– Sammy –
Debut at The Shed
Meg shoves wadded up pyjamas at me, almost pushing me back a step with her attempt to bullshit our fathers for the night. “Put your pj’s on, Sammy. We’re getting ready to make some popcorn.”
I roll my eyes, but Art Montgomery pokes his head into the bedroom and smiles indulgently at his daughter. “You girls are all set?”
“Yes Daddy. We’re going to watch a movie and eat snacks.” Meg bats her lashes sweetly. “Do you want to join us?”
My eyes snap to hers in disbelief, but Art chuckles and shakes his head. “I won’t intrude, and I don’t really want to watch whatever girlie movie you two have planned. But have fun.” He stops for a moment, then his eyes come to mine. “Thank you for coming over, Sammy. I know it was hard on Megan to leave her old friends and come to a new town. You’ve been so kind to my baby.”
Crap.
I have every intention of dressing up and sneaking out in twenty minutes flat, and now I feel bad. “Thank you for letting me sleep over, Mr. Montgomery.”
“It’s my pleasure. You girls have fun, okay? I’ll be down in the den. Call out if you need anything, otherwise I’ll just leave you to it.”
“Thank you, Daddy. We’ll see you in the morning.”
He taps his knuckles on the door jam, as though he’s hesitant to leave, but with a nod of his head, he turns on his heels and leaves.
“Meg!”
She starts stripping her pyjamas off, dropping them to the floor, then darting across the room in her underwear. She closes and locks her bedroom door quietly, then she turns back to me. “What?”
“What if he accepted your offer to watch the movie?”
She scoffs as she heads to her walk-in closet and starts tossing clothes around. “He wouldn’t have. He never does. He’d rather spend his time in the den talking to my mom’s picture. But if he did, he’d be asleep within twenty minutes anyway.”
“What are you doing?”
She stops rummaging, then her eyes come back to mine. “I’m getting ready to go out. What does it look like?”
I start chewing on my thumb nail. “I dunno, Meg. What if he comes back in looking for us?
“You wanna go out, right? You wanna see your man in action?”
Do I want to see Sam on a Friday night, when he’s playing with the band, in his element, and where we could have time together without parents or teachers looking over our shoulders? “Well, yeah, but--”
“No buts!” She tosses a sparkling navy dress at me. “Put this on, put your hair up. Let’s go blow Sam Turner’s mind. My dad is not going to come back in here looking for us, you have my word. This isn’t my first rodeo. He’s gone for the night, and he won’t be back.” She looks up at me with a sequin top in one hand and jeans in the other. “He’s scared of cramping my style, scared of scaring off my new friend. We won’t be seeing him again until breakfast, and we’ll be back long before then.”
“Meg…”
“Put your dress on, Sammy. Or you’ll be going dressed the way you are.”
I look down my body, at my flip flops and shorts. We’ve been sitting by her pool most of the day, getting some sun and making bad food choices. This may have been a forced sleepover, a ruse for a future sneak out, but I’ve had a lot of fun anyway.
After a shower and Meg blowing my hair out till it’s perfectly smooth and soft, I find myself awkwardly shimmying down a drain pipe at the back of her three-story home. I scratch the inside of my thigh painfully, but the excitement and adrenaline sprinting through my body has me practically flying. I’m not scared. I’m exhilarated.
I spring from the side of the house when I have about three feet to go, then giggling and fixing my dress, I watch Meg’s ass sway as she shimmies down after me. She bravely jumps the last five feet, her backpack bouncing as she lands nimbly like it’s no big deal, then taking my hand in hers, we giggle and run toward the giant garage housing about thirteen cars. “Jesus, Meg. How rich is your father?”
She shrugs carelessly. “Dunno. He has a thing for collecting cars.” She walks to a wall in the far left and opens a small door. Her sparkling nails tap as they peruse and dismiss keyring after keyring.
“Umm, Meg…” We aren’t stealing a car. No way, nope, nuh-uh. I’m drawing a line in the sand.
She grabs a set of keys, then spins back and stops when I don’t move out of her way. “No.”
She smiles mischievously. “Relax.”
“We’re not taking a car. Let’s go back to your room and watch a movie. No way in hell am I getting in a car that doesn’t belong to me.”
She rolls her eyes and takes my hand, pulling me along roughly. “Nobody said anything about a car, you baby.”
“No to motorcycles, mopeds, small planes, and aqua marine vehicles too.”
She smiles as we step in the far left corner. “That’s fine too.” She extends her arm out like a game show host, and my eyes stop on the vehicle in front of us. “You didn’t say anything about golf carts.”
