Chapter 36: The Sound of Fate
JEREMY
I kick my toe against the leg of my barstool and watch my Coke slowly going flat while I wait for Matt's shift to end.
"Look, I think Elena's just trying to do what your parents would want." Matt comes out of the supply room, picking up the conversation right where we left off, like we always do when he's at work.
"It's bullshit," I protest. "When she was my age, she decided to give herself up to Klaus but she doesn't even care what I think about Silas." I shove a frustrated hand through my hair.
Matt glances pointedly down the bar and I suddenly realize there's not enough of a crowd left to cover our conversation. It's just us and a girl who looks so young he carded her earlier, though they both kind of laughed after that when she didn't order alcohol. She's the type of pretty that makes me too aware of her sitting only three stools down. I've been avoiding looking over, not wanting her to feel like I'm checking her out or whatever.
I lower my voice and lean closer. "They're being dumb. There's no reason not to use Silas to do some good. If I was the only one who got near him, it'd be perfectly safe."
Matt looks troubled. "I don't know, Jer. Silas is the reason that Bonnie…" He glances down, rearranging the glasses behind the bar, and I feel like a huge jerk.
"Don't you think I know that?" I hiss. "But don't you think she'd want her death to mean something?"
"It does." Matt looks me squarely in the eye, but it still takes me a minute to realize he's talking about me.
I raise my eyebrows at him, propping my forearms against the bar. "For what, Matt? So I could go to Trig and try not to sleep through homeroom?"
"So you could live," he says in a low voice. "That's all." He shrugs, his chin tipping up like it does when he gets stubborn. "For what it's worth, I think your sister's right. It's too dangerous, and it's not worth it. You said that scientist guy was on the case anyway. Why not let him figure out how to do it without Silas?"
Matt glances at the clock and it's two minutes to closing.
I take a gulp of my watered-down soda, half-melted ice cubes clinking against the glass. "I guess."
He looks back at me, a half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "You know who you sound like?"
I narrow my eyes. "No. Who?"
"Katherine," Matt says, looking amused. "She was in here yesterday whining about how there was nothing to do in Mystic Falls and she was going to have to start painting picket fences just to keep from going out of her mind with boredom."
She said the same thing a week ago when we went to Whitmore, so I'm not surprised, but she's about the last person on earth I'd like to be compared to.
I lean across the counter and punch Matt in the arm. "Dick."
He swipes a cherry out of one of the garnish trays and flicks it at me. I duck, and my heart kicks up a little with pride because I know I wouldn't have been fast enough to do that last year. I pop back up and grab his wrist as he tries to back away from the counter. We scuffle over the bar, laughing, and then we bump my drink and almost spill it and the girl down the bar looks up for the first time, startled by the noise.
Matt lets me go, clearing his throat like he's embarrassed.
I smile sheepishly. "Sorry," I offer, and the girl just gives me a vague smile and an easy going shrug, her gaze somewhere left of my face, and then turns back to the drink she's been sipping on all night. Fortunately, the assistant manager packed it in a half an hour ago, so there's nobody left to get Matt in trouble for messing around at work.
"I'm gonna crush you at Call of Duty for that," Matt warns.
I snort. "Sure you are. If you can stay alive for a full five minutes."
"Hey, some of us have to work for a living and can't play all the time."
"Whatever. Don't blame your job for your poor hand-eye coordination." I nod to the clock. "Past closing."
"Yeah," Matt says, glancing at the girl at the other end of the bar. "Give me a minute to clear it out and then you can lock up while I finish, okay?"
"Why would I do your job for free? You don't even put out," I complain.
Matt snorts and snaps me with the bar towel. "You wanna be out of here before sunrise or what? Lazy ass."
He moves down the bar and pitches his voice back to customer service mellow.
"Hey," he says. "Not to rush you or anything, but we're closing up. Is there anything I can get you before you go?"
"Oh," the girl says, looking up with surprise. The light behind the bar catches the graceful sweep of her cheekbones and I shift on my stool, wondering why I haven't noticed her around Mystic Falls before. "Is it that late already?" Her eyes fall on the clock behind the bar and her lips curve into a rueful quirk of a smile. "And wow, yeah, the only bar in town and you close at midnight, not two. Of course you do."
"You need the only bar in town for a tonic and lime?" Matt teases with a lift of his eyebrows.
I pull out my phone so I won't look like I'm just sitting here listening, especially if Matt's thinking about making a move.
"If you're not ready to call it a night, there's a bar up the road a little called Sam's," he offers. "They stay open later, sometimes they have music, if that's the kind of thing you're looking for."
She glances around at the deserted restaurant with its piped-in Top 40's hits, and gives him an amused look up through her eyelashes.
