Getting Over You Page 12

  “What? Nicholas would love this.”

  “I’m sure he would,” she said. “But a place like this… this late… not a chance.”

  “Damn,” I said. “I want him to see me someday.”

  “He will,” Cindi said. She gently slapped my face. “When you’re big and famous, you’d better give us backstage tickets.”

  “I think they’re called passes,” I said. “And you’ll be there with me. You and Nicholas. Even grumpy Noah.”

  “Stop it,” Cindi said, and she punched my arm.

  I opened my mouth to say something else and a voice blared over the microphone.

  “Let’s go outside,” I yelled to Cindi.

  I carried my guitar and not a single person said a word to me. Some gigs you could play your best and feel like shit at the end of it. That was just how it went.

  Outside, I put my guitar case on the ground and lit up a smoke.

  “Mind if I have one?” Cindi asked.

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Is it a problem, big brother?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “I’ve been trying to get you to smoke with me for years.”

  “You were a corrupt asshole, Cros.”

  “Still am,” I said.

  I watched Cindi take a drag and she did it so smoothly.

  “What?” she asked, smoke dancing off her lips.

  “When?”

  “A while ago,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you always made it look so cool.”

  “Come on, Cindi…”

  “Life,” she said. “It’s stressful.”

  “With Noah?”

  “With everything.”

  “Is he good to you?”

  “Crosby, stop it. You know Noah is good to me. He’s home right now so I could come out. He put Nicholas to bed. Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop it.”

  “I’m just curious. You’re always going to be my baby sister. I beat up your boyfriends in the past.”

  “So, you’re offering to beat up my husband?”

  “If need be,” I said.

  “That would be interesting,” Cindi said. “Noah is pretty tough.”

  “I’m tougher,” I said.

  “You’re such a loser.”

  “Thanks for that. I need to hear that after what just happened in there.”

  “You played amazing,” she said. “You know you did.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t too bad,” I said.

  I put my head back and thought about playing more songs. I wanted to play more songs. I wasn’t done for the night, even though my time slot was over.

  “How is Nicholas?” I asked.

  “Great. Full of life and energy.”

  “He keeps you on your toes.”

  “All the time.”

  “That’s good. Let him explore the world.”

  “I just get nervous he’s going to hurt himself,” Cindi said. “He fears nothing. He will climb anything. Jump off anything. He makes me nervous.”

  “Ah, he’ll be fine,” I said. “He’s a boy. He’ll break an arm or a leg and survive to tell the story.”

  “I know. It’s…”

  Cindi turned away from me.

  I knew that move.

  She was crying.

  She hated to cry in front of people. Especially in front of me. Because if she was crying then I was going to beat the hell out of someone.

  “Cindi…”

  I bumped my shoulder into her.

  “Sorry,” she said. “This is your night. I’m here for you. This isn’t about me.”

  “I did my thing,” I said. “You need me now. What’s wrong?”

  Cindi looked at me, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s tough.”

  “What’s tough?”

  “Cros…”

  “Just talk to me, sis.”

  “We’re broke,” she said. “It’s bad, too. Noah is struggling. I’m struggling. And we’ve got Nicholas in the mix of things. He’s so young and he doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t need this in his life either.”

  I swallowed hard. I thought about growing up and how hard it was.

  “I’m going to take care of you,” I said. “All of you. I’m going to make sure Nicholas has a great life. And you are happy. And Noah gets to the best doctors in the world for his back issues.”

  “Don’t say that stuff, Cros,” she said.

  “I said it. I mean it. I’m close. I’m really close here, sis. And when this thing breaks…”

  Cindi smiled. “You always know what to say.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are. You’re going to be amazing. You are amazing. Everyone will see it too.”

  I watched Cindi finish her cigarette. She squashed it against the building and hugged herself.

  “I’m going to head home.”

  “You sure?” I asked. “We can grab a bite to eat. Like we used to do.”

  “Dine and dash?”

  “No, this time we’ll pay,” I said. “I’ve got money.”

  “Thanks, Cros. But I just want to go home.”

  “Thank you for coming out here. Supporting me.”

  “I’ll always support you,” Cindi said. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Hey, I’m proud of you too,” I said. “We grew up in hell, sis. You’re married, with a kid. I know you said the money thing isn’t good, but screw that. Money is paper. You have a family. A real family, sis. I’m really proud of you.”

  “Thanks. And don’t tell anyone I smoke. I’m trying to quit.”

  “Okay. It’s our secret.”

  “Can I have one more smoke for the road?” she asked.

  “Quitting, huh?”

  “I said trying,” Cindi said.

  “Not that hard.”

  “It’s our secret,” she said.

  I lit another cigarette and watched my little sister walk away.

  It was my job to take care of her. To take care of the only family we had.

  The music was going to do it.

  My sister would be happy. And my nephew would have a good life.

