12. Brian
My grip tightens at the ends of the drumsticks. Closing my eyes, I thump out the notes on the drums, crashing the cymbals and hi-hats at intervals. The music pulses through my veins, enveloping me with satisfaction.
My arms flail wildly, my feet stomp in line. No matter how many times I drum, it still feels refreshing and relaxing, providing an escape from my lonely reality.
A sensual feeling runs down my spine, a familiar thrill. It’s the same way I feel when I’m next to Jessica. I clench my jaws and bang the drums even harder now.
How did she manage to sneak into my thoughts?
She thinks our music is rambunctious. Can anyone be more selfish, so out of touch? Only caring about her peace. And to think that she has such a darling daughter.
I raise my arms in the air, getting ready to drop the very last beat that hits home until—
“Mr. Shepherd?” a husky male voice calls from outside.
The drumsticks fling out of my hands, and I growl under my breath. Hitting that final crescendo won’t be the same anymore. I drop my hands and sigh. Whoever it is, he’s insistent on seeing me. I can see his feet cemented in place under the garage door.
“Mr. Shepherd, it’s the police. We’re only here to talk, okay?”
Police?What would the police be doing in front of my home? I open the garage fully, greeted by a pot-bellied man with sandy-brown hair and a whimsical smile. Behind him is a short woman with a serious expression.
“How may I help you?” I ask.
The man speaks up first. “Hello, Mr. Shepherd. I’m Officer Daniel, and that’s my partner, Officer Mikaela.”
“So?”
“We got an anonymous tip that there might’ve been loud music coming from your home.”
My eyes dart toward Jessica’s home. Anonymous tip? Yeah, right.
“Mr. Shepherd?” the cop calls again.
“Pardon me, you lost me there for a second.”
“Mr. Shepherd, we have reason to believe that you have been drumming above the decibel limit of the area and disturbing the neighborhood.”
“The neighborhood or the neighbor?”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t disclose who made the report. We’ll need you to comply with the decibel limit and reduce the noise—”
“You mean music?”
He frowns. “Yes, the music.”
I catch movement from the corner of my eye, my attention shifting briefly to Jessica’s house again. I can see her curtain parted slightly behind her window, and when I pay more attention, I can make out a figure standing behind it.
Did I take it too far this time? She did say she was trying to work. A sudden pang of guilt creeps within me. Maybe it’s not entirely her fault that she called the cops. My band might be annoying to her, but music is our livelihood. I need to figure this out…and fast.
“Mr. Shepherd?”
I turn to the officers, my gaze softening. “Did she make the call?” I ask, pointing to Jessica’s house.
“Did who now?”
“My neighbor, Jessica,” I begin. “Is she the one that called you?”
“Like I said, Mr. Shepherd, we can’t divulge that information. This is a simple matter, really. What matters is that you keep the noise down. I recommend you pad your walls or something.”
Sensing my unwillingness to engage with him, he continues.
“This is a residential area, and as such, you cannot constitute such nuisances—”
“That’s rude.”
The other officer steps forward. I glance in her direction, but quickly pivot my eyes back to the man.
“My apologies. You do get the point, right?”
He offers a weak smile and takes a step backward. I square my shoulders, more out of habit than intent. There’s no need for them to stay here. They don’t have cause to take me to the station, and there’s no need for this conversation to go on any longer than it already has.
“It’s a beautiful town, Mr. Shepherd. I wouldn’t wanna ruin your stay here.”
That sounds like a threat. He maintains the annoying smile on his face, one that I could wipe off with a clean smack. Only, I’m not that guy anymore. He’s not some degenerate drunk at a bar, he’s a cop.
Nodding, I say, “Have a good day, officers.”
My eyes flicker to Jessica’s window once more. The curtain is back in place, and there are no signs of anyone spying from anywhere else. What if I imagined her standing by the window? I shake my head, the confrontation from earlier coming to the forefront. She’s clearly retaliating, making it more difficult to deal with her.
Is she being narrow-minded, or am I?I don’t know. These lines are beginning to blur.
I already have a lot to balance—unpacking, rehearsal location change, the upcoming gig at North’s, and Sonya. I don’t have room to add aggressive neighbors to the mix.
If my music offends her to the point where she feels the need to take legal action, I won’t argue with her anymore. It”s not worth the trouble.
I grab my phone and dial Greg’s number. It’s getting late. He probably won’t pick up, but I Iet it ring anyway.
“Hey, man,” he breathes into the receiver.
“Asleep?”
“Not anymore. What’s up?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“What are you, three?”
I chuckle under my breath. It is a silly thing to say, a grown man calling another because he can’t sleep.
“Wanted to see if you had any idea how much it’ll cost to pad the garage?”
“Pad it?”
“Yeah, like the studio we used back in New York. Something that’ll muffle the sound so it’s not so loud outside.”
“You know you could’ve called about this in the morning, right? And there’s this thing called Google.”
I hear shuffling on the other end, followed by Audrey’s voice. Greg grunts and then mutters my name.
“I’m sorry. Is she mad?”
“Not at me as much as she’s mad at you. Wait until she sees you again.”
We both laugh. Audrey and I have been good friends for a long time. Sometimes, she accuses me of calling her husband more times in a day than a man should.
“But seriously, Brian. You called because of some sound muffling in the garage?”
“Right, that.”
Greg chuckles. “Does this have anything to do with that neighbor of yours?”
“No,” I hesitate. “Alright, yes. The cops just left my place. They said that I need to turn it down a notch.”
“Man, now you have to. We can’t have any funny business with the police before we get a chance to play for this town.”
“I know. Why do you think I called?”
“Look, bud. Aside from the cops, I know how much drumming means to you. I’ll see how we can get some noise barriers tomorrow. If we can’t find anything, we’ll stick with finding a studio. For tonight, just don’t do anything crazy, alright?”
“I’m an adult, Greg, not a toddler. I can’t afford to do something crazy. Plus, it’s not like that.”
“If you say so. Gotta get back to the wife. Talk to you tomorrow.”
”Goodnight.” I pick the sticks up from the floor and head to my bedroom. Looks like I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.