Bubbles of laughter escape through my lips, then bending over, I cackle uncontrollably as Meg climbs into a hot pink, bling encrusted monstrosity, and she switches it on proudly, like she just climbed behind the wheel of a Maserati instead of weird battery-operated go-kart. She throws her bag into the back and turns back to me. “It’s pink, Sammy. Clearly it’s mine and not my dad’s.”
“Why do you even have this?” I walk around the kart, and climb in the other side, because really, she’s not wrong. It’s hard to deny who owns this.
“Because we like to play golf, and because he buys me anything I want. I don’t like to play golf, but Daddy likes it when I come out on weekends and spend time with him. So I got this.” She presses her foot down on the pedal, and my hands instantly reach out for anything to hold. This kart has no seat belts and no doors. I might die tonight. We roll out of the garage and brazenly zoom across the lawn in front of the house. It’s like she’s not even trying to be discrete.
It takes us a full thirty minutes to get across town, with Meg’s shimmering high heels pressed to the floor and us reaching dangerous highs of fifteen miles per hour, but we giggle the whole way and by the end of the wind-in-my-hair, edge-of-my-seat, adrenaline-filled ride, my worry and anxiety about being caught are replaced with exhilaration and excitement to see Sam and the guys play.
We pull up and Meg parks her cart in a space near other cars, like we’re legitimate drivers and deserve a space, and with continued giggles, we climb out and she grabs her bag. She takes my hand in hers as the loud music booms through the thin walls. People that I know from school spill through the doors, moving in or moving out, hanging on each other as they giggle the way Meg and I do.
“I can hear him.” She looks at me and bounces her brows. “Does he kiss as good as he sings? ‘Cause that raspy voice makes me wanna kill you and claim him for myself.”
I burst out laughing again, even as unfamiliar tingles spread low in my belly and my legs turn to jelly. “He really does.”
We walk through the large doors, then my eyes stop on the band at the front as they play their instruments and Sam holds the microphone close to his mouth. As though he already knew I was here, his eyes lock me in place as his sweaty hair hangs low. ‘She was the perfect to my faults. The beauty to my black.’
Meg’s hand squeezes mine again. “Jesus, Sammy. He’s breaking my heart.”
I frown, though I don’t take my eyes off him. “Why?”
“Because the majority of women in this world will never find a man that looks at them like that.”
‘She’ll marry me someday, ‘cause the heart knows what it knows, and she’ll listen to the beat.’
Sam winks at me slowly, as his chest fills and empties on each new line he sings. His shoulders and hips sway with the melody, and his right foot taps the tiny wooden stage. Prying my eyes away from him, I look to the rest of the guys. All four sets of eyes are on Meg and me, and I wonder if Sam changed the lyrics to the song simply because I walked in? Something got their attention, and it wasn’t our talking. This place is packed to the brim, and people move around us, knocking us around as though the sway of the collective has the room moving like a ship.
Angelo watches me with a soft smirk, like he’s happy I’m here, because that’ll make his best friend happy. Luc just smashes away at his drum kit, but he sticks his tongue out at us because he’s crazy. His smile is huge and flirty, and though he blows us an air kiss, he doesn’t miss a single beat with his drum sticks.
Marcus glares at us, strumming his guitar and piping in with a few sung words with Sam, but his fiery eyes burn us to the floor. And by us, I mean Meg. Marc has been nothing but a sweet, albeit quiet, guy since I met him. He’s never once looked at me the way he’s looking at Meg now, and frankly, if he did, I’d probably cry.
Meg waves at them, as though she doesn’t even notice Marc’s glare. She tugs on my hand and we turn away and start moving across the room. My eyes continue to move back to Sam, and I smile when he sings ‘I love you,’ and I just know he threw those words in randomly, because they didn’t even rhyme or fit. But that’s okay, because my heart somersaults anyway, and I have to clench my fists closed before I point at my heart to tell him I love him too. Stupid teenage hormones.
Meg drags me to a tall table, and throwing her bag down, she grits her teeth when the bag thumps heavily and booms even above the noise the band makes.
“Um… What’s in your bag?”
She shrugs her shoulders casually, but her smirk says otherwise. She unzips it, and when she pulls out a large bottle of expensive scotch, the music stops instantly, and my eyes snap back to the guys.
Sam shakes his head. “No.”
The entire room stops swaying, and the crowd gets mad that their music stopped. Luc starts beating on the drum kit again, then Marc and Angelo join in, but Sam lifts his guitar over his head and sets it down near Angelo, then he jumps down from the stage and walks toward me quickly. He grabs the bottle from our table in one hand, then he pulls my hip with the other until I crash against his chest. His mouth comes down onto mine indecently. We don’t make out at school like this, so his brazen public display has me blushing, even as my tongue darts out to touch his.
