Breaking Her Bad by Michelle Mankin

 

 

 

 

 

Claire

There was a lot of arguing during our first official band practice. Addy was vocal and had strong opinions. My mom had opinions as well. Bob stomped his foot and insisted we keep “When Doves Cry”on our set list.

But as the bar filled up, those three had to work. Then it was just the band.

Kyle suggested we start out with a few Led Zeppelin tunes. “No Quarter,” of course. I loved doing the keyboards on that one. “Ramble On”was next, then“Communication Breakdown.” I didn’t like the way I sounded on the primal yells. A guy would have been much better, sexier, but Kyle insisted we keep that song and that I sing it.

Since Tommy and I liked Anthem, we did a few of their tunes. Gale Lafleur was a hell of a bassist, so Anthem’s bass parts were challenging. Being on a new instrument in general was challenging, but it was exhilarating to try something new, and a total rush being onstage with Kyle and Tommy.

Kyle wasn’t only a natural leader. He had a feel for the music, and it quickly became apparent that he also had a vision for the band. One we could all get behind, because it brought our individual talents together cohesively.

“I think we ought to call it a night.” Kyle covered his strings to silence them, then shifted to look at Tommy. “Good drum fill on that last bridge.”

“Thanks, man.” Up on a riser, sitting on a stool behind his kit, Tommy lifted his chin.

“I like the way we sound.” My hands draped over the center mic, I included both Tommy and Kyle in that assessment. “Right call having me speed up my phrasing.”

“Amazed at how quickly you’ve taken to bass.” Kyle’s silver eyes gleamed. His praise made me feel like I had wings.

I tapped the body of the Fender that amazingly used to be my mom’s. “It’s easy to sound good on a high-quality instrument. And you seem to have a real clear vision how each of the parts in the songs should sound and how we should play them.” I tilted my head. “How can that be?”

“Music was my therapy at one time like it’s always been yours,” he said. “As things worsened at home, it was only an occasional escape. After my parents were gone, I rarely played guitar anymore. Mostly, I put on my headphones. In my room late at night, listening to my favorite tunes, I pulled apart the threads and analyzed each component. I liked coming up with different ways to put them back together.”

“It became something you could control,” I said, seeing it clearly now. Skellin controlled so much of what Kyle could and couldn’t do.

“Yeah, like with numbers. I think there’s a best way, a logical way, to put the pieces together.”

“What about the heart aspect?” I asked.

“Music being feelings? Music making me happy?” Kyle asked. “Music being air? Breathing? Life?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. That was exactly how I felt about it.

“You gave that back to me, Claire.” He moved closer. “Since you, I’ve started playing again with my heart engaged.”

Not me. I couldn’t believe that. “Music is inside you, Kyle. I’m glad you’ve rediscovered it again.”

“It was locked inside me, babe. You are the key. The key to so many things for me.” He placed his hand on my shoulder, and emotion filled his eyes. “A long time ago, I used to have a dream that I might be in a band someday. Get right the things my old man got wrong.”

“And now here you are doing it.” I nodded approvingly. I liked knowing where his vision came from. Loved knowing he thought I was a critical element.

“Here we are,” he said meaningfully, and I had to blink fast to stave off emotion of my own.

“Glad you got that back, man.” Tommy’s voice deepened. “Glad to be a part of something like this with both of you.”

We all exchanged glances, the vibe heavy.

“Us three against the world,” Kyle said firmly. “We have each other’s backs, no matter what. We don’t sell out for anything. We’re friends first and don’t mess that up like our parents did. You agree, yeah?”

“Yes, Kyle.” I nodded.

“Fuck yeah,” Tommy said.

“Don’t forget me.” Missy waved from a small table she’d dragged into position directly below the stage. “I’m part of this us-against-the-world shit too.”

“Of course you are,” I said.

In my head, I also added Chad to the list. As much as Missy tried to keep him at arm’s length, I didn’t believe he would stay there.

“Right.” Missy cranked up her chin. “I’m the official president of the No Quarter fan club. I’m also the stylist for the band. Signing the contract right now.” She mimed writing in the air.

