Santiago
Ihad a lot of thoughts about what happened today, and none of them were good. If I had my way, I’d be at home with a beer instead of sitting in a bar surrounded by people I didn’t know. I needed time to contemplate and process, not socialize.
Time for contemplation wasn’t a luxury I was often afforded.
“I just got a text from Clark. We already have three auditions set up for next week. We’re golden,” Yael said, tapping the screen of her phone.
This section of the bar was quieter, removed partly from the speakers blaring the latest pop remixes, so we could hear each other speak. We’d been sitting in the VIP area a few minutes, kind of staring at each other without much being said. Really, what could we say?
Mo groaned, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Fuck. It all feels fucked, doesn’t it?”
There was that.
Yael slapped his hand away. “Optimism, bro. It’s the key to living your best life. Trust.”
He rolled his eyes at his sister and gave her long ponytail a tug. “I’m optimistic that it’s fucked.”
Murray waved down our waitress, a cute little blonde who was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. She tottered over on shiny red heels, cocking a hip, her tray resting there. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Melody, and I’m taking care of you. What can I get you? Shots for the table?”
Murray leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Hey, lovely. We’re going to need a lot of alcohol. Take the normal amount you think guys like us would drink and double it. We’ve had a real bad day and we’re looking to take the edge off.”
Melody gave a well-practiced giggle. I’d been to enough of these bars and clubs to know the difference between a real laugh and a laugh to earn a bigger tip.
“That sounds epic. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She tottered away, giving an extra sway to her slim hips. She wasn’t especially my type, but she was nice to look at, so I did.
Yael flopped back in her plush, high-back chair, blowing out a puff of air as her arms fell to her sides. “I still can’t believe Diego—”
“Yael,” Murray said sharply, grabbing her attention. “We should probably discuss this when there aren’t little ears everywhere.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Yael replied.
Murray gasped, hand to his chest. “Was that an actual apology? Holy shit, I’m going to write this in my diary.”
I turned back to the table in time to see her flip him off. And he flipped her off right back.
Hewasright. We were never alone and there was never time to talk—which was a big problem. Maybe if we talked, shared observations, we wouldn’t be in the situation we were in. But we’d all been too caught up in ourselves, in the fame, in the music, and here we were, drummerless, less than a month before we headed out on tour.
The girl who’d decided to keep me company this evening rubbed my chest, wiggling close enough for her lemon scent to envelope the air around me.
“I love your music,” she cooed.
I gave her a long look. She was young—tooyoung. It shouldn’t matter. I’d be leaving town in a few weeks. No use for a girlfriend. A warm bed, on the other hand, I always had use for. But I had rules. My own code I never broke, no matter how tempted I got.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I’m twenty-one. Want to see my ID?” She made no move to show it to me, but this wasn’t happening, so I dropped it.
Mo jerked his chin toward me. “Got anything to say, Santi?”
I spread my arms across the back of the leather bench and lifted a shoulder. “Don’t know what you want me to say. We find a drummer next week, maybe we’ll be okay. We don’t, then yeah, we’re fucked.”
He scrubbed his face again, groaning even louder. Yael laughed, shaking her head at me. “Thanks, dude. What a pep talk.”
“Don’t come looking to me for that,” I replied.
I’d known these kids for five years. Guess I couldn’t call them kids anymore, but to me, Mo would always be the scrawny twenty-year-old who’d approached me after a show and asked me to join his band. Murray would always be the kid who carried his skateboard everywhere and didn’t lose his virginity until he was twenty. And Yael would forever be Mo’s little sister. I was twenty-five when I first met them, and now, at thirty, they still seemed like babies.
Mo, Murray, and Yael were friends. They went to high school together, knew each other through and through. I’d been a late addition to the group. Before this morning, Diego and I had been the outsiders. Now, it was down to me and whoever the replacement drummer turned out to be.