Page 41 of Broken Melody
Strumming my guitar I try to act like this isn’t the tenth time I’ve looked at the door waiting eagerly for Sailor to arrive. It’s our first practice with her and I’m anxious to get started. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. But I know the real reason. I want to see Sailor again. First I need to determine how pissed off she is at me after last night. Maybe I’ll be lucky and she’ll understand, think nothing of it, and then I can flirt with her a bit and we can get back to the way we were together last night – before it all went to shit.
Looking around the room, I almost laugh. Nixon, Henley and Rocco are already here too. We booked time at a studio downtown, and I arrived first. It wasn’t long after I checked us in and was given a studio number before they each started to arrive – one after the other. All looked tired and hung over, yet somehow all here early. None of us have said a word about it to the other, but we all know this is the first time in… hell I don’t know how long… that we’ve all not only shown up on time, but early. Clearly, I’m not the only one feeling a bit of anticipation and excitement about adding Sailor to the group today which is ironic considering how much we’ve all bitched about it since receiving the ultimatum.
While waiting, I absently start playing a song, but it’s just setting the background music to the thoughts running through my head. Last night watching Sailor leave the club made me feel emotions I don’t quite understand. Emotions I don’t think I care to define. I keep replaying what happened between us over and over in my mind. How it felt to dance with her, our bodies pressed close together. I think about how much I liked kissing her, having my hands on her, being pressed against her. I can feel myself hardening again at the thought and shift in my seat to ease the pressure. Her body under my hands seemed to come alive. It was like trying to hold an exploding firecracker. Over and over again I imagine what it would have been like to get her underneath me, naked, sweaty and wanting. To have had more time to kiss her, touch her, press against her. Her body under my hands seemed to come alive. I need a swift kick in the ass. I never should have gone back up to the VIP area with her. I should have taken her hand and left, leaving everyone else that came with us on their own. If I had been smart, I would have brought her back to my place and finished what we started.
Instead, I led her back up the stairs and to what was the beginning of the end of our night. That fucking bouncer ruined everything when he let the triplets into the room. Before I could begin to handle them, I saw the look that swept over Sailor’s face. I saw her want for me fade into disgust as she heard the words they spoke. I saw the fire in her eyes dim to ashes, blowing away as she took in the scene before her. Watching her emotions made my own throat feel scorched from shame and words to explain escaped me.
As much as I hadn’t wanted her to leave it was a good thing she left when she did. Initially, I kindly told the girls I wasn’t interested in hanging out and to please leave. They continued to touch me, hang on me, and tell me the things they wanted to do together. Becoming increasingly angry, at the security guard, at them, at the fact Sailor walked out the door – my demands became more assertive. I called for the bouncer to remove them. In response, one started crying and another grabbed onto my leg like a toddler and refused to let go.
Looking at them in disbelief, I was distracted by Nixon returning to the room and laughing his ass off. Instead of helping, he pulled out his phone to take a video. The asshole. Finally, hearing the commotion, other bouncers appeared and managed to get the girls out of the room. It was all fucking ridiculous but also my fault.
They acted stupidly, but initially they were only asking for a repeat of what I’d done with them before. I’d made headlines with them previously. It wasn’t long ago we were all photographed stumbling out of the club together. Like a douche I smirked at the camera like I was some hot shot. They were all hanging on me, and drunk as hell we got into our waiting car and left. But not before creating a spectacle that was captured in all the gossip columns the next day. Predictions of how long before I imploded were made as well as predictions I was headed to rehab soon for drug and alcohol addiction.
Truth is, I’ve never touched a fucking drug. Well, there was that one time that I smoked weed with the guys in high school. We thought we were badass when Henley managed to steal some of his mom’s stash. We all went down to the beach and tried it. I got sick from it, and have never cared to try it again. To my knowledge the guys stay away from the hard stuff too although I have seen them smoke weed backstage before or after a show. I prefer a clear head when I perform. The crowd, music, and my guitar in my hands are all the high I need.
