Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
On Wednesday, Allie found herself sitting beside Ryan as he confidently maneuvered the car he’d borrowed from Anisha onto the Williamsburg Bridge, bound for New Jersey.
Mindy and Ren had openly gawked at them as she climbed into the car, amazed that Allie had asked for a day off and very eager to tease her about taking off with “a boy.” She’d told them she was going to help Ryan pick up a chair he’d purchased from someone online.
It was warm in the car. The front seat gave them a forced proximity and intimacy that made Allie’s nervous system buzz like a fluorescent light bulb. The periodic smiling sideways glances that Ryan was giving her didn’t help. She forced herself to fill the heavy air with conversation.
“Been a while since I was in a car.” She tried to remember the last time and failed.
“You must know how to drive, though. Because of touring.” Ryan fiddled with the volume on the stereo, keeping his eyes on the road.
Allie looked out over the water and at the distant buildings of Manhattan. “I was the only one in our band with a license.”
“Seriously?” He glanced quickly sideways again and met her eyes. “You did all the driving? Did they, like, pay for your meals and worship you as a goddess?”
Allie laughed. “Not quite. Mimi and Ayla usually unloaded all our gear. And Jessi always sat on the passenger’s side and played DJ. It was before there was streaming music, and the van only had a cassette player, so managing the music was basically a full-time job.”
“Dang, most bands weren’t even releasing cassettes anymore at that point. You must have gotten tired of albums pretty fast if you were always working with the same collection.”
“Oh yeah, we did. Jessi had a tape player at home set up to dub music from her records, but still, we could only bring so many cassettes with us. There’s one Sleater-Kinney album I can literally not bear to ever listen to again.”
Ryan laughed and did a quick shoulder check as he merged with traffic at the end of the bridge.
“Eventually, we started asking people to make us mixtapes.” Allie was warming to her tour stories, the nostalgia slowly building within her. “We would ask everyone we met on tour to make them for us, audiences, promoters, even other bands we befriended.”
Ryan pressed the brake as they hit an unmoving section of traffic. He looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She looked back, wondering whether he was going to confess something scandalous, right in the middle of this benign conversation about cassettes. But he didn’t. He just shrugged gently and turned his attention back to the cars in front of them before he spoke again.
“And did people make them for you?” he asked as the car started to move again. “I mean, this was well beyond the era of cassette decks. Even for most dedicated music nerds.”
“That was the surprising thing. People did . There was kind of a cassette resurgence in the underground music scene at that time. I’m sure you remember.” She snuck a glance over at Ryan. “People who loved cassettes really loved them. It was considered cool, I guess. Whatever it was, it sure helped us out. We would usually get a few new cassettes each tour stop. Jessi was always excited to play weird new music for me while I drove.”
“I still can’t believe you did all the driving. It must have been exhausting.”
His obvious care for her made the back of her neck hot.
“I just got used to it, I guess. I liked touring. Oh, and don’t worry if you want me to take a turn driving today. I’m not, like, burned out for life or anything. I might be a little rusty, though.”
“Just as long as we don’t listen to Sleater-Kinney?” He looked over at her quickly and winked.
“Most of their catalog is fine. But if you put on All Hands on the Bad One , I’ll voluntarily fling myself from the vehicle.”
He laughed. “Well, I like driving, too, so you’re off the hook. Plus, this car is great. It handles so well. I’m lucky that Anisha lets me borrow it whenever.”
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Allie watched out the window as Manhattan’s crowded streets flowed by.
“Go for it. We have about an hour’s drive ahead of us. If I can’t answer your question, I’ll at least have time to make up an entertaining lie.”
“Oh, nothing that requires lying. It’s just, I realized after the Thanksgiving dinner that I have no idea what Anisha does for a living, and I feel like it’s way too late to ask her.”
Ryan chuckled. “Well, that’s an easy one. She doesn’t do anything for a living.”
“Is this the entertaining lie you were talking about?” Allie gently shoved his arm. She held her hand against the warm fabric of his shirt for a second longer than she needed to. “Because, really, it could be a lot more entertaining.”
Ryan laughed. “Nope. I’m serious. She doesn’t work.”
“She doesn’t work? And you are a podcast tech? And you live in the nicest apartment in Brooklyn? And she has the best clothes I’ve ever seen and also owns this completely nonjunky car?”
“I know. It sounds bizarre. And she doesn’t really like to talk about it, but Anisha is loaded.”
Allie leaned back against her seat and attempted to process this information. “What, did she, like, design an app or something? Did she win the Mega Millions?”
