5. Grant
1417 Words
5
Grant
“She sent me to f*****g voicemail!”
I threw the phone onto the couch and stormed over to my guitar.
“Maybe she’s busy,” Miller suggested.
“She’s been acting f****d up all day—all week. Let’s just play.” I threw my guitar over my head and mechanically tuned her.
“That’s what you get when you deal with up-tight p***y,” Vin said.
I didn’t even have the energy to fight him on that. I couldn’t figure out what Ari’s f*****g deal was. She had never struck me as the kind of girl who would sneak around and avoid me. My favorite thing about her had been her f*****g mouth. She wasn’t afraid to say the s**t that everyone else held back. She couldn’t start acting like every other chick, or I was going to lose it.
“This might not be the best time, but…” Miller started.
“Then save it,” I growled. “We’ve already lost most of rehearsal.”
Miller glanced between McAvoy and Vin. McAvoy shrugged and Vin just looked irritated. He needed to keep his stupid mouth shut. Nothing good ever came from a conversation with him.
“Bro, we need to talk about meeting up with Hollis,” Miller continued.
“I don’t want to talk about Hollis right now either.”
“We need to get serious about what is about to happen. If you don’t have your head on straight about this, then we need to know now.” Miller crossed his arms over his chest and stood as united front before McAvoy and Vin.
“Chill, Miller. Grant’s in. He’s always been in,” McAvoy said. “Look what he did with the EP.”
“Are you fuckers forgetting the time he said that he didn’t even want to get signed?” Vin asked. “I didn’t f*****g forget.”
I slid my hand back through my hair and cursed under my breath. “I explained that s**t, and I’m in. Just don’t say anything to Ari about it yet.”
“How can we? She’s not f*****g here,” Vin said.
My eyes traveled the garage, and I grit my teeth. No, she wasn’t. “Thanks for reminding me, asshole. Now can we play?”
The guys didn’t argue with me as they picked up their instruments and played our regular set. Breathing heavy, I opened a bottle of water and guzzled it before we got to work on the new song I’d given to Miller last week. Life Raft was the first song I’d ever written for the band, but with the way things had been going with Ari, I’d been incredibly inspired to put pen to paper. Now hearing the words I’d written for her about us made my anger simmer until I was boiling over. The fifth time through White Hot did me in.
“f**k this. I can’t play this s**t anymore.” I removed my guitar strap and thrust my cherry red Gibson back onto her rack.
I didn’t miss the glance that Miller and McAvoy shared before agreeing we should break.
“If you have something to say, why don’t you just say it?”
McAvoy shrugged. “You’re acting like an asshole.”
“What else is new?”
“Normally I’d say let’s go get f****d up and find you some ass to make it all better but…” Miller said.
“But what? Let’s go.” I grabbed my jacket and headed to the door. “I’ll drive.”
The guys followed me out without complaint. Even if they had one, I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t care that I was acting like an asshole. I’d been in a shitty mood all day. I thought that the EP and rehearsal would have helped things, but it hadn’t. So now I was going to go back to things I knew worked to numb the pain and douse the anger.
We walked into the Ivy League, our local hotspot, and grabbed a table in front of the empty stage. A hot waitress sauntered over to our table with a round of beers. Her t**s bounced in her tight white tank top.
“Hey guys. My name is Kat, and I’m new here.”
Vin chuckled behind me. “Pussy.”
I cracked a smile, and she blushed deep red.
“I…uh, brought you these from Hurst.” She leaned over and placed beers in front of us.
“Thanks, Kat,” I said, reaching for my beer.
She pushed her dark brown bangs out of her eyes and leaned into her hip. “You’re Grant McDermott, right?”
“The one and only.”
“I love your music,” she crooned.
“Well, why don’t you pull up a chair and tell us all about it, p***y cat,” Vin said. He raised both his eyebrows at her.
“p***y cat,” she mumbled. “I’ve never heard that one before…”
“Ignore Vin. He’s a five year old stuck in a roided out body,” Miller said.
Kat giggled and leaned her hip into my chair. She had on this skimpy little skirt and all I could think about was how a couple months ago I would have grabbed her by her waist, tugged her into my lap, and found my way up that skirt.
But somehow I couldn’t harness that feeling. All I could see was that her hair was the wrong shade, her lips were too full, her eyes too brown…that she just wasn’t Ari.
I stood abruptly, forcing Kat to take a step away from me. “I’ve got to take a piss. Here. Miller will take care of you.” I pushed the girl into Miller’s lap and then left the table.
I skipped the public restrooms and walked backstage. Hurst, the owner was lounging in the back room. I nodded at him as I walked by.
“Grant, my man!” he called, jumping up. “When am I going to get you guys back in here? Are you too big to play my venue?”
We slapped hands together, leaned in, and clapped each other on the back. “I’m never too big for the Ivy League, Hurst. I’d play tonight if I had my guitar.”
“You don’t bring it with you everywhere?”
“Not tonight.”
“Where’s your girl anyway? Isn’t she the other thing you bring with you everywhere?” Hurst asked.
I shrugged noncommittally. I didn’t want to talk about Ari. “No idea. I’m here for the booze.”
Hurst nodded his head. “Trouble in paradise. I’ve got just the thing.”
I followed Hurst out of the back room and to the bar where he fixed us a couple shots. After three or four, I felt a thousand times better than I had earlier. Why had I decided to let up on the drinking anyway? I could drink and have a girlfriend. It wasn’t like Ari didn’t drink, and I could control myself.
Just when I was drinking…I didn’t want control.
I wanted another drink.
A smile split my face as I poured alcohol down my throat. It was a welcome reprieve from thinking. I’d given up that s**t when my dad went to jail. And just because he was coming back and Ari was acting like someone else didn’t mean that had to change. I could f*****g forget everything all over again.
I stumbled back over to the guys as a band took to the stage. It was some chick singer with four guys playing instruments. Normally I didn’t dig chick bands, but then she picked up a f*****g badass seafoam green Fender guitar. Her fingers played across the strings like the guitar was an extension of her body. I understood that…right there.
“Hey Kitty Kat,” I called. “Get us another round, will ya?”
“You haven’t even had your first one,” McAvoy pointed out.
“I found Hurst.”
“Ah,” McAvoy said, as if that explained everything.
“Um…beer?” Kat asked, skirting around the table and walking toward me.
I slung an arm around her and pulled her closer. “How about something a little stronger?”
“Anything you want,” she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes. She slid a piece of paper into the front pocket of my jeans. “I get off at two.”
“Whiskey. Make mine a double.” I released her and fell back into my abandoned seat.
“Bro, you think that’s a good idea?” Miller asked, eyeing the piece of paper in my hand.
“I was f*****g moving in on the little p***y cat while you were gone,” Vin sulked behind me.
I tossed him the paper. “Have at it.”
Miller looked relieved and seemed to relax for the first time that night.
“Hey everyone! I’m Killian, and we’re Bank Avenue. Thanks so much for having us out tonight.”
The Ivy League applauded softly except for a group near the front who went crazy. Likely people the band had brought with them.
But once they started playing, I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t have a large entourage.
“Hey McAvoy, send out a blast saying we’re at the League tonight.”
“But we’re not playing,” he said. His eyebrows knit together.
“The drinks are flowing. The music is really f*****g good. I want our crowd,” I said, sinking back into my chair. “Make it happen.”
- Writer
