Page 81 of Unfinished Noise

Jamie

Morning came so fast it was as if Jamie hadn’t slept at all. No one talked much while they packed up the van. Everyone crawled, eyes half‑open, tossing bags inside as if they were trying not to wake the day itself.

The sky over Reno was pale and washed out with the early light that made the desert look flat and endless.

Jamie rubbed his face. “Can I sit in the back?” he asked Nathan.

Nathan shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. Get in.”

Jamie slid into the last row beside Alfie. He looked tired, hoodie pulled up, and his hair sticking out in every direction. Nathan always turned the air conditioning on the highest setting to keep them from getting too hot.

Jamie leaned close. “You’re not gonna believe what happened last night.”

Alfie whispered. “What now?”

“Billy lost his guitar,” Jamie whispered. “The one his dad gave him.”

Alfie’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Spencer gave him my new one by accident. Then got mad at me for being mad.”

Alfie groaned. “That’s… yeah. That’s a lot.”

Jamie nodded, staring out the window as the van rolled onto the highway. The desert stretched out in long strips of tan and gold, nothing but open land and heat waves. His irritation simmered again, low and steady.

What hit hardest wasn’t the guitar itself—it was the way Spencer stepped in without even glancing at Jamie, handing it over like it was just another fix‑it tool in Billy’s mess. Instead, Spencer solved Billy’s problem with it. And how could Spencer forget he asked to switch the guitar cases?

Jamie rested his forehead against the van window, watching the desert smear past in long stretches of gold and dust. Heat shimmered off the road, blurring the horizon, and he felt the same blur inside his chest.

He thought about the night Spencer took him to the music store to pick out a guitar. The way Spencer had run his fingers along the neck, checking the frets, nodding with that quiet smile he only used when he was proud of something. Jamie remembered Spencer had said, “This one fits you. It sounds like you.”

Jamie didn’t care that Billy was drunk. He didn’t care that Spencer was trying to keep the band steady. What stung was the way Spencer’s peacekeeping always seemed to come first… even when it meant Jamie had to swallow his own feelings. He shifted in his seat, arms crossed. Alfie glanced over but didn’t say anything. The van hummed along the highway, the desert rolling out forever.

Jamie let out a slow breath, trying to push the ache down. It didn’t go. It settled deeper, quiet and stubborn, right behind his ribs. And he wondered how long he’d have to wait before Spencer realized keeping the band together shouldn’t mean pulling Jamie apart.

Jamie lowered his voice. “He forgot I had switched my new guitar into his case. Just handed Billy my new guitar like it was no big deal.”

Alfie sighed. “It sounds like he thought he was giving Billy his old guitar.”

“Yeah,” Jamie muttered.

“Spencer’s trying to keep the peace.”

“At my expense.”

A rustle came from the front row. Spencer turned around, eyes tired but sharp. “Jamie,” he said, voice firm, “I can’t deal with any stress today. We have a big show to put on. Please get over it.”

Jamie stared at him, stunned for a second. “Get over it?”

Spencer rubbed his forehead. “I’m serious. No drama.”

Something twisted in Jamie’s chest—annoyance, hurt, maybe both. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“You were talking loud enough,” Spencer said. “I heard everything.”

Jamie leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Then maybe don’t listen.”

Spencer exhaled hard and turned around, shoulders stiff.