10. Brian
Everyone looks at me like I’ve just been convicted, even Greg. I scan their faces, a hint of amusement flickering across my own.
“What’s up with the looks?” I chuckle. “I only said we should run it from the top…again.”
Georgie walks away from the mic, mumbling as she paces the corner. We’re cooped up in my garage having the most productive rehearsal we’ve had in a long time.
“That’s four times now, Brian. Sheesh. Think we can catch a little break?” Sabrina says.
“Yeah, yeah. Alright.”
Relief washes over everyone, and a smirk tugs at the corners of my lips.
“Right after we all take it from the top this one last time,” I announce, clapping my hands.
The groans that follow are in perfect harmony. I perform a roll on the toms, ending with a dramatic pause. Phil is already on his feet with his arms across his chest.
“You meant that as a joke, right?” Phil asks.
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe not.”
“Gotta be.”
Greg looks around the room before his gaze settles on the fridge, inviting him to stroll toward it. Meanwhile, Phil and Sabrina discuss their ideas for a bridge. I remain seated at the drums, sporting an optimistic facial expression.
Greg opens the fridge and scratches his head. “Dude, where’s all the beer?”
“No beer today, remember,” I answer. “Our deal was no drinking leading up to a performance.”
Phil bellows, “No way you’re breaking that deal, Greg! Not after you puked all over Brian’s shoes a couple of months back. I don’t wanna be next!”
The garage erupts with laughter.
“Heeeey! It was the bad burrito, guys, and you know that! Come on,” Greg objects.
Georgie walks over to the fridge to grab a soda, patting Greg on the back. Greg gets ready to speak up again, but movement outside catches his attention.
“I think you have a guest,” Greg says, pointing.
I follow his eyes. Walking toward the garage with a scowl on her face and fists balled by her sides, is Jessica.
“Girlfriend?” Phil pries.
“Nah, neighbor,” I reply.
“No one says they’re mutually exclusive,” Phil teases.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s hot enough. I bet she could still be both.”
My brain can’t formulate a comeback quick enough. Jessica’s already too close to the garage. I step out in hopes of preventing her from coming inside. Meeting her in her path forces her to take a few steps back, away from earshot of the crew. Phew!
“Jessica?”
“Nice of you to remember my name, Brian.”
Her words are as stiff as her posture. She stands with her arms folded over her chest. Phil’s right. She is hot. I can’t deny it.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Really? You have no idea?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you just come off your high horse, Brian?”
“Is this a quiz, or are you gonna say why you’re on my property?”
“I want the same thing I’ve always wanted. Stop being a nuisance. It’s as simple as that.”
“Nuisance? You think our music is a nuisance?”
“When it’s blasting through my walls in the evening, yes,” she retorts.
“Uh-huh. Well, you seem to be the only one disturbed by it. As a matter of fact, I’ve been getting fan mail all week. I think the rest of the neighborhood is just fine with us.”
“The rest of the neighborhood doesn’t have to get work done in a time crunch.”
“The rest of the neighborhood doesn’t care only about themselves.”
She backs off. I raise my chin. If she’s going to belittle my art, I’ll stand my ground. “Are you done nagging? It”s tough to listen t—,”
“You’re one to talk with your incessant commotion and poor taste in music,” she scoffs, leaning forward as her arms remain folded and her weight shifts to one leg. “You must be on such good terms with critics.”
“You’re a critic now?”
“Even better. I can just tell you the truth as it is. Your music sounds like a bunch of cookware tumbling around in the washer. If you want any chance of reaching a wider audience, then stop making it sound like chaos.”
Ignoring her, I turn around and march back to the garage, my jaws clenched in frustration.
“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done talking.”
I shrug her off. The guys stare at me with grins on their faces. They hear everything.
“Brian, you—”
“Don’t bother, Phil,” I say dryly.
I rush over to a drawer in the corner and pull it open. I feel her eyes scrutinizing me impatiently as I search the drawer’s contents. I retrieve a stack of old music CDs.
Greg chuckles. “What do you need those for?”
I walk past him to confront Jessica, and before she can process her confusion, I shove the CDs into her hands.
Gripping the bundle, she begins to analyze. “What in the world is this?”
“Music,” I say. “If after listening to those you still feel like my…our music is noisy and a nuisance, then it’s clear.”
“What’s clear?”
“You got no soul, and you sure don’t know how to have a good time.”
“I’m not listening to your music—”
“Goodnight, Jessica.”
I return to the garage. The crew, previously relaxed and enjoying the show, now wear expressions of profound seriousness.
“I’ve seen you do a lot of things,” Greg states. “But that out there probably tops the charts.”
I sigh. “Please, don’t. I had to do it, okay?”
“Right. Maybe we should get back to our rehearsals now to lighten the mood,” Phil suggests.
“Yeah, I dunno, Brian. That was pretty stone cold,” Sabrina emphasizes. “I mean, she left the CDs on the ground.”
I dash outside to find the CDs I gave her scattered in the driveway. She’s nowhere in sight. I crouch down to pick them up. I’d be shocked if she took them with her anyway. I look at her house for a while, grinding my teeth as I battle my thoughts.
“You know I’m always gonna keep it real with you, right?”
I look up to find Greg with his hands in his pockets. “Could we do this some other time, Greg?”
“Not this time, bud. If your neighbor is complaining about us, then we can move rehearsals somewhere else. It’s no biggie.”
“We will not be doing that.”
“And your neighbor?”
“She’ll be fine.”
“Look, I don’t care about the personal vendetta you have with her. I already proposed it to the band, and they agree to halt practice until we find another spot.”
“What? We don’t have the time to hunt for another location. We have a gig around the corner.”
“Yeah, which means you and I gotta make sure we find a place by tomorrow, because unlike you, the rest of us aren’t comfortable disturbing the neighbors. It’s bad for PR.”
I nod, walking toward the living room where light banter seeps into the hallway from the garage.
“I could tell you guys weren’t into practicing today anyway.”
“It was a long solo, Brian. And we’ve practiced the song plenty of times already. We just needed a break.”
“I guess you guys got what you wished for,” I grunt. “Fine, we’ll go look tomorrow.”
“Yeah, we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry, man.”
A quirky grin forms on Greg’s face. I recognize that naughty look. Whatever is racing through his mind, I’m not in the mood to hear it.
“There’s gotta be a studio around here, right?” I ask. “You know more about this place than I do.”
His phone chimes before he can divulge his foolishness. He picks it up and stares at the screen for a moment.
“Well, that’s my cue. Gotta get back home to the wife.”
“You’re a lucky man,” I say.
He nods in the direction of Jessica’s house. “I could say the same. She’s gorgeous.”
Scowling, I say, “Will you cut it out, already?”
The others join us in the living room. I feel my chest tightening. Jessica’s rant burdens us with needless tasks. If she just stayed home, we would have finished our final track, and these extra steps wouldn’t have been necessary.
“So, what time do you wanna meet up tomorrow?” Greg asks.
“Around noon. I gotta run an errand and unpack a few things.”
“It’s just one person’s stuff. At this rate, you might be unpacking for the rest of your life.”
I chuckle. “That’ll be some adventure, huh? Might even make it easier with less pressure.”
I take a minute to appreciate my crew. We shake hands and pat shoulders while making jokes and taking a stroll down memory lane before they call it a night. It’s exactly what I needed.
The house is soon unbearably quiet with all of them gone, mirroring the silence in my head. There’s no way I’m dealing with this tonight. I shake my head before making a beeline back to my garage and picking up the drumsticks where I left them.
She’ll get used to it. She has to.