"Actually, that's my usual spot, and I was looking to dance, but I wasn't feeling Sam's tonight. I've lived next to Mystic Falls my whole life and hardly ever been here and…" She clears her throat and glances away, re-crossing her legs. And even though I'm looking at my phone, my peripheral vision keeps drifting back to those tight jeans and combat boots. "I had a weird impulse to check it out tonight, I guess. But this wasn't exactly the kind of bar I was hoping for," she confesses dryly.
"Nope," Matt chuckles. "We're low on excitement around here. Sorry."
"No problem," she tells him, reaching for the messenger bag slouched on the floor next to her stool. "I'll just close out my tab and let you get home. Sorry, I didn't realize I was pushing closing time."
As she digs through her bag, I notice the well-worn set of drumsticks poking out of the top. I don't think there are any female drummers in the local bands, but if she's just learning I wonder if she knows a decent music teacher. I've been trolling Craigslist for guitar lessons but I can't find anybody teaching anything but piano here in town.
"You play?" I ask her, nodding to the drumsticks.
She glances over at me, pausing in her hunt for her wallet. "Yup, just came from band practice, actually."
"Are you with one of the local groups?" I ask, because I've been a little out of the scene lately and there might be one that I haven't heard about yet.
"We're out of Richmond. Band called Aperture," she says, and smiles.
I blink hard as I make the connection. "You're Cali Jameson?" My eyes flick over her skeptically, trying to match her up to what I remember from her album cover. She's tiny but curvy, and I guess if you take the blue streaks out of her dark hair and add a lot of eye makeup then... "Holy shit, you're Cali Jameson."
My mouth falls open a little and I snap it back closed, flushing, and cough into my fist to cover. Matt grins.
"I've been waiting two years for your second album. Your website said you were working on it, but it's said that since like six months after the first one," I say, dropping my phone on the bar. "I thought maybe you guys broke up."
Matt's eyes flick between us as he takes her empty glass and pulls a towel off his shoulder to make a swipe at the ring of moisture it left on the bar. Without interrupting, he heads for the cash register to ring up her bill.
"Nope," she says, looking pleased and a little self-conscious. "It's been a while since we did a show down here, but we play gigs in Richmond whenever I can get away. Life got a little...complicated," she says, glancing down at her bag. "It's been hard for me to drive up there often enough for practice, much less studio time." She offers a guilty smile. "Sorry about the album."
"No, no, I get it," I assure her. "Stuff comes up. But that first album was incredible. Guess I'll have to make it up to Richmond for a show."
She smiles at that, and I feel a rush of warmth in my chest and straighten up a little, trying to think of something else to say.
"Do you play?" she asks, pulling out an overstuffed canvas wallet and unzipping it.
"I'm trying to learn guitar," I tell her. "My sister's boyfriend has been teaching me, but he doesn't always have time and a lot of stuff has come up lately so it's kind of slow going." I smile awkwardly, wishing I didn't sound like every other high school kid who thinks he's a guitarist because he can pick out the refrain of Stairway to Heaven. "I've been messing around on the piano too, not really playing songs but just...whatever sounds good, you know?"
She drops a credit card onto the bar without looking at it, her pale blue eyes warming as she listens to me. "That's how it starts. I wrote my first song just playing around. I had the tune and then I realized there was a line of lyrics playing over and over through my head. Once I wrote it down, I knew what came next and then I tinkered with a couple words to match the number of syllables I needed and..." She grins and I notice for the first time that her lip is pierced with a slender silver ring. "I was hooked. Hard. Like crack cocaine hard."
"That's how I felt the first time I heard Tool through a decent set of headphones," I tell her and she laughs. Wait, shit, did I just compare her writing actual songs to me listening to headphones? "Though that doesn't really take any talent or anything…" I fumble.
"No, but I know exactly what you mean," she says, leaning forward. "It's the sound, and when you know you got it right it's just...like nothing else out there. It doesn't matter if you're playing it, or hearing it performed, or you finally get the bass setting just right on your subwoofer, it's pure magic."
I can't help but smile. Bonnie used to tease me about the look I got on my face when I would listen to music right before I went to sleep. I just laughed and gave her some shit right back because it was the same look she got when she was doing a spell. Her voice would drop a little and her eyes would slip closed and whatever language she was speaking, it sounded beautiful. No matter how dire the spell was, I could always tell she loved the magic. That she was born for it.
It shouldn't have been able to kill her, not something she loved that much. That's not right.
I blink down at the bar and realize Cali just said something.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I asked if you've been working with a piano or a keyboard," she repeats.
Matt comes back with the bill and picks up her card. He gives her a polite smile, but his eyes are already straying to the full trash and the glasses that need to be taken back to the kitchen.
"It's a nice one," I tell her, not sure if I should tell her how nice because that might sound like bragging and it's not like I paid for the piano or anything. "It's not mine, it's just at the house where I live."
