Chapter 11
Sugar
It’s a well-known fact that drummers are agents of chaos. They’re easily distracted, impulsive dopamine chasers who leave a trail of broken hearts in their wake. I won’t say this doesn’t describe our moose, but one big dopey grin and you’ll forget why any of those things are a problem.
Steamy August air travels through the open door as people file in and join the thirty or so already sitting. There’s no telling how many will be here by the end of the night.
I add my songs to the mug, hoping Jace’s suggestions aren’t too dirty, because he’s already in rare form tonight.
Sam’s been walking around in socks and sandals goofing off with a guitar like a human jukebox but finally settles behind the drums and pulls a mic over.
“I was told to start with Poison so Lu Lu will sing. Who’s got “Nothin’ but a Good Time”? Jace?”
Jace shrugs. “That’s you, man. Take the bass and put DC on drums.”
“Me? Okay, birthday boy, switch me.” Sam pops up and takes the bass from Daniel.
I could be wrong, but I don’t think DC plays drums often. They’re not quite professionals, but they’re definitely not amateurs. It’s kind of fascinating to watch them switch instruments.
Daniel climbs behind the drums and catches me slinking off to the side.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He points a stick at me. “You’re singing. Get your butt out front where I can see you. Count us in.”
They check their volume, and DC hits each drum and gets a feel for the kick.
I watch him, curious how this will go when he lifts his hand and twirls a stick like a pro, smirking as if to say, “Don’t underestimate me.
” I wouldn’t dare. No one twirls like that without having sticks in their hands for hours, probably for years. That much I know.
“Lu Lu, you’re the boss on this one. Ready?
” Sam asks. “I hope I remember the words. Y’all better back me up.
” Sam looks back at Jace and DC, and they both point emphatically at me setting off a war between terror and excitement.
I guess this is payback for all the times I’ve blasted it. “Okay, Smalls, it’s on you. Do it.”
This intro has to be precise. I put my hands over my head, and Daniel matches my count, hitting the sticks together over his head as Jace comes in perfectly on the intro with the thump of the bass drum.
I know they’re actually following DC, not me, but it’s so much fun.
I may never recover from this. I’m hopping like a kid in a bounce house, and I can’t stop smiling.
The crowd has grown too. There might be more than fifty people now, if the full tables are any indication. More than half are singing with us. Not bad for a forty-year-old song.
Jace rips the solo like he could play it in his sleep. I’d probably deny it to his face, but he’s the filthiest guitarist I’ve ever known … which is really good, by the way.
Every time I see him play I wonder why he’s in the medical field.
I fill in when Sam fumbles the words, trying to keep the bass on rhythm, but his big stage personality makes everything look intentional, and the guys are perfect in the background.
Usually, we sit outside with a couple of guitars and Sam playing a cajón box or drumming the back of an acoustic, so this is all a little surreal for me.
Of course, the real star of this show is my smokin’ hot fill-in drummer. I mean, he’s not mine but, you know, for this song. He’s my drummer for this song. And he’s no novice.
I hate to admit it, but Jace is right. Hair metal is my drug of choice. I’m flushed and breathless and feel like I just jumped out of a plane. At least I think it would feel like this, because that’s a nope for me, but this is my kind of adrenaline rush.
I shouldn’t be left unsupervised tonight, because if anything could embolden me to control-alt-delete my whole life, it’s a Poison song.
In Annie’s words, “Marie Kondo that shi—stuff.”
There happen to be a few glaring things in my life not bringing me joy.
Then again, some things bring me all kinds of joy, and that comparison has screamed in my face the last few days. How do I know whether to try harder or light a match?
Tonight, though, is for Daniel, and he’s never seemed more like Jude than right now. I wonder if he put his real name in my phone because he’s giving me permission to use it.
DC takes us into “Fallen Angel” next, and I’m euphoric. When we finish, he hops down the step from the drums, pulling his army green T-shirt up to wipe his face and exposing me to his glistening sweaty abs for the second time today.
I don’t think it’s intentional this time, but I just sang two Poison songs at the top of my lungs, and we know what that does to me.
“Was that necessary?” I ask as he drops his shirt back down.
If my eyes don’t deceive me, he looks … apologetic? Embarrassed? He seemed plenty sure of himself earlier.
There’s something about the nature of attraction that compels boys to be on their best behavior but tempts girls to be ever so slightly naughty.
