[him]
When you're in a band playing in a new location, the most crucial moment is the final note of the last song to the split second before the audience decides your fate through applause or jeers. It's the difference between you being labeled as a cheap high school group or a certified band of musicians. It's the difference between being a bunch of guys with a guitar or being something. And you better believe it makes for a heart pounding set.
Not that I'm exactly stressed or anything when we play The Basement's open mike night on Friday. Lost And Found is a machine. You've got my partner in crime Jonas on the guitars, who plays the instrument like it's going out of style. Grant sings lead and also plays the guitar, he's more into the rock and roll lifestyle than any of us. We got Mick Morrison to play the bass. She might be a girl, but to be honest, she plays harder than any of us do. With me on the drums, we can't be stopped.
There's no reason to be nervous tonight, I keep telling myself as I thrash out on my beloved drum set. We're playing good, and the crowd seems hooked. Sure, Mick and Jonas look a little nervous, but they're playing like we're practicing at home. Grant's got all the ladies eyes on him, which distracts him from his singing, but it's a solid effort. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?
Wrong.
Because somewhere between the last chord and the audience's reaction, I catch a glimpse of her.
Tina Walters.
Like all movie villains, I feel like there should be some sort of foreboding music or a thunderclap when I see my ex-girlfriend. Girlfriend of ten months. Ex-girlfriend of two weeks, but feels like two hours.
And it's like, shit, of all the music dives she had to walk into, it had to be this one. Fact: she hates my band's music. Hell, she doesn't even like music that much in general, save for whatever Katy Perry is out at the moment. To make matters worse, she's all over some pretty boy she probably picked up from the Young Business Leaders of America at her posh private school.
It's just insulting.
But here's the thing about Tina Walters: she's cute. Petite, yet curvy in all the right places. Eyes so big and round that she constantly looks like a surprised anime character. Hair I used to run my fingers through.
When you're as cute as she is, you can get away with almost anything. If you ask any of my friends, she treated me like utter shit for ten months while II was too whipped to notice. So, I let her get away with trash talking my band. And calling my overall taste in music "too obscure and weird". And letting her cheat on me that one time when I went to a music festival without her.
But fuck if I'm going to let her bring her Young Business Leaders of America boyfriend and her cute anime eyes to this club and ruin my night. It's just not happening.
Mick catches me staring stupidly at Tina. She rolls her eyes. "I thought there was a strict no animal policy here," she grumbles. Mick never liked Tina, none of my friends did.
"Help us get this crap down," Jonas yells out at us over the chatter of the audience.
This time, I'm too distracted by Tina. She sees me, that's for sure. The knowing spark in her eyes is there, like when she gets a piece of good gossip and must share it with me. I don't even go to the Gallagher Academy (Blackthorne High School does the job), but I probably could tell you about the sordid sex lives of the A-list there. Anna Fetterman? You vixen, you.
Now, she's waiting for me. You don't have to be a psychic to see what's going to happen next: the inevitable break up gloating. She's gonna waltz up to me with that familiar toothy grin of hers and shove her new clean cut, polo wearing boyfriend in my face, all while asking me if I was "really, truly okay with this"—
"Zach?" Shit. She's right in front of me, holding on to the peppy douche-off like she can't stand properly on her own. She looks nice yet disheveled, the way she liked to look when we hit up underground scenes. I'm almost falling in love with her again (not that I stopped, I don't think) until I realize she's wearing my shirt. My favorite shirt that says, "LIVE UNTIL YOU DIE", faded from the wash. In a lapse of judgment, I let her wear it. I didn't think I'd let her keep it.
She makes things so much harder than it needs to be.
Stepping off the tiny stage, I put my drum kit suitcase down and try to look nonchalant. "Hey, Tina," I force myself to say. I refuse to look at the guy who's all over her.
She sucks her teeth, a compulsive habit of hers. "You played really well tonight."
"Thanks." You''re playing yourself pretty well tonight if you think I'm letting you get to me.
My cool tone doesn't faze her. So, she pulls out plan b: boyfriend. "So, this is Josh," she says warmly, as she beams to the guy next to her. He's such a sap, I could sense it from miles away. "Josh, this is Zach. My ex-boyfriend." She says those last two words with such confidence in it's certainty, meanwhile I'm still mulling the words in my head.
"Hey," he greets dully. I just nod in reply.
Tina's looking a whole more smug now that she's introduced her secret weapon. Gloating is just necessary at this point, I can't blame her. "So," she practically purrs, boring her deep green eyes into mine, "are you here with someone tonight?" Every syllable is punctuated with a healthy dose of contempt and a serving of "suck it, Goode" on the side.
"Well, uh," I manage to cough out, "hey, I'll catch up with you later? I gotta help the band load the instruments." With that, I turn as quickly as I can away from her and head in the opposite direction. But it doesn't even matter if I frolicked away while breaking down in tears: she won the break up and she knows it. And people say musicians get all the girls.
Walters: 1, Goode: 0
I'm halfway across the club when an idea hits me. Why the hell should she get to win? Why the hell to I have to wallow in the breakup like a little baby? Fuck that. I'm single, aren't I? No more turning down ridiculously good looking girls because I had one who treated me like alcoholics treat their livers: terribly and taken for granted.
But then, that idea grows into something else. Tina asked if I was in a relationship, right? Well, I can move on just as quickly as she can. I only needed a girl for five minutes to shut her up. It's a matter of pride. The least I could do is mess with her head with a little bit.
It's just a matter of finding a girl.
My eyes dart around the club. There are tons of girls, but I needed a certain kind. I ignore the pretentious indie chicks, wannabe hippies, and any girl current making out with someone. I'm not a sloppy seconds sort of person.
It leaves me with four girls.
One of them is tall and gorgeous. Legs that go on for days and eyes so blue you could swim in them. She's making eyes at Grant, though, so I'm not going to go there. But, Grant's making eyes at the dark-skinned and dark-haired beauty next to her. He just has to take all the girls, doesn't he? The waifish blond looks like she could break at any moment, not exactly my cup of tea.
My eyes settle on the last girl. She's average looking at best, with a nondescript face and demeanor. There's nothing outlandishly special about her, except for one thing.
She doesn't look like she could break your heart.
So, I wait around for a little until I can get her alone and spring my proposal on her. "How would you like to help me screw with my ex-girlfriend's psyche?" doesn't have a ring to it, but it's getting there.
Four minutes in and I'm starting to get impatient. I mean really, Tina isn't going to stick around for ever, and if I was going to do this it needed to be now.
Thinking like that turned something off in my mind. Like the ability to make good decisions under pressure. Who cares what it was, all I knew was that I've wasted ten months already. I'm not going to waste any more.
The second the girl separates from her group, I decide to make my move. She doesn't want to be here, that's for sure. But I can't shake the feeling that either way, doing something this crazy will make this night one to remember.
I don't wait for a proper introduction. Just tap her on the shoulder and say, "Will you pretend to be my girlfriend for the next five minutes?" She's so shell shocked and I'd bet my left kidney nobody's ever said something like that to her.
But wait. From the corner of my eyes, I see Tina gazing at me from afar curiously. Challenging me. I can hear her doubt from here.
It leaves me no choice but to go in for the kill. Before the girl has any chance to answer, I kiss her with all the pent up emotion I've been stifling these past weeks. For once, I'm not thinking, just doing. And the look on Tina's face when she sees us sums it all up.
Walters: 1, Goode: 1
an: this AN is short. thanks for all the reviews, guys, they really mean a lot :)
tell me what you think, yeah?
-asha :D
