, which was mostly empty, and got my drink. Not bothering to look up, I listened to the music while I scrolled on my phone. Nothing exciting. A few people posted about being here and watching the show. I wanted to respond withYeah, I see you in the crowd of 50, but resisted forAvery’ssake.
When I finally did look up to check in with Avery, I saw her dancing to the songs like the perfect groupie girlfriend. Her gaze never leaving the stage. Carter played enthusiastically, his head bent down as he did a weird dance back and forth on his feet that looked hardcoreswaying.
I looked over at the other guitarist who looked much more uncomfortable in his skin. His movements were jerky, and a baseball cap obscured my view of his face. Who was that guy? I thought Cooper played the guitar in this group but remembered he’d broken his arm. Why hadn’t I asked Averyaboutit?
Oh, yeah, I was too busy with myobsessionwith Rainier, whatever that meant. Just then the guitarist looked up from hisinstrument.
You had to bekiddingme.
Of course, it would be Rainier. I was stuck in one of the circles of hell if only I could remember which one was which. All I knew was I couldn’t get away from him. It was infuriating. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd before theymetmine.
