Day 15 Haverhill, MA
MAX
“YOU ACTUALLY KNOW SOMEBODY named River Hawke?” Sage’s laugh is tinkly through the speaker as I hold the phone to my ear.
“I mean, yeah — sorta?” I push my hair back from my forehead. “His real name is Jeremy or some shit. But you know the type. Reality just isn’t good enough for some people.”
“Sounds like you really like this dude a lot,” Sage quips. She’s a little distracted, but I can hear baby Leo cooing in the background, so it makes sense.
“You can tell, huh?” I scuff my toe against the sidewalk and lean against the warm brick wall behind me.
“I mean, I dunno. I guess he’s okay? He’s just the sort of guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to punk rock, and he’s always been a little aggro with me.
Sam gets along with him a lot better than I do, but he’s always been a lot nicer than I am.
You know, he doesn’t let assholes get to him. ”
It’s dinnertime, and I’m chatting with Sage outside a diner while I wait for Sam and Roxie and Blake to finish up.
She called to check in with me about the tour, so I’m getting her caught up on the gig we’re playing tonight.
River isn’t such a bad guy, I guess. We used to play shows with his band back home, until he graduated last May and relocated up here.
Sam kept in touch with him, and when we were planning this tour, he offered to reach out.
And hey, the dude found us a gig and offered us a place to crash for the night, so I just have to keep my mouth shut and play nice.
“Hey, I don’t want anyone implying that my little brother isn’t nice,” Sage replies. “But I do agree that Sam is an angel. How’s he doing, anyway? Is he enjoying the tour?”
“He’s —”
Just then, the door to the diner opens, and Sam steps out into the warm evening light, his pink hair nearly glowing. He shields his eyes against the sun as he scans the parking lot, and when he spots me, his face relaxes into a shy grin. And I’m pretty sure all my insides are liquid.
“He’s great. Really fucking awesome.” Suddenly my eyes are prickling, and I don’t know why.
No, that’s a lie — I want to fucking tell her everything, spill my guts until she knows all about Sam and me.
But I probably shouldn’t do it over the phone.
“Hey, Sage? I can’t wait to see you next week. I, um — yeah.”
“Aww, me too, little brother. Three more days, right? Leo can’t wait to see his uncle again.”
I clear my throat. “Kiss his little head for me, okay? I gotta go.”
When I reach the van, Sam has the back door open, rummaging through his bag, so I step up behind him, wrapping both hands around his waist to squeeze him tight and dropping a kiss on his cheek. Sam turns to look at me over his shoulder, laughing as he cups the side of my face.
“What was that for?” he asks.
I shrug. “Do I need a reason? Come on, let’s go.”
Sam has been a little squirrelly all day, and he keeps that up on the short drive from the diner. When I look over at him, he’s picking viciously at his fingernails, flaking the dark polish onto his jeans and brushing it onto the floor. I reach across the seat, covering his hand with mine.
“You know, if you want to play tonight, you’re still going to need your fingers.”
Sam nearly leaps out of his skin, but then he grins at me apologetically. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“You okay? You’re all jumpy.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam laces our fingers together, and okay, maybe he starts jiggling his leg instead, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
It doesn’t take long for Blake to drive us to the venue, which is an all-ages punk club in a little brick storefront in the commercial district.
There’s an alley around back, and when Blake pulls up to the rear door, River is leaning against the wall, smoking a clove cigarette.
He’s a tall, stringy guy with dirty blond hair that sticks up every which way and a permanent squint that I’m sure somebody out there finds attractive.
When he spots us, he takes a long drag, watching as we all pile out of the van.
Might as well get it over with, I guess. I walk over and hold out my hand, and River takes it, giving me one of those weird bro hugs that is really more of a shoulder bump. “Hey, River, nice to see you again.”
“Looking good, Max.” He grins, and I brace myself. “Nice of you to bring your little pop punk band up here to play for us.”
“Oh, did I hear they’re trying to replace Ryan Seacrest?” I shoot back. “Because you’d look great on TRL with those frosted tips.”
“Fuck you,” River replies cheerfully, then turns, drawing himself up to his full height. “Sam.”
Sam gets a real hug, a rib-cracker that lifts him all the way up onto his toes. When River finally lets him go, Sam’s cheeks are pink, and he won’t look at me. “Um. Hey.”