“Neither.” Ryan checked his mirrors and steered the car into the passing lane before glancing back at Allie. “Nothing that exciting. Her family owns a bunch of factories in India. They sent her here for school but didn’t think she’d want to stay. She did, and they freaked out a bit but ended up giving her a trust fund or something? I don’t know how it works. She’s technically estranged from them, but she has enough money in trust to just…live. And, of course, she hates telling anyone about it. I don’t think she’d mind you knowing, but I can guarantee it’s not something she’ll want to chat about.”
“Understood.” Allie exhaled, feeling a bit bowled over by the unfamiliar concept of having money just sitting there whenever you needed it. “But she’s always busy! She’s always coming home and changing clothes after a long day!”
Ryan nodded. “Volunteer work. She literally does it every day of the week. Harlem Green, Brooklyn Book Bodega, Big Sisters…I can’t even keep track. After she bought the apartment and the car, she basically put herself on an allowance, and she gives a bunch of money away each month and spends all her time volunteering. She’s the weirdest rich person I’ve ever met. Not that I’ve met many.”
“She owns your apartment?” Allie turned to him with wide eyes.
“Sure does. Lucky me, huh? Every once in a while, she suggests that I live there for free, but I’m not comfortable with that. My rent is cheap, though.”
“She really is an excellent platonic life partner,” Allie mused.
Ryan laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Allie leaned back in her seat. “Do you worry about what happens if one of you meets someone that you really like?”
He stared straight ahead and drummed his hands on the steering wheel. He was quiet for long enough that she thought he hadn’t heard her and was about to ask the question again when he cleared his throat and spoke.
“I don’t think that’s a real worry for either of us. Anisha dates around. She’s never really talked about wanting anything serious. And I don’t have much luck with long-term relationships. Ladies get tired of me pretty quick. I’ve never really been able to get someone to stick around.”
Allie found that hard to believe, but she didn’t want to pry, and he didn’t seem to want to elaborate.
As the landscape out the window shifted gradually from city to suburbs, Allie recognized the opening bars of the next song on Ryan’s playlist. “I Want You to Want Me.” She leaned forward and turned the volume up, knocking Ryan with her shoulder as she settled back into her seat.
“Ooh, what’s this? A front seat mosh pit?” Ryan nudged her with his elbow. Allie nudged him back and started singing along with the first verse. Ryan’s voice joined her, and they both sang louder and louder as the chorus kicked in, Allie bopping up and down in her seat and bumping into Ryan as much as she could without causing him to steer the car off the road. Ryan, for his part, kept one hand solidly on the wheel and made emphatic gestures with his other fist in the air. Whenever he could, he leaned toward her and knocked her back with his arm. Allie was giggling so much as the song drew toward its final chorus, she could hardly sing the words. The thing was, she maybe did want him to want her. And she was starting to think that maybe he wanted her to want him, too.
“Best front seat mosh pit I’ve ever been in,” Ryan said as the song ended. He was breathing heavily from the exertion of it all. He smoothed his hair back into place and ran his hand down over his beard. They were now completely surrounded by suburban homes, steering through quiet neighborhoods, so much closer to their destination.
It took less than an hour to get to the club. As she stepped out of the car, Allie realized she wasn’t even sure she was ready for what could happen when she went inside. She hadn’t spent any time in the car thinking about what she would do if Jessi was somewhere behind the heavy, rusted metal door under the rudimentary sign for the Top Drawer. It had seemed like a long shot, a weird adventure that was mostly about getting to spend an afternoon chatting and driving around with Ryan. But now it was real. Her heart was in her throat.
Ryan looked down at her, his brown eyes warm. “Are you ready?” She nodded, inhaling deeply through her nose as quietly as possible. He’d probably be disappointed if he knew she was considering running back to the car and diving into the back seat.
The Top Drawer was a name apparently chosen with an affection for irony, since the club was very much underground. When they pushed open the metal door, they were greeted by a stairwell that emitted a wave of odor.
“Oof.” Ryan waved his hand in front of his face. “That is a lot of urine.”
Allie laughed. “Feels kind of familiar. Though I don’t think we ever played here. I would have remembered a club in our home state.”
“Yeah, from what I read online, it seems like it opened just a few years ago.”
“Well, we definitely played a lot of places like this. Piss-stink essential oil must come in the starter kit for every punk club in the country.”
They followed arrows scrawled on the wall in thick black ink down two sets of staircases and found themselves faced with another door, with a more elaborate hand-painted sign letting them know they had arrived.
Ryan glanced at her quickly, and when she nodded, he pulled open the door.
It took a moment for their eyes to adjust in the darkness after the fluorescent lights of the stairwell. The club was small, just one room with a foot-high riser at one end and a short bar along the wall farthest from them. A table and chair and an open, empty lockbox sat by the door, ready for someone to take money from patrons in exchange for stamped wrists as they arrived for whatever show would be happening later.
