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Damn it.
Why did I ask her that? Why am I trying to pry into the personal life of a woman I plan on staying the fuck away from?
“It’s just how I’ve always expressed myself.” She shrugs. “Writing and singing. I was always the worst when it came to class presentations, things like that. And I was never really good at being a social butterfly, either. Honestly, I probably would’ve missed every high school party if Marina hadn’t been able to get me on the guest list.”
“That’s kind of my story, too.” I copy her slight shrug. “Although mine was more about using music to connect with people when I didn’t know how else to do it. And once Rhys and Van said they wanted to work together…well, there was just no going back. Besides, it was nice to be a part of something that felt bigger than just me.”
“The sum of all parts,” Alyssa muses. “So, does that mean you’re not harboring any dreams of going solo someday?”
“Oh, no. As soon as you get us to the big-time, I plan on breaking away from the pack, Phil Collins-style,” I joke. “Or maybe I’ll be the next George Cameron and make everyone forget everyone else’s name in the band when I finally put out my own stuff.”
“Asshole!” Alyssa laughs. “I always knew you’d be the turncoat. It’s always the quiet ones.”
“Hey, you know what they say, don’t hate the player.” I chuckle now, too, before I hear what sounds like a thousand pots and pans being dropped onto the street, all at once. I then turn to see what’s caused the clanging and banging, soon spotting a food truck a few feet away. A woman is behind its screen, throwing various kitchen utensils through the serving window.
“Fuck you! You cheating motherfucker!” the woman screams, before throwing yet another pot at a man who’s standing on the other side of the food truck. He’s ducking her every attempt to hit him with something, his frame stuck in an apologetic stance.
“I’m sorry, Clarita!” he shouts back at her. “But you don’t know the whole story! She came onto me first!”
“And if you don’t get the fuck out of here, she’ll be the last woman to ever come onto you, too!”
“Clarita—”
“I’m sick of your shit, Raymond!” The woman throws a pan of water toward the man, his shirt and pants soon completely soaked through. “I told you that the last time you fucked around on me, it was either going to be your dick or it was going to be me! And it looks like you already made your choice, you piece of shit!”
“Please tell me you’re listening to that,” I whisper to Alyssa.
And she whispers right back, “I hear it…but I don’t think…I don’t know what to make of it—”
“It’s a break-up anthem,” I reply. “It’s a pop song with a driving beat, the kind of thing people would blast in the car after having their hearts totally obliterated but they still think it was for the best.”
“You’re really able to get all of that from a couple fighting on the street?”
As the couple continue their argument, I raise my fingers in the air between us, pretending to stroke invisible keys on an imaginary piano. As another pot clangs against the pavement, I subtly start to hum a melody, one that matches the tone of the heated conversation playing out. A few seconds later, and I hum the melody a little bit louder.
And when I look up from the keys that aren’t there, I watch as Alyssa begins to sway to the melody, every so often adding in a note or two of her own, even ad-libbing a few lyrics to match the song I’m making up on the spot.
? There’s no coming back from this ?
? You pushed me off the edge of a cliff ?
? So, take all of your shit ?
? Because I’m done with taking it ?
As the argument ends, I move my hands away from the imaginary keyboard, now smiling over at her. I can’t help but be impressed by her, her willingness to go along with my off-kilter methods of song construction, her ability to create something out of nothing like it’s second nature to her.
“Shit! That was going so good!” Alyssa whines, before she chuckles. “I mean, it was going good for us, not so much for Clarita and Raymond. I’m pretty sure she’s going to murder him by the end of the night.”
Alyssa then stares back at me, and there’s a subtle magic that passes between us, the same kind that was in the air after the night of our first concert as a band. We don’t say a word to each other, Alyssa gazing into my eyes, her lips parted like she wants to say something.
Or like she’s waiting for me to kiss her.
“We should probably head back to the studio.” I purposely interrupt the moment, even though every part of me wants to give her exactly what she wants. “Just to jot everything down.”
“Right. Of course.” She nods, her gaze still lingering on my own. “Let’s head back.”
Chapter 14