"Don't tease," she says, quirking her eyebrows and giving me a playfully suspicious look. "Not a keyboard then…"
"It's a Fazioli," I tell her reluctantly.
She slaps her palm down on the bar. "No. No fucking way. I would skin my own dog to play a Fazioli and you're messing around on one?"
"Whoa," Matt says, smiling a little as he slides the receipt and her card back in front of her. "Harsh."
She waves a hand at him and rolls her eyes playfully. "Don't call PETA, okay? I don't really have a dog."
"Well, that's a relief," I say.
She laughs, turning away to sign her credit card slip. Matt and I swap a look over her head.
"You're welcome to play our piano anytime," I tell her. "We don't have a dog either, so I think it'll be safe."
She stops halfway through her last name and gives me an exaggerated look of pain, her lips tugging down a little. "Don't even tempt me that way." She finishes her signature with a hard flourish. "I would love to, but I don't really get out much." She shoves a hand through the punky, jagged layers of her shoulder length hair, her eyes losing a little of their excitement. "Busy, you know. My only free time is after band practice twice a week and that's pretty late at night." She gives a nod to the clock and an apologetic look at Matt, as she slides off the barstool.
The smooth skin of her back peeks out from above her low rider jeans as she scoops up her messenger bag and an army jacket that she shrugs on over arms corded with sleek muscle. I have got to get up to Richmond to see her play live. I had no idea Aperture was still doing shows and I love bass players but chicks that rock the drums…I swallow hard.
She sweeps her hair up out of her collar and ducks her head to look for her keys, the passion that animated her face a moment ago starting to slip away. I remember the vaguely melancholy way she stared into her drink while Matt and I were talking earlier, and feel a little sinking in my stomach. She really looked happy about that piano.
"Well, if you want, we're headed there right now," I offer, scratching the back of my neck. "You could come."
Her eyes widen and I swallow again, not sure if I misread her and just came on way too strong. Does she think I'm going for a hook up or something? How can I say I'm not without sounding like I'm lying?
"We were just going to play Xbox," Matt says. "So the piano would be all yours for as long as you want, right Jer?"
"I'd kinda rather listen," I say before I think it through. "I mean, if you don't want an audience, that's cool too, no pressure or anything. But I've seen what you can do with a set of drums, I'd love to hear what you're like with a piano," I tell her, smiling shyly.
She smiles back, toying with an overloaded keychain as she looks up at me, and now I just can't help myself.
"There was that one intro you guys did on...I forget the song name but it was track three, and it went all slow with a little violin and just acoustic guitar and then the bass and drums came in and it came out sounding like Bach, only badass and I um..." Shit. I am babbling. "I liked it," I finish lamely.
I hear Matt snort out a soft breath, trying not to laugh, and I shoot him a quick, narrow warning glance.
But Cali's grinning hugely now, her eyes sparkling. "I'm glad. I've taken piano lessons since I was six and violin since I was eight, so yeah, I didn't exactly shake my love of the classics when I discovered punk rock. That's actually me playing the violin on that track," she says, hitching her messenger bag higher on her shoulder. "We have to use the recorded loop when we perform it live, but we couldn't find a violinist on short notice that I liked, so it's just all me." She laughs self-consciously and then there's a pause.
"Nice," Matt says. "I'd like to hear your band sometime." He turns back to the bar, tossing out the old garnishes and gathering dishes.
"It's late, for the piano." Cali looks torn. "Don't you guys have roommates?"
"Kinda. I live with my sister and her boyfriend and..." I hesitate, trying to decide if I should say Stefan is my sister's ex or her boyfriend's brother, and I'm not sure how to explain Ric, so I settle for, "A couple roommates. Anyway, they all stay up pretty late."
"A whole family of vampires huh?" she says and my heart slams hard against my ribs. Did I slip? What did I say?
Matt clears his throat, noticing my panic, and smiles wryly at Cali. "They're just rich, no jobs to get up early for."
She's joking. I try not to gulp my next breath. She was just making a joke. I almost really screwed that one up. It only seems to get harder lately to remember not everybody knows there's more to the world than just humans.
"Look," Cali says, crossing her arms with one hip cocked, "I don't want to be the creepy girl who follows you home from the bar, but I was absolutely not exaggerating. I've wanted to play a Fazioli since I was a little girl but they didn't even have one at the college I went to and it would just..." She sighs. "It's been a weird week and it would be about the greatest thing that could happen to me right now, you know? So if you weren't serious, that's totally fine, but if you were, I'm in."
"Cool," I say, and clamp my mouth closed into a grin before I screw it up.
Is there any way to ask for an autograph without sounding like an ass? I should try and ask Matt when I get him alone for a second. It seems like he got over his trying-too-hard thing back when he was dating my sister and he's been really chill with women ever since. Even with Nadia, apparently, which still blows my mind.
"If you guys give me about forty more minutes to mop, close out the till and lock up, I can meet you over there," Matt offers.