“We’re closed. Come back at nine.” The words came from a skinny guy who was sitting on one of the barstools, eating a burrito and staring at his phone screen. His lank bottle-black hair hung in greasy chunks over his eyes, and his T-shirt, which was more holes than fabric, featured gothic lettering that read Cult Leader Death Pact. Allie had been out of the scene for so long she didn’t know whether it was a band or just a random statement.
“Hey, are you Alan?” Ryan’s voice prompted the guy to actually look up at them.
“Who are you?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question.” Ryan smiled. “It’s not polite.”
“Huh?” Alan did not seem ready for a match of wits.
“I’m Ryan Abernathy. I sent you an email asking if we could talk to Jessi. You said to come by the club?”
“Oh, okay.” Alan put his burrito down. He turned toward a door just beyond the bar and shouted, “Hey! Someone’s here to see you!”
As the door opened, Allie felt briefly lightheaded. What if all this time, all she’d needed to do was take a forty-five minute trip to New Jersey and descend a urine-soaked staircase? Ten years of wondering what had happened to Jessi, to have her walk out of a badly painted door in the middle of a tiny punk club half an hour from the high school where they’d first met. It was wild. This might be it.
Of course, it wasn’t.
Allie tried not to look mortified when a young white guy with a closely shaved head and friendly, alert eyes walked through the door and smiled at them. “Hey! You wanted to talk to me?”
“Jesse, this is Ryan.” Alan waved his hand from one guy to the other, ignoring Allie entirely. “He wanted to talk about bookings…or something.” Alan went back to his burrito. Jesse walked across the room toward Ryan and Allie. As Allie exhaled audibly, Ryan put a gentle hand on her shoulder. His touch fortified her. She resisted the urge to curl into him, seeking the soothing comfort of his body. Now they had to make nice with Jesse for at least a few minutes before they could bail.
“Hey, man, nice to meet you.” Jesse shook Ryan’s hand and nodded quickly at Allie. “What’s your band called?”
“Oh.” Ryan laughed, sounding more self-conscious than Allie had ever heard before. “I’m not in a band. We actually just came looking for someone who we thought might be you, but we were wrong. We’re sorry to waste your time.”
“Aw, really?” Jesse looked confused. The large X s tattooed on his hands gave him away as a straight edge—no booze, no drugs. He seemed like a fine person. She had no interest in him at all.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual. Jesse continued talking to Ryan as though Allie didn’t exist. “You just totally look like you’d have a band. You kind of look like that guy in Numbrain. Do you know that guy?”
“Naw, man.” Ryan shook his head. “I’m not in the scene at all.” He gestured to Allie. “But she used to be. It was actually her bandmate we were looking for. Jessi Jetski? Jessi with an i . You know, the Jetskis? They were on Ego Records?”
Jesse glanced at Allie briefly but turned his attention back to Ryan. “Ah, I’m Jesse with an e . Haven’t heard of them. They still touring?”
“Nope, not anymore,” Allie answered. Jesse’s eyes didn’t leave Ryan.
“Well, man, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I can do for you.”
“That’s okay.” Ryan looked at Allie.
She shrugged. “We’ll get out of your hair.”
“Okay. Cool. You should come see a show some night, though. It gets really wild in here! Lots of great hardcore coming out of Jersey these days.”
“Thanks, man.” Ryan extended his hand to shake Jesse’s again. Jesse shook it and gave Allie a barely perceptible nod. They didn’t bother bidding Alan farewell.
As they surfaced back into sunlight and fresh air, Allie heaved a sigh, glad the disappointing experience was over. She hadn’t really been expecting them to find Jessi so easily and so soon. She felt slightly shaken up, but not devastated. Ryan’s calm, steady presence at her side had helped.
“Well, that was infuriating!” Ryan proclaimed, letting the heavy door slam behind him. Allie turned in surprise.
“I mean, it was a long shot. We knew that. It’s cool.”
“No!” Ryan shook his head. “I mean how he ignored you.”
“What? Oh, you mean Jesse?”
“Yeah!” Ryan was incredulous. “He talked to me and assumed I was the one in a band, and he didn’t even shake your hand! It was like you didn’t even exist.”
Allie knew she shouldn’t laugh at him. She managed to hold it in for approximately ten seconds. Ryan looked stunned as the laughter bubbled out of her.
Bless his heart.
“Ryan, that shit happens all the time. That guy not acknowledging me was the least surprising thing that happened today. It’s almost a cliché. Our band had all the typical stuff happen to us when we were on the road. Club managers thought we were groupies. People asked if one of our dads was our manager. Interviewers assumed we didn’t play our own instruments or write our own songs. I learned to just ignore it. And, apparently, I am still good at that, because I tuned Jesse’s behavior out completely.”
Ryan stared at her for a moment. His shoulders dropped slightly. “Man, that makes me so mad.” He started walking for the car, and she walked beside him, affection surging inside her. She put her hand on his arm, and Ryan halted to look at her.