  “I promise,” I whispered into the night. “I fucking promise.”

  16

  DON’T LOOK…

  NOW

  Crosby

  I don’t remember when the stage was taken down. But it was replaced by more tables and TV’s were installed in the corners so people could sit, eat, and watch sports. Three of the four tables were being used and I was sure those people had no idea what was once there and what it meant to me and for me.

  But just as Nicholas was a memory, so was the stage.

  I drank until the thoughts shifted to the back of my mind.

  I was a minute away from paying the bill and calling it a night when I saw Josie walk through the door. I instantly stood up, sending my chair scratching against the floor. She stood there and looked around, her hair down, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans that made my fingertips ache, remembering where they had been touching not that long ago.

  A smile climbed across my face as I thought how close we were to having sex, only to have her admit to me that it wasn’t her house. The entire thing was crazy, but crazy was a good thing to have in life.

  Josie finally spotted me.

  She smiled, and I felt like the world was going to be okay for a few minutes.

  Watching her walk toward me was hypnotic with the way her hips moved. She didn’t walk a certain way on purpose, it was just the way her beautiful figure was on its own. So casual yet seductive. The whiskey dripping through my brain, whispering all the things I wanted to do with her and to her.

  I hugged her when she was within reach and for some reason it felt like the wrong thing to do. We had only been out once before, and that was a short-lived night out for a drink before I walked out, and she walked away.

  Every moment we had together seemed to be filled with sparks and one look into her eyes to min
e provided that single drop of gasoline to ignite the entire thing.

  “You showed up,” I said as we sat down.

  “You didn’t think I would?” she asked.

  “Wasn’t sure if I’d get a call that you were in jail for breaking into someone’s house.”

  “Ah, see that would never happen because I can’t call you.”

  “Right,” I said. “We only communicate through runs and cigarettes.”

  “And stranger’s beds,” Josie added.

  Goddamn, I like you, Josie. I like the way you act, talk, think, and smile.

  I ordered another drink for myself, two for Josie, and a pizza.

  “How are you feeling after that run?” I asked.

  “Are you saying I’m out of shape?” she threw back without hesitation.

  I laughed.

  She was far from out of shape. And any curves her body provided were meant to be there and would never go away. And that was a damn good thing.

  “I’m just making small talk.”

  “So small talk me this… you write songs for famous people?”

  “Sometimes they’re famous,” I said. “Or they get famous.”

  “But you don’t write your own songs anymore.”

  “No.”

  Josie nodded.

  Our drinks arrived.

  She helped herself to a hearty drink that brought a grin across my face.

  “And you used to paint actual paintings,” I said. “But you don’t anymore.”

  “No,” she said.

  “And here we sit with the two biggest mysteries, waiting for someone to budge.”

  “Basically,” Josie said. “I hope the pizza is good at least.”

  “Oh, it’s the best. I’ve been coming here for a long time.”

  “So, the boy who grew up poor came to a nice area like this?”

  I leaned against the table. “Josie, across the street and down a block… it’s a shithole. That’s where I lived for a long time too. And I traveled a lot, just trying to figure out how to make it all work.”

  “Playing all the bars and such?” she asked.

  “Playing right here,” I said.

  “Here? This place?”

  “There used to be a stage over there,” I said with a nod. “And Billy had music connections. There was a rumor that his grandfather wrote a song for a really big name country star back in the sixties. A man who dressed in all black, if you know what I mean.”

  “No way,” Josie said.

  “Yeah. And if you played here and Billy liked you… it was a big deal.”

  “You played here?”

  “Five times.”

  “Wow. Why did he stop having music here?”

  “He died,” I said. “And his kids fought over what to do with the place. So, they sold it. New owner wanted nothing to do with music. Kept the name though to keep the business.”

  “So, you played here five times,” Josie said. “Is it safe to assume you sucked?” She smiled. “Because you didn’t get a deal?”

  She giggled, and it was too addictive to not laugh with her.

  “No,” I said. I watched her finish off the first whiskey. “I was really good. I was one big song away from doing something amazing.”

  “What happened then?” she asked.

  I cleared my throat and looked down at my glass. “It just didn’t work out. I froze up, I guess. That one song became the… well, here I am now.”

  “So, you never wrote the song?”

  “More like never finished it, love,” I said.

  “What about now?” Josie asked. “Why can’t you finish it now?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “The same reason you can’t have some kind of gallery show or whatever it is you painters look for.”

  “Painters?” she asked. “I prefer artists.”

  “Tell me your side of it now,” I said. “How does the mystery girl next door from me disappear back to her safe life and end up not being famous?”

  “You never saw anything I painted,” she said. “So, I could just be a terrible artist who hasn’t come to terms with it.”

  “Is that true?”

  “If I say it is, will you change the subject?”

  “Tell me this… are you happy with what you do now?”

  Josie thought for a few seconds. “I need another drink.”