"Sure." Cali smiles at him before her eyes come back to me and she tips her head toward the front door.
I slide my phone off the bar and pick up my sweatshirt, following her outside into the parking lot. As I shrug into my hoodie I duck my head for a quick pit check, just in case. Not that this is a date, but still.
There's a cool breeze outside, the fall air tasting almost frosty this late at night and the street in front of the Grill is quiet. I open my mouth to offer her a ride, and then spot the Volkswagen Thing that's parked alone across the empty lot from my Audi and Matt's truck. Won't it be kind of weird to bring all three cars to my house? But she probably won't want to get in a different car with a guy she just met and if I ride with her, she'll have to bring me back here before she goes home and it's already pretty late.
"So no bullshit," she says sternly as we walk. "How many girls have you picked up with that Fazioli?"
My gut twists guiltily because shit, she obviously does think I'm feeding her a line, but then I catch the sly, sideways look she's sneaking through her lashes at me and my skin warms.
"Oh loads," I tease blandly. "You should see what I can do when I pull out the Les Paul though."
She stops walking.
"Shut up," she says, her eyes wide. "You are not learning to play guitar on a Gibson Les Paul."
"Nope," I admit mischievously.
She drops her head back and groans. "Christ, I'm gullible."
"I don't even want to see what kind of an animal you'd kill to get to a Gibson," I say.
"A saber-toothed water buffalo, at least," she jokes.
"A venomous hyena-squid," I improvise.
Her lip ring flashes in the parking lot lights as she smiles and I wonder what it would feel like if I kissed her.
"Pterodactyl porcupine," she proposes, but something about that smile made my brain grind to a full stop.
Holy shit, I am standing in a parking lot with Cali Jameson and she is hot. I've only seen one picture of her ever, on her first album cover. I cannot believe she's coming over to my actual house and I get to hear her play. I don't know if I should read anything into her taking my invitation, but she is being a little flirty. At least, I think she's flirting. But does that mean she's interested or is she just being nice because of the piano?
She's smiling up at me expectantly, her eyes crinkled really cutely at the corners and suddenly I remember I'm supposed to make up a kind of animal.
"Manbearpig," I blurt out.
"Cheater!" she exclaims, slapping her hand flat against my chest and giving me a little shove. "That's a real animal!"
"Hate to break it to you, but it's not real just because it was on South Park," I say, fighting back my smile.
She widens her eyes, looking crestfallen. "Does that mean the Jewpacabra isn't real?"
"Now, I didn't say that," I backpedal, holding up my hands, and she cracks up laughing, stumbling a little because it shakes her whole tiny body and she doesn't even seem to care. "I'm Jeremy, by the way," I tell her, totally incapable of wiping the smile off my face.
She rolls her eyes, still laughing, and spreads her arms theatrically. "Ladies and gentlemen, the girl who didn't ask the name of anything but the piano before she agreed to go home with a total stranger. Heaven help me if I ever meet an axe murderer with a Bosendorfer."
"Or a guy with a wood chipper and a set of Tama Starclassics."
She stops laughing and a look of intense longing crosses her face. "Don't even say Tama in the same county as me, or you'll have my MasterCard running for its gimpy little life."
"What do you have?" I ask, forgetting about the whole car thing.
She sucks in a breath and peeks up at me through her eyelashes, looking almost hopeful. "You really want to know?"
I give her a pointed look and she grins.
"My main set is maple, but I've started adding in birch toms for a little more kick in the midrange, and I bought an orphaned snare off Craigslist the other day that yeah okay, it sounds like not a big deal but this thing is making my entire life. It's changing my whole sound profile and it's making my bassist nuts but I think it's exactly what we need to spice up this new song we've been working on that's just going nowhere."
I shake my head, crossing my arms disapprovingly. "You're mixing woods? I had so much more respect for you than that."
"What!" she squeaks, rocking into her toes like she might be winding up for a punch. "Don't even start that purist crap with me. I will drag you to Richmond right now and if you can tell me you'd get the same kind of deep-throated feel-it-in-your-teeth resonance with a matched set of Yamahas, well then–" She stops and shakes her head resolutely. "No. No, I'd just kill you. It's the only humane thing to do."
"Easy there." I chuckle. "First the dog and then me. I better tell Matt to watch his back."
"As long as he doesn't suggest I switch from maple to oak, I think we'll get along just fine."
I whistle through my teeth and look guilty. "In that case…"
Her brows snap together. "No. Seriously?"
I can't stand it anymore and I burst out laughing. She snorts and smacks my arm, shaking her head as she digs in her purse. "Jerk. That was so not funny. Want me to drive?"
"Sure," I tell her easily, and let her lead the way to the Volkswagen. I was actually looking forward to kicking back and hanging with Matt tonight, but this? One hundred percent better.