“It’s nice that you’re concerned. And the more you talk about it and call it out, the better. I think ladies are tired of being told we’re making a big deal out of nothing. Jessi always used to point out that it actually makes more of a difference when dudes speak up. Which is also infuriating, but I have no solution to that problem.”
They walked in silence back to the car and got in. Ryan was about to start the engine when he patted his pockets and then turned to her. “Shoot, I think I left my notebook in there. Hang on.” He was out of the car before she noticed that the book was sitting beside the gear shift. She looked out the window and watched a lady wheeling a baby stroller up the sidewalk while attempting to walk an enthusiastic golden retriever at the same time.
Ryan returned quickly.
“Your notebook is right there.” She pointed.
“What? Ah good. Thanks.”
Ryan started the car and turned it back toward New York.
Fifteen minutes later, Allie’s phone dinged. An email had come in. She clicked the icon. A message from [email protected].
Hey, Allie. I just wanted to apologize for not treating you with respect when you were in the club. Ryan told me I’d been rude, and I realized he was right. He also told me I should listen to your band, and I just did. You ladies were awesome. If you are in a new band, please HMU for a show sometime. I’m really sorry for acting like a shit today. Ryan’s right, we should all try to do better. Cheers. Jesse.
She looked at Ryan, who smirked but didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Did he apologize?”
“Yep.” Allie locked her phone and dropped it back into her bag. “Says he acted like a shithead and that you told him that he should try to be better.”
“That is accurate.”
Allie laughed. The South Orange landscape flowed by her window. She’d thought the day would feel like a failure if they didn’t find Jessi. But it didn’t feel like a failure at all.
As they made their way across the bridge back into Brooklyn, Ryan turned to Allie.
“It’s almost dinnertime. Do you want to just come to our place?”
“I’m not even going to pretend to think it over.” Allie put one hand on her rumbling stomach. “I’m super hungry, and also, I want to tell Anisha about our adventures in Jersey.”
Ryan grinned. “Nonadventures, more like.”
“She’ll get a kick out of Alan, though.”
“That is the truth.” Ryan steered the car over the bridge and into the streets of Williamsburg, stopping and starting as traffic ebbed and flowed.
He pulled the car into a parking space near the apartment. Allie was still fussing with her phone and sunglasses when he appeared at her door and opened it for her.
“Ma’am?” He gestured toward the sidewalk with his arm. “Care to accompany me to my apartment so my zany roommate can feed us yet again?”
Allie smiled at him and stepped out onto the curb. She mimicked his accent. “Why, yes, sir, I do think that would be delightful.”
Ryan laughed. “You do a great Alabamian. Do you want to come home with me and pretend to be my churchgoing Southern wife so my family will stop thinking that New York is basically a stepping stone on the way to hell?”
Allie willed herself not to blush. Ryan locked the car, and they started up the stairs to the apartment.
“Is that what they think?” Allie asked over her shoulder. “That you’re damning yourself to hell by living here?”
“Pretty much.” Ryan shrugged. And then sighed and repeated himself. “Pretty much.”
Allie sensed he didn’t want to talk about it, but she was curious. “ All of them?”
Ryan blew out a gust of air. “Well, I have five siblings, and I’m the oldest, so I think most of them just think I am this, I don’t know, random weirdo? I just never fit in with the family, I guess. I tried. I do love them.” He stopped on the landing between staircases. They were both breathing heavily from the exertion of the climb. “My sister Rachel is just two years younger than me. I think, of everyone, she’s the most likely to be cool with me, at least in theory. I don’t think she would come visit here or anything, but she’d probably answer a letter if I wrote her one. We used to slide letters under each other’s bedroom doors when we were kids. And even if she blocked my email and phone number, she couldn’t have blocked me via the USPS.”
“Why don’t you write her, then?”
Ryan paused, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I worry about how I’d feel if she didn’t write back. Things got…bad with my family before I moved here. The girl I was seeing, Molly, was a friend of Rachel’s. When I told Molly I was starting to have doubts about God, church, all of it…” Ryan paused and sighed.
Allie’s hand gripped the banister until her knuckles were white. She held her breath, not wanting to do anything that might break whatever spell he was under that was leading to him telling her all this.
“She told Rachel. And Rachel told the rest of my family. And then they did this weird intervention type thing, which was terrible. And when I wouldn’t say what they wanted to hear, they all stopped speaking to me. Molly, too. I had been thinking about moving out already, and living in a house where people treated me like a ghost just solidified that decision. Rachel cried when I said goodbye. So I do think she actually thought she was helping me.” He looked down at Allie, almost as though he had just remembered she was there, and gave her an empty smile. “Things are better now. It’s fine.” He started walking again, and Allie knew the conversation was over.