He groans against me, squeezing my hip, then he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “You look beautiful, Ricci.” He drops another kiss on my lips. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Thank you. You guys sound good.”
“I wrote a song for you. Did you like it?”
I giggle against him. “I don’t think that was my song. The words didn’t even rhyme.”
His face shoots back from mine, scandalized and mock offended. “What are you saying? My writing sucks?”
“I’m saying, I bet the other guys get mad when you throw random words in just because I walk into a room.”
“But I love you.” He drops another kiss on my lips. “And as the front man, I get artistic license to do whatever the hell I want.”
I laugh even as his mouth comes down on mine again. Pulling away, he squeezes me against his chest and looks up at Meg. “Thanks for getting her here.”
She smiles indulgently. “You’re welcome. Can I have my--”
“No.”
“But--”
“We don’t drink here, sorry.”
“You don’t--” She gapes, incredulous. “Why the hell not?”
“Because none of us are old enough, and my dad is the law. Drinking here will get us shut down in the blink of an eye.”
“We’re seniors. This is our year for fun!”
“I’m not saying we don’t drink at all. I’m saying we don’t drink here.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s just lame. I had to steal that and everything. Now it’s a waste.”
“Not a waste. We’ll have a drink with you guys after we’re done. But we don’t get drunk here. My dad will shut us down, and nobody wants that.”
Meg pouts, but she nods. Turning away, she starts scouting out the other people here as Sam’s hand roams my lower back. He leans down close to me, his lips feathering the loose strands of my hair. “It feels so weird to have you here. I’ve been waiting years for this.”
“Weird in a good way or a bad way?”
He drops a soft kiss on my lips, then another. “Weird in an amazing way. You look so beautiful.” He places the bottle of scotch on the table beside us, then his hand joins the first, rubbing slowly over my hips and lower back. His lips come down onto my neck, barely a whisper of a touch as his breath bathes my skin. “What time do you have to get home?”
I shrug softly, even as I stretch my neck in hopes he’ll finally press his lips down. “I don’t know. That’s up to Meg, I guess.”
We both look up, and we watch as she dances with a guy that must go to the other high school in town, since I don’t recognize him. He looks to be our age, and though he’s handsome, he’s also not shy. Meg and the strange boy stand as close as Sam and I, and his lips are actually on her neck nibbling as they sway together.
“Do you know him?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Nope. Do you?”
“Nope…” He looks back down to me again. “I’ll be watching though. Stay with Meg, okay?” He finally presses his lips to my neck. “Don’t go wandering alone, and don’t kiss other boys. That’ll make me really mad.”
I giggle as his plump lips tickle my neck. “I promise not to kiss other boys.”
“I waited years for this, and I’m not sharing. Don’t break my heart, Sammy.”
My hands snake up around his neck, and I stand on my toes to come closer. “I promise. In fact, I literally won’t even leave your sight. I’ll stay right here, take a seat, and I’ll watch Luc play.”
He chuckles softly, then he bites my neck gently. “Even better. We don’t usually have trouble here, but the first time you come out to see me, I wanna make sure you’re fine.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“We don’t allow alcohol here, but that doesn’t mean people don’t sneak it in. Don’t accept drinks from anyone, okay? Just me and the band.”
“Okay.”
“We have soda over by the stage. Have as much as you want. They’re in a cooler by Marc. Don’t put your drink down. Don’t leave it unattended.”
He’s such a worrywart. “Okay.”
“I gotta go back before Luc starts singing. He’s been asking for vocals for ages. I can’t give up my spot.”
I giggle again, and repeat, “Okay.”
“I love you, Ricci.”
I love you, too. “Have fun. Sing me a song.”
He drops one last juicy kiss on my lips before he pulls away. “Every song I sing is for you. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
I bite my lip and watch him walk back to the stage. Leaning against my table, my eyes follow his every movement; as he jumps back onto the platform, as he slaps Marc on the shoulder and they share the smile of happy best friends and brothers, as he picks up his guitar and slings it back over his shoulder, as he steps up to the microphone, as he finger combs his long hair out of his eyes, then finally, as he winks at me and joins back in with the music, adding his voice seamlessly. The dancing crowd is energized by his return, the girls swoon as he sways his hips and caresses the microphone. His hands move down to the guitar, his long fingers moving along the neck and strings.
I spent two years fighting him away because I was scared. And though we’re only seventeen, we’re not babies, and we’re not stupid. He wasn’t wrong. We know what we know, and we could be the easiest thing there ever was. Meg was also right. Not everyone will find a man that will look at them the way Sam looks at me.
‘Music is food for the soul, but she’s the elixir of life.’