I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Taking the rare opportunity to mess with him, I lean close so only he can hear. “Careful now. It’s your birthday, not mine.”
His face is already reddened, setting the stage for his smirky-smirk to make another appearance. Aaaaand there it is—another point for yours truly.
That felt like a lot of points.
I wonder if they’re like arcade tickets, and I can cash them in for … nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
This has been the weirdest day.
Sam banters with the crowd about the next song, so I don’t notice Liz until she waves both arms high. She’s still serving even through all our noise but leaves the register to give me a few water bottles and some clean bar towels.
“I’ll wash these and bring them back tomorrow,” I offer, but she shakes her head.
“No, y’all are fine. Look at the kids piling in here! I’m making bank tonight, and y’all are just having fun.” She doesn’t seem to mind the extra work, and I wonder if she might need help this week. It wouldn’t break my heart to see less of Dave.
“Lu Lu, I’m going to start plating pie and grab the cake pops for when it clears out. About an hour, you think?”
“Probably. We all have work or school, so they’re only rock stars until around eleven. I’ll try to keep it moving.”
“Don’t rush. I love the old songs y’all play. Go have fun!” She refers to us collectively, but I’m just tagging along. Annie sees me and comes to help me carry the bottles back.
“Girl, y’all are hot tonight! The tension here is like a volcano about to erupt.
Danny’s lookin’ at you like breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a midnight snack, and Mr. Stormy Pants over there looks like he could spit nails one minute, but then he’s smilin’ the next.
What the heck happened before I got here? ”
“DC pulled a very convincing fake dating act, and Jace was not amused. Or he was until he wasn’t. I don’t know.”
“Ooooh, I hate I missed it. Fake datin’ is my favorite.”
“I don’t know why he still pulls that after a year. Anyone who knows us knows we aren’t together. If anything, it makes me look like a cheating skank.”
“Your idiot boyfriend’s never around, no matter how many times you invite him.
He’s never wanted to hear you sing, even before he worked nights, and that phone call this mornin’ didn’t sound like a warm hug either.
If he showed up now, the whole place would think you’re cheatin’ on Danny—a guy you’ve never even kissed.
” She elbows me and smiles. “Or maybe you have.”
My face pales at the volume of her accusation.
“NO! Geez, Annie, shut up!”
“You don’t even see him enough to break up with his loser aa—behind. Skank it up, sister.” She bounces beside me like she didn’t justify my skankiness. My skankhood?
What is my life?
I’ve got to change the subject. “What do you want Jace to sing? I’ll write one in for you.”
“Uh, whatever, it doesn’t matter.” She shrugs like Jace’s voice doesn’t make her eyes roll back. We both know the truth.
“Right … it’s whatever. That’s why he keeps looking at you.” I can dish it just as good.
And as soon as my life isn’t a perpetual dumpster fire, I intend to find out what the Chandler and Monica is going on between them.
Annie sets the water bottles on the stool next to the drums. “I’m going back to my friends from class. Kick as-pirin up there! Bye-eee!”
She prances back to a table with a few other people as Jace leans into the mic. “Hey, Violent Cupcake, can we continue?”
“Why do you need me?” I glare. “Go ahead.”
“Sam picked a high one. You ready … please?” He raises his eyebrows, and a whole apology plays across his face, like the obnoxious older brother I never wanted.
Sam and DC take water and towels, and I cross to the other side of the drums to see what Jace has. He nods to the slip of paper as he takes the water.
I glance down and snicker. Well, well, well … the tables have turned.
“She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5. It’s Annie’s favorite, and I love to sing it, but I’m not the one who put it in.
“You just want a push on the chorus?” I look up at him for instructions, because we all know he’s got some.
“Yeah, especially the first one, then do whatever feels good. I haven’t sung in a couple weeks.” He bumps my shoulder in his typical “we good?” gesture.
He’s telling me to do whatever? That’s a big responsibility coming from Mr. Stark. I bump him back. We’re good.
“Okay.” I look over, and DC gives me a nod as he picks up his bass. He knows I can handle Jace, but he’s keeping an eye on him.
Jace has a great voice. He sings with ease and agility the same way he plays guitar. He doesn’t need me, but I can’t deny it works. I carry him through the first chorus, but he’s smooth as butter from there.
Annie might need CPR before we’re done. Her eyes are glossed over, and she’s breathing shallow and fast.
Been there, sister.
Daniel’s eyes lock with mine while he mouths the words I sing, and suddenly I’m ready for this song to end.