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“Can’t wait for later, Levi.” Crystal draws out my name like it’s sixteen syllables. The sound of her sexpot voice doesn’t turn me on the way it used to. Instead, I hear the whiny undertone, which is equivalent to nails on a chalkboard.
“Looks like you don’t need me to hang around,” Abby says to my left. When I glance at her, she’s wearing a big, bright smile–almost too bright. It’s plastered on her face perfectly, but it’s not real. I know Abby’s real smiles and that shit ain’t one of them. She glances over her shoulder and sees Dean. “Dean, you don’t mind dropping me off at home tonight, do you?” Her voice is soft and sweet like always, but it lacks authenticity.
“No problem, Abs,” he says while Payton kills me with eye daggers. Seriously, what the fuck did I do to her?
“All set. You can go home and entertain Crystal. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m good. I’m all taken care of.” Quickly, before I can get a word in edgewise, she turns and grabs one of the drinks in Jaime’s hands and takes a long gulping pull. I’m not even sure she realizes what she’s drinking, but by the looks of it, she doesn’t care.
“Yay! You don’t have to babysit the little friend tonight,” Crystal says behind me.
My gut tightens and my body tenses. Abby stands statue-still. Shit, the air doesn’t even move. I’m pretty sure even the noise evaporates around us. Abby doesn’t even turn fully to face us; I can see the hurt on her beautiful face.
Without even thinking, I grab Crystal by the arm and pull her towards the stage. She’s shuffling beside me, teetering unsteadily on platform sandals. Who the fuck wears those kinda shoes to the beach? The guys are already on the stage, preparing for our final set of the night, when I move her just out of earshot.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask quietly.
“What?” she giggles, her blond hair flying in her face. I make no move to adjust the strands.
“That back there. Why would you treat Abby the way you did? I don’t babysit her,” I direct, my voice growing louder with agitation.
“Oh, come on, it was a little joke. Besides, everyone knows she has a crush on you. She follows you around like a lost puppy.” She giggles again, which just pisses me off that much more.
“Are you kidding? Follows me around? She’s my friend, dammit, and not that I owe you or anyone else in this town an explanation, but last time I checked, friends are allowed to do things together.”
“Okay,” Crystal says. She runs her hand up my chest once more, causing me to take a big step back.
“I gotta go. We’re supposed to be on,” I say, turning towards the stage.
I only get a few steps away when she adds, “I’ll wait for you after the show.”
I don’t even stop walking. “No thanks. I’ve got plans with Abby tonight.”
“But…” she starts, but I tune out the rest of her whining.
Back on stage, Gage instantly starts heckling me about where I was with Crystal. I don’t bother telling him I wasn’t with her because he sure as shit won’t believe me. He’s one of those guys who latches onto something and won’t let go. Like a dog with a bone, he’ll keep needling me until I give him the juicy details. Only this time, there are no details to give, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll just accuse me of keeping my dirty little secrets to myself. We’ve been down this road before.
Grabbing my guitar, I give it a quick tune, making sure everything is just right. Dexter starts tapping out the beat on his drums, and Andy and I join in on guitar. Gage belts out the opening notes of “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash and the crowd goes nuts. It’s not the typical rock music we usually play, but when we find a good song that the fans love and we enjoy playing, then we go with it.
After another two songs, it’s time to slow it down. Gage heads off stage to take a quick break, and I step up to the mic. I usually sing backup, but for three songs during our show, I take the reins and sing lead vocals. This song is one of them. It’s my favorite song to sing because it’s Abby’s song.
Way back when we were in grade school, I caught her humming it as we walked home from school. She was going to help me work on our Constitution assignment at her place, which happened every week or so. That particular day, she was quiet, lost in thought, so I let her be. Suddenly, she started humming, and it didn’t take me long to catch on to the tune. She had the voice of an angel, I remember thinking, and wanted to beg her to sing something for me. I had already discovered my love for music, but knowing that Abby shared this passion with me was like kismet. When I asked her about it, she just shied away and hid behind her books. I went home and started working on that song on my guitar. It took a while, but eventually, I got it down, and have been playing it ever since.
I start strumming the opening notes of Jeff Healey’s “Angel Eyes.” Continuing to play the song I know by heart, I scan the crowd until I see her, standing in the back, a soft smile on her face as she sings along to the song. Everything and everyone around us just fades away. It’s as if we’re the only two people on the beach. The way she watches me kicks my heart into overdrive, because I know, when it comes to this song, she only has eyes for me. Not that I want her eyes on me or anything. I mean, we are just friends. But if it were something more than friendship, then I’d be the luckiest son of a bitch to have her there with me.
Closing my eyes, I sing the words I’ve known by heart for fifteen years to my best friend. I can picture her out there saying the exact same words at the exact same time. We’ve sung this song together for years. Not publicly, of course, because she’d rather strip naked and do the chicken dance in the rain in the middle of Main Street than to get on stage and sing. In the privacy of her apartment or mine, we’ve belted out the words on several occasions. Abby actually has a beautiful voice. She just refuses to let anyone but me hear it.
When I reach the end of the second verse, I open my eyes and scan the crowd. She’s still there, standing in the same spot, watching me and singing along. I give her a knowing grin as I finish off the song strong, singing it for her. For her because she loves it, not because it means anything more than that. She’s my friend, remember? We’ve covered this.
Why does it feel like I’m completely full of shit?
