Amplified (12 page)

“Since when?”

“It’s easy with you. You’ve got an attitude.”

“Oh,
I
do?”

His upper lip twitched. “I never said I didn’t.”

I bit back a smirk of my own. “So, now that I’ve saved you…how about cutting me a break on those storage fees?”

He tilted his face toward the sky, chuckling. “Nice try.”

A squeal echoed from the studio, making us both jerk our heads toward the door.

“They’re probably going to come out soon,” I said.

“Are you hungry?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t, but I needed a distraction—even if that involved making ramen with Sean.

“Then let’s get some dinner. I’ll buy.”

“Uh…” Was he asking me out? No, of course not. That would be insane. Maybe he was being sarcastic.

“We’d just be getting food—I promise. We’re not getting deployed to the Middle East or anything.”

“What?”

“You’ve got that deer-in-headlights look again.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” Warmth swelled in my cheeks. What was it about this guy that put me in moron mode?

He studied my face, his smile growing. “So, are you coming?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Oh, only a million reasons, like the fact that we couldn’t stand each other. But a little curiosity trumped common sense.

Sean’s Camaro smelled like worn leather and the forest. One of those little air-freshener trees hung from his mirror.

He cracked the windows as we drove down West Cliff, letting the sea breeze comb our hair. I tapped my foot and tried to think of something interesting to say. All I could focus on was the growl of the engine and the way his fingers hovered over the gearshift. Maybe he was itching to go faster.

“What are you in the mood for?” He kept his eyes straight ahead and drummed the steering wheel to the harsh beat churning from his speakers.

“Anything edible. I’m not that picky.”

“Do you like sushi?”

Leave it to Sean to pick the one thing I never wanted to try. “I don’t consider raw fish edible.”

“They’ve got veggie sushi.”

“Didn’t know there was such a thing.”

He did a double take. “Did you grow up in a cave?”

“Close enough.” Dad always had a specific list of what the nannies and housekeepers were allowed to cook. It was basically the American Heart Association diet, without an ounce of creativity or culture.

“We can go somewhere else if you want.” His arm brushed my thigh as he shifted. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I scooted closer to the door. “Sushi’s fine.”

This pleased him enough to turn up the music and not say a word until we got to the restaurant. And then he only spoke to the hostess, who seemed to know him. She studied me curiously, but Sean didn’t bother introducing us. Nice.

The restaurant was small but cozy. Paintings of surfboards, fish, and oceanic sunsets made it look more like a surf shop than a sushi place.

I scanned the list of foreign items on the menu. The rolls had cutesy names and baffling ingredients I couldn’t pronounce. None of it sounded appetizing.

“Sorry I didn’t introduce you back there,” Sean said. “She’s a nosy friend of Amy’s. I thought she was off tonight.”

I shut the menu, my stomach tightening. “You should at least tell her who I am.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m a girl…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Congratulations.”

“I mean, what if she thinks that you’re—we’re on a date or something.”

He scanned the menu with a small grin. “Or something.”

“Because from an outside perspective, it might look like we’re on one.”
Shut up, Jasmine. Don’t dig yourself a hole.
“And you probably don’t want her to think that. She might tell Amy.”

Sean looked up, crinkling his brow. “Or we could just be hanging out.”

I plopped the cloth napkin in my lap, wishing I could drape it over my head. “So, um, what’s good here?”

His confused expression remained. “Why do you care about Amy?”

“I think there’s been enough drama already, don’t you?”

“Get used to it. My sister is the biggest drama queen I know.”

“She was just trying to look out for you, I think.”

He leaned back in his chair. “She doesn’t give me enough credit. I know Amy better than she does.”

“Don’t be so sure.” My dad certainly learned the hard way, and he never got over it.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

I took a long sip of water, savoring the coolness on my throat. Sean was the last person I wanted to share my life story with. “Sometimes you only see what you want to—and then the truth breaks you. It’s better to expect the unexpected.”

His eyes lingered on mine. “Are we still talking about me and Amy?”

I looked away. “I’m speaking in general.”

“Right,” he said softly, turning his attention to the menu. “I don’t know why I’m looking at this. I always order the same thing.”

I shrugged. “I do that too.”

His lips curved up into another one of those subtle smiles. They were starting to grow on me. “I usually get the Pacific Fire rolls. Best thing on the menu—if you can handle spicy.”

“I think I can manage.”

He squinted at me. “We’ll see.”

Unfortunately, I lost that challenge after the first bite had me flailing for my glass of water.

He pushed the avocado-and-cucumber rolls toward me. “Those will go down a little easier.”

“I’m fine,” I squeaked. It hurt to inhale.

“Your little tough act doesn’t work on me.” He plopped another spicy roll in his mouth like it was nothing.

“You could’ve warned me about the green stuff.”