I rolled my eyes at her. “You’re the only fan in the club.”

“So, we agree?” Kyle asked, and everyone nodded. Casting a questioning glance around, he said, “What about the set list? Is seven covers okay?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Absolutely,” Tommy said.

“Great.” Wearing his serious band-leader expression, Kyle typed the titles into his phone. “Do we want to add anything original?”

“Do we have anything original?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t write music.” Kyle exhaled heavily. “But I have riffs.” He tapped his temple. “Loads of ’em in here.”

Tommy wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I write poetry. Shit that would probably work.”

My mom wandered over, a round bar tray tucked under her arm. “I have a bunch of old lyrics that I wrote but ABCR never used.”

“You do?” I asked. “Where?”

I’d helped transfer what few belongings we had from our Lakeside home to Addy’s, but I didn’t remember moving anything like that.

“There’s pages of them, underneath my sweaters in a box under the bed.”

“I’d love to look at them with you,” I said, incredibly curious about my mom and those days.

Kyle gave my mom an eager look. “Any old recordings?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” She glanced at Tommy. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”

He nodded. “I’ll check with my dad.”

“We can go through my songs after work if you want.” Mom glanced at me. “I could play them for you on my guitar.”

I smiled. “I’d love that.” Sharing anything with my mom was big, but music was huge.

She smiled, and the worry line between her eyes smoothed. “I’d love it too.”

“Rachel.” A patron waved to get her attention.

She winced. “Gotta get back to work.” She turned and moved away.

“It’s getting late.” Kyle frowned as his phone dinged, once, then again and again. He swiped his fingers over the display, his gaze moving as he read the messages. When he glanced up, his eyes were stormy, and his frown had grown.

“Who is it?” I asked, fearing I knew.

“Work.” He shook his head. “I gotta go.”

“I’ll take you.” Tommy stood, laying his sticks on his snare.

“Shit hole will be out of your way.” Kyle’s black brows shot together. “You have work too, yeah?”

Missy turned to me. “I’ll take you. I need to stop by my place anyway, but Claire—”

“I’ll just stick around here,” I said quickly. “Go home with my mom and Addy later.”

“Great.” Kyle turned to put his dad’s ESP away.

Quickly, I placed my mom’s Fender in her old case. Closing the latches, I set the case behind the stage and crossed to Kyle.

“Hey.” I tapped him on the back. My stomach swirled when he turned around, still wearing that disconcerting frown. “Is everything okay?”

“No. Maybe. Probably.” His expression dark, he reached for me. His fingers curling around my belt loops, he drew me into him.

I could feel his tension. It rolled off him and crashed over me.

“I just wanted to say that . . .” He trailed off and swallowed.

“What, Kyle?” I watched his Adam’s apple bob. My stomach did some serious bobbing like a cork on an unsettled sea.

“I don’t want you to ever give music up like your mom did. You shine when you play. You glow without a spotlight. On a stage is where you’re meant to be.”

“Ditto to you, Kyle.” I searched his eyes, finding nothing to settle me, which was unusual.

Tommy came closer, jiggling his keys. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Kyle’s brows remained together. “I just wanna be sure we’re on the same page. I love this. I think we all do.” Yet he stared hardest at me.

“We do.” Tommy glanced at me. “Right, Claire?”

“Yes, I’m all in with us as a band.” I met Kyle’s gaze and spoke from my heart. “I love being onstage beside you. I love you, Kyle.”

At my words, he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. When he reopened them, his eyes weren’t just cloudy, they were as dark as a thunderstorm.

Lowering his head, he crushed his mouth to mine. It was a potent kiss, an amazing kiss like all of Kyle’s were. But it was too short. I swayed when he abruptly released me.

“Let’s go,” he told Missy. Turning, he marched down the steps.

“Okay.” Frowning, Missy followed him.

“What was that all about?” Tommy asked, moving beside me.

“I don’t know.”

My stomach churning, I reached up to touch my cheek and found it wet. Tears had spilled without me being aware, but it hadn’t escaped my notice that Kyle didn’t say those three important words back.