Beside me, Roxie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Can we save the musical dick-measuring contest until after we’ve loaded in? You two will have plenty of time to debate whether it’s selling out to play songs that people actually like once we’re all set up.”
“Yeah, let’s do that —” Sam says quickly, and hightails it toward the back of the van.
But I have my eyes on River’s face. He’s watching Sam’s retreating form, eyes moving languidly as he tracks Sam’s movements, slowly inhaling a lungful of smoke.
Then he turns to catch my eye, and when he does, a wolfish smile spreads across his face as he exhales a clove-scented cloud in my direction.
And in that moment, I know exactly how it is.
I fucking hate him.
SAM
Fucking fucking fuck. This is a fucking disaster.
We needed gigs in New England, okay? And River always told me to look him up if I ever came up this way.
I figured, what was the harm? I’ve been so distracted the last few days with Max that I didn’t even have time to worry about this shit.
It wasn’t until last night when River texted me to ask when we were getting into town that I really thought about what a car crash it was all going to be.
How the fuck was I supposed to know that Max and I were going to get together?
Breathe. Soundcheck is in ten minutes, which means all I have to do right now is find —
“Fuck!” I explode, digging in the front of my guitar case. “Has anybody seen my little bag of picks?”
Max looks up from tuning his guitar. “Don’t you always keep them right there?”
“If they were here, I wouldn’t still be looking for them, would I?” I begin to rifle through the pockets. I have my capos, my extra strings — fuck, what did I do with them?
“Do you want to borrow one of mine?”
“No, yours are too thick, I can’t get —” I mime plucking the strings, like some kind of loon. “You know, the dexterity —”
Max puts his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, close your eyes.”
I sigh, but I do what he says. “Okay, now what?”
“What were you thinking about last night while we were cleaning up?”
I try to cast my mind back. “We were in a rush to get back to the house. And I was distracted, because you kept giving me that look and grabbing my ass —”
Max chuckles. “Should I grab your ass now to get you back in the right headspace?”
I can’t help giggling, even though my heart is racing. “You’re crazy. No, lemme think. We were rushing and putting things away at the last minute and — oh, and right before we walked out I saw my picks and grabbed them —”
“And you put them —”
“In my messenger bag, which is in the van!” I open my eyes triumphantly, and Max is grinning at me. “Thanks, dude.”
“Anything to get you to look at me like that,” Max replies, and my stomach flips over. “We still have plenty of time — Roxie and I can finish up here while you go get them.”
I set off down the hall and out into the balmy night. The van is right there, and it doesn’t take me long to stride over and yank open the back door. All I need to do is find my bag, grab my picks, and get back to Max. Just a couple minutes on my own, no need to —
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were avoiding me.”
River’s drawl is like a bucket of ice down my spine. I close my eyes and count to five before I turn to face him.
“Um, you know it’s just a lot of work — getting set up and all —” My voice is high and reedy, and I sort of hate myself.
“Mm, is that it?” River leans against the van, and I don’t like the way his eyes slide over me.
“Because I got the impression from all your messages the past few weeks that you were looking to pick up where we left off back at school. And I was wondering if I’m going to see you tonight after the show. ”
“Okay, look —” I locate my bag of picks and slide it into my pocket, slamming the van door shut. “I did give you that idea, and I’m sorry, but things have changed. I’m — I’m with Max now.”
For a second, River blinks at me. But then he bursts into snide laughter. “Oh my god, you poor deluded idiot. How long has this been going on?”
“Since Monday?” My face feels like it’s on fire.
River counts on his fingers. “Five whole days, huh? Come on, you can’t be serious.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.” I turn to go, but he grabs my arm.
“Hey, don’t be like that. It’s just —” He lets go of my arm, but somehow my feet are still rooted to the ground.
“Look, I don’t want to see you locking yourself into something when you’re just going to get hurt.
You know what our dear little friend Max is like.
He’s got nothing between his ears, and he’s always looking for a new toy to play with.
You know he’s just going to have his fun with you until the next girl he really wants comes along. ”
“I guess you know all about keeping a guy on the down low because you don’t want anyone to know you like dick,” I spit back, my voice shaking.
“Oh, was that what we were doing?” River crosses his arms, hugging his chest. “Here I was, thinking you didn’t want Max to know we were fucking because you know he can’t stand me and you didn’t want him to think less of you. Hmm, I wonder what he’d say if he found out now?”
“Don’t you fucking dare —”