He swallowed and laughed. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Yeah, and it looks really good on your chin too.”

His hand quickly swiped under his mouth. “Did I get it?”

I dabbed my finger in the wasabi and reached over the table. “It’s right…here.” I spread a little green paste below his lower lip.

“Real slick, Jasmine.” He wrinkled his nose and wiped it away with his napkin. “Damn, that burns.”

“Wuss.”

“Says the princess.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

A playful gleam hit his eyes. “Hey, if the shoe fits…”

I attempted to give him my best evil look but ended up laughing about two seconds in. We were actually having a good time. Me and Sean. How was that possible? Maybe someone spiked the water.

Tonight was the night.
In just a few hours I’d be onstage, proving myself to an audience of strangers. But more important, I’d be showing the band that they’d made the right choice. I wanted to make them proud to call me the new guitarist of C-Side.

But I was falling apart.

I stood on the balcony, watching the sky turn into rainbow sherbet, when a scruffy black van pulled into the driveway and Sean eased his Camaro next to the curb. Bryn’s uncle let the band borrow the van for gigs—if they could get it started. Apparently, Sean had worked his magic.

Bryn and Veta hopped out of the van and opened the rear doors before heading toward the studio. Sean jogged after them. They weren’t wasting any time.

I called Jason with a shaky hand, wishing he could be that one friendly face in the crowd. It didn’t seem right to do my first show without him.

“Are you freaking out?” he answered. He’d told me to call him beforehand if I really panicked.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I need to tell them I—”

“Yes, you can. Even if you mess up, you can come up with impromptu stuff. It’s what you’re best at.”

I paced back and forth, trying to breathe. “Not with an audience watching me.”

“Picture them naked.”

“I’ll be the one feeling naked.”

“Okay, then pretend your whole band is naked.”

I crinkled my nose. “No!”

“How about just the bassist?”

“Would you stop bringing him up?”

“Sure. When you do.” I could
hear
the Cheshire grin on Jason’s face.

“Um, when was the last time?”

“Yesterday. You were, like—God, he’s going to start charging me storage fees on Monday. He’s such a jerk. But, oh—he made the best salsa ever. It was sooo good. I nearly had an orgasm eating it.”

A laugh escaped my lips. “Shut up! I just said I liked it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Whatever, it’s not like that.”

“Like what?” Jason put on his innocent voice.

Sean walked back out, carrying his amp. I put my hand over my face. “I hate you.”

“There’s the feisty bitch I know and love. Feel better?”

“A little.”

Bryn appeared with his bass drum, tilting his head up at me. “Get down here, Jasmine! And drag Felix out of the bathroom on your way out.”

I groaned into the phone. “I have to get going.”

“Once you get lost in the music, you’ll rock it. I know you will. Call me after, ’kay?”

“I will—if I’m still in one piece.”

“Oh, and one more thing…” His voice got playful again.

“What?”

“Take a pic of the bassist with your phone cam and send it to me. I’m dying to see this guy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Talk to you later.”

“Good luck!”

As soon as I hung up, the nausea came back. A second-grade talent show I’d participated in came to mind. I thought it would be a fun idea to sing “Cornflake Girl” by Tori Amos. Only it turned out I didn’t know the lyrics as well as I thought I did. And I hadn’t quite learned the concept of projection. The teacher ended up asking me if I wanted to lip sync.

Let’s just say “Cornflake Girl” remained my nickname throughout the course of my elementary school career—and nobody meant it as a compliment.

I knocked on the bathroom door, and Felix answered in nothing but a blue towel. A very small blue towel. And as adorable as Felix was, I preferred him with clothes on.

“Um, they’re loading the van. Bryn wants you to come down.”

“Already? Christ, he’s so type A.” He studied me for a second. “Can I do your hair for the show?”

I hated when people messed with my hair, but I didn’t want to seem rude. “Like, how? What would you do?”

Footsteps bounded up the stairs and Bryn appeared in the loft, slightly out of breath. He scrunched up his face at Felix. “Dude, close the door. Nobody wants to see that.”

Felix brushed his blue ’fro, like he wasn’t even bothered. “At least I have a towel on. Can’t say you’ve given us the same courtesy.”

Bryn shook his head. “That’s what happens when you open my door without knocking.”

I’d heard about enough of this. “I’m going downstairs.”

After the van was finally loaded, the five of us sat on the front lawn, letting the ocean breeze cool our damp skin. The guys and I devoured two pizzas, while Veta slurped spaghetti. Singing and cheese didn’t mix, apparently.

Veta and Felix debated what to wear.

“Whatever you decide, make the getting-ready part quick,” Bryn said, tossing the crust of his fifth slice. “We should be there before nine.”

“Then we better get started on Jasmine,” Veta said