  “That can be easily arranged.”

  She looked at me. “Yes and no.”

  “The cheap answer,” I said.

  “Okay, fine. Yes, I’m happy with what I do. I painted a mural at a restaurant that made the owners cry. I have a chance to paint a mural at a park that will make kids happy. However, is that what I want to do? Or be known for? No.”

  I slowly nodded.

  She raised her eyebrows for a quick second.

  I took note of it.

  I took note of everything about her.

  From her features to her reactions.

  I had a feeling Josie was going to be someone the whiskey wouldn’t wash away.

  “I want to see all these big and bad guitars,” Josie said as she clung to my arm.

  We ditched Billy’s after drinking a little too much and filling up on pizza. It was a nice enough night out that I didn’t mind the walk. And I certainly didn’t mind the company.

  “I can take you back to my place,” I said. “You might have to compromise with me about staying over though.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re a little drunk, love,” I said with a smile. “So am I. We can get your car in the morning. Unless, of course, you want to call for a ride. That I would love to see.”

  “You’re a jerk,” she said. “That would be… the ride of shame? Instead of walk of shame… I’d be sitting on your porch, waiting for my brother - of all people - to come get me. Oh god…”

  “Wait a second,” I said, and I cut in front of her. “The only way the shame part works is if we finished what we started before.”

  Josie’s cheeks turned red as she looked down, but I was quick to put my finger to her chin and keep that pretty gaze locked to mine.

  “You okay, love?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You’re the adventurous one, right? Tricking me into some stranger’s house.”

  “Your point?”

  I moved my fingers from her chin and made my move. I put Josie over my shoulder and started to jog.

  “Crosby!” she cried out.

  “I’m taking you, Josie,” I said. “I’m taking you as all mine.”

  I held her tight as she playfully punched and kicked. “You’re going to make me sick.”

  “Good,” I said.

  I ran with her over my shoulder down to the next corner.

  She screamed and laughed.

  Hell, even I was laughing.

  I came to a halt at the stop sign that meant more to me than anyone ever knew. I made the stop sign into some sense of meaning which it should never had.

  I put Josie back to her feet, her back against that stop sign.

  There was a little light from a streetlight behind me.

  She curled her lip and ran a hand through her hair.

  “You missed some,” I said.

  I touched the back of my middle finger to a chunk of hair she missed and tucked it behind her ear.

  “How far away do you live?” she asked.

  “Like ten miles,” I said. “Want to run?”

  “You’re such a jerk, Crosby.”

  “I told you to hate me. That’s the best thing you can do.”

  “Why? You want to be some tough guy? Everybody hates me. I’m going to be sexy and strong and pout like a little boy.”

  “So that’s my voice?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Sounds just like me.”

  “Exactly.”

  I slipped my hand into hers and started to walk again.

  My house was only another block away. On a street th
at everyone had seen plenty of times but never really knew what was down there because of the yellow Dead End sign at the end of it. Which was why I liked to live there.

  I opened the front door and realized what was happening. Whether it actually mattered or not, it was still Josie coming into my house.

  “And there are the guitars,” I said as I turned on the lights.

  From the outside it looked like a normal house.

  Inside was something different.

  The living room floor was wide open which made it easy to set up instruments if I wanted to jam out or whatever. And, of course, the dining room was my recording studio.

  “Wow,” Josie said with a breathless stare. “This is crazy.”

  “You wanted to see it,” I said.

  “So, you really just write music?”

  “Write, play, record, sell, whatever,” I said. “It’s my job.”

  Josie wandered through the dining room, looking at all the instruments and the recording equipment.

  I smiled, watching her appreciation for all of it.

  Her fingertips grazed the headstock of an acoustic that was untouchable. I refused to play that guitar. The only way I would touch it, was if the house was on fire and I needed to carry it out. Then again, I might just leave it inside to burn. That, and its memory.

  “Want something to drink, Josie?” I asked as I stepped into the kitchen.

  She looked back, moving her hair behind her ear. “Sure.”

  The options in my fridge were limited to water and beer. I had the hard stuff tucked away in a different cabinet. I figured if Josie had anything else heavy to drink, she’d end up in the bathroom or hugging a bucket all night.

  I grabbed two beers from the fridge and walked to the dining room.

  “So, what do you do with all of this?” she asked as she took one of the bottles from me.

  “I write songs,” I said. “I record them. Then I send them off to Jackie. He’s basically my manager. He works with executives and other managers and bands. He tries to sell the music and I just keep writing it.”

  “There are a lot of buttons here, Crosby.”

  I stepped up behind Josie, putting only a couple of inches between us. “You have to know which ones to touch at the right time.”

  Josie looked back at me. “Yeah, I bet.”

  I leaned down and kissed her. The sweetness of her lips with a touch of the cold beer. It was like a fucking dream.

  My left hand touching her curvy hip like we were magnets.