After Sailor left, all I wanted to do was leave as well. Unfortunately, we hung out a little while longer. When the girls had been removed, Nixon told me that Henley was hooking up with some girl but asked us to wait so he could still catch a ride. Rocco eventually joined us and we all sat together discussing song ideas and our upcoming rehearsals. It felt like hours later when Henley finally joined us looking quite satisfied with himself and we were able to get out of there.
When I finally made it to bed, I was exhausted, but I spent most of the night tossing and turning. Thoughts of Sailor, about the position the band is in because of me, about memories I can’t shake no matter how hard I try wouldn’t quiet. When I finally managed to succumb to sleep, I had an unsettling dream that woke me back up. I was running in a forest. Someone was calling me, begging for me to help them, save them. No matter how fast I ran, how hard I searched, I would get a glimpse of them and they would disappear again. I ran for what seemed like hours – branches scraping my exposed skin, my feet protesting from running for so long, my chest tight from exertion. Finally, I thought I found her. I could see her long hair, the curves of her body, her white skin standing out like the moon in a black sky. I’d reach for her, and she’d disappear like wisps of smoke in the wind. Eventually, I woke up sweating and panting and instead of falling back asleep I threw myself in the shower and tried to wash away the remnants of the dream clinging to my mind.
“Hi, guys, good morning,” Sailor says as she breezes into the room. She’s dressed in jeans that have a few holes in them, an off the shoulder top, and sandals. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun and she’s barely wearing any makeup as far as I can tell. She looks…amazing. She looks real. I have an impulse to reach out and touch her, to verify my inclination.
“Hi,” I tell her and the guys echo my greetings with ones of their own.
She smiles, but never really makes eye contact with anyone. She has a cup from a gourmet coffee shop in her hand and I find I want to know what’s in it – coffee or tea? I want to know everything about her. What the hell is happening to me?
Shaking myself from my thoughts wanting to punch myself in the face for them, not sure what’s come over me, I gesture toward her seat and microphone. “If it’s not already obvious, that’s you.”
She looks at me, no expression in her eyes, and nods. “I figured.” Out of her large bag she pulls a notebook and pencil, places the pencil between her teeth as she moves to her seat and gets settled. “Okay. I’m ready! Where are we starting?”
Rocco smiles at her enthusiasm. “I think we should run through some of our old music first. Hopefully you’re familiar with them. We’ve added a harmony for you to the songs ‘Nothing but You’, ‘Smoke and Rain’, and ‘Just Breathe’.”
“I know all of them,” she says matter-of-factly surprising me.
“All of them?” I ask curiously.
“Yep,” she says nodding her head, not looking at me.
“Are you comfortable taking it from the top?” Rocco asks.
“Absolutely. Let’s start with ‘Smoke and Rain’.”
We all nod, “Sounds good,” Rocco says.
“For now, just look at this as a jam session. We aren’t recording anything and we asked for privacy, so it’s just us,” I say referencing to the empty soundboard room. “Let’s run through all the old songs, make some adjustments if we need to before we break for lunch. After, we can run through some new stuff. We have more rehearsals this week before we record anything. Alright?” I say hoping to relieve any fears or nerves she may have, but as she looks at me, she appears calm and comfortable.
“Okay,” she says and gives me a small smile before turning to her music stand and organizing her sheet music, places her notebook and pencil on the stand and positioning herself in front of the microphone. “I’m ready,” she says and at that, I start strumming the intro.
For this song, Henley is at keyboard and Rocco the drums like always. I begin singing the first verse and at the chorus everyone else joins. Sailor takes the second verse now where as before it was just me again. We’ve changed the wording around where needed so Sailor doesn’t sound like she’s singing about a woman and instead it’s like we are each singing about the other. It goes off without a hitch, it’s perfect, she’s perfect.
“That was fucking amazing,” Henley says sincerely.
“The song has never sounded better,” Nixon adds.
“You guys are being way too nice. Should I be worried?” Sailor asks.
“Seriously, though,” I begin, “what music theory or instrumental experience do you have? Were you in choir at some point? Band maybe?”
“Choir all through high school, mandatory band class in junior high. Why?”
