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11
Maddox
“Five minutes, Maddox,” Frank tells me as I get ready for my first set of the weekend.
“Thanks, Frank,” I call back to him, staring at my phone.
As soon as the door closes, there’s a knock, and I look back up to see EJ opening it. “Yo, Maddox.”
“EJ-BJ!” I happily call out. “What’s up, man?”
“Yeah, still hate that nickname,” he replies. Skye walks in behind him.
Smiling, I wiggle my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah. Bow-chika-bow-wow,” I tease.
“That too.” He laughs. “You know, I thought I was being a good friend showing up unannounced tonight, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Shut up.” I pull him in for a hug. “What are you guys doing?”
“Not much,” Skye answers. “We thought we’d come down and see how you were holding up. Your first month is almost over.”
“Yeah, it’s getting there. And it’s been awesome. Adam has been hanging around, and you guys know how we get sometimes.”
“Yeah, no need to remind me.” EJ grins. “Where is the movie star?”
“He had reshoots to film down in Texas. Supposedly he’ll be gone for a week, but we’ll see. You guys sticking around for a while? Want to party after?”
“Maybe,” Skye says. “The girls are swinging by in a little bit. Roxy is on the hunt for new meat.”
We all start laughing, and my phone chirps. Pulling it out, I discover Jenny’s sent me a text message asking if I want to do something this weekend. I sent her an apology, telling her I was sorry for blowing her off last weekend, but I had reservations doing it. Not that I don’t feel bad about what happened, I do, but I knew apologizing meant she’d probably go back to thinking we might be starting something serious. And here’s the proof.
Me: Sorry. I think I’m catching the flu or something. Probably just gonna finish my sets, go home, and try to get better. I’ll text you when I’m feeling up to it.
I know, I know. It’s a flimsy, not to mention cowardly, way out of seeing her. But she’s a nice girl. I don’t want to be a complete ass, especially after last week. Easing the distance between us should work. After a while, she’ll probably get the hint.
“You guys can hang out back here if you want, or head up to the second floor,” I tell them, sliding my phone away.
“Yeah, we’ll probably wait out there until Leah and Roxy show up,” EJ says.
“Cool.” I give EJ another bro hug, and then head out to the stage.
The crowd cheers when I get up there, and I slip on the headphones over an ear, starting up the music. I’m already glancing up at the reflective glass window that lines Cece’s office. I shake it off and refocus on my control board, playing my music. I have got to get that chick out of my brain. Unfortunately, ever since the soda-spilling incident, that’s become infinitely harder.
The interaction was almost like all of our others, especially with her shooting me down yet again. But there was a moment there that I saw a glimpse of her I hadn’t seen before. Especially when she thanked me for not being … me.
I know I’m forward, and some people call me an asshat for how cocky I can be, but as I told her that day, I do know where to draw the line. Her little brother was funny, especially about the video game stuff. I’ve been telling myself that I played it cool to come off as the cool guy in a band, even though he had no idea who I was. And maybe there was a little bit of that there, but everything about that interaction was real. Messy but real. She wasn’t with her friend or acting like the boss. I was on my way out, getting one of the many lunches I still owe the band for losing the bet. And for a moment, I wasn’t a rock star. I was just Maddox.
Stop it. Don’t be an idiot. You’re Maddox freakin’ Barkley.
Ugh. “The Voice” has appeared all too often since I had those lyrics in my head.
All guys have “The Voice.” Some of them are louder than others. Mine has usually stayed in the background since the Kings exploded on the scene. I listen to it here and there, but there’s never been any real need for him to get loud and tell me to man up already. Until recently.
You’re going to forget her because not only is she technically your boss, but you don’t need to chase her. Girls chase you, not the other way around.
There he goes again. The thing is, he’s right. I am Maddox freakin’ Barkley. I’m a rock star, and I don’t chase girls. Even as I’m trying to convince myself of that fact, I turn a dial on my table, then glance back up at the mirrored windows.
Stop looking up there! She’s not into you!
