Page 33 of Conquest

“I’m not joking. I’m on my way home and if I look in my rearview mirror, I can see him following me.”

“Fine. Then I’ll meet you over there so you can introduce me to him.”

“Now’s not a good time. I’m only running home so I can change, then Kenny and I are going to a meeting at Phoenix Records. They might sign us! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Uh huh,” Brandon said, his voice flat and unbelieving. “Well, whenever you decided to quit this stupid joke, then you can give me a call. Until then, think about what you put me through the past couple days. Talk to you later.”

“Brandon, wait! Don’t hang up like that!” Jesse listened to the silence on the other end. “Are you still there?”

“I’m not talking until you quit being a moron.”

Jesse took a deep breath, willing his voice to come out as calm as possible. “How about this? If everything goes good at Phoenix, then all of us will go out to celebrate, and I’ll introduce you to Evan, that way you can feel like a major jackass and learn to believe me when I tell you I’m not joking.”

“For your sake, he better at least look a little like Evan Arden with the way you’ve been clinging to this dumb joke.”

“Whatever. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Fine. Bye.”

Jesse hung up his phone to the satisfying mental image of flinging it out the driver’s side window and watching it crash and roll across the pavement. He swung onto his street, found a place to park where Evan could park behind him, and hopped out of his truck.

Evan met him at the tailgate and took off his sunglasses, looking up at Jesse’s apartment building, the brick discolored from years of city grime. He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the stained and weathered structures on the street. Most of the buildings seemed somewhat inhabited, though nearly every one had sheets of plywood covering a few windows. The majority of cars on the street were battle-scarred derelicts that looked like they hadn’t seen a carwash since they were built.

A young woman with a black eye and cracked lip staggered across the street toward a group of young guys throwing dice, her blond hair hanging in limp strands around her skeletal face. The vinyl purple miniskirt she wore was askew on her bony hips, her white halter top barely fit her flat chest. She fell into one of the guys, offering to let him do whatever he wanted for twenty bucks. In a look of disgust, the guy shoved her away, and she slunk off with his cursing chasing her.

“I see what you meant now by saying this isn’t that bad of a neighborhood.” Evan grabbed Jesse’s guitar and bass from the truck. “The crack whore and gang bangers really create a nice ambiance.”

“There’re worse neighborhoods.” Jesse hefted Kenny’s two guitars and led the way inside. “Sorry, I’m on the third floor and the elevator’s broken.”

Evan glanced at the yellow paint peeling off the walls of the stairwell.

They reached the third floor and walked down a short hall. Jesse set one of the guitars outside his apartment and turned to Evan. “Hey, I’m not sure how Kenny’s going to react to knowing that it was you I spent the weekend with, so try and stay cool if he freaks, okay?”

Evan looked at him, confused. “Doesn’t he know you play with guys?”

Jesse lifted one hand, teetering it back and forth. “Yeah, but we don’t really talk about it, and I’ve never brought anyone home. Of course, I’ve never met anyone worth bringing home, but that’s neither here nor there. What I’m trying to say is, don’t take it personal if he gets a little funny.”

Evan chuckled softly. “Great.”

Jesse cracked the door open. Kenny flung it the rest of the way.

“I’m gonna beat your…” Kenny stopped, his eyes off Jesse and on Evan.

“Kenny, you remember Evan from the other night, don’t you?” Jesse said, walking inside. “So you see, your guitars were more than safe. Navy SEALs couldn’t break into Ev’s house with the security he’s got.”

Kenny stared at Jesse, the realization of what he was saying sinking in. He stood dumbstruck, his honey-brown eyes round, his mouth agape.

Evan held out his hand to him. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you this Saturday, but you’re a real slick guitar player.”

Kenny looked down at Evan’s hand. Tentatively, he took it, muttering, “Thanks.”

Evan nodded and moved to Jesse’s side as he sat on the couch.

Kenny’s gaze darted back and forth between them. “You mean, you two, but he’s…he’s…” He collapsed down in a chair next to the couch, rubbing one hand through his shaggy, dark blond hair.

Jesse leaned toward Evan. “I think his little hamster is running too fast on its wheel. He’s about to have a meltdown.”

Evan smirked at him. “I can’t believe you two are in a band together. Sometimes you can’t shut up and this poor guy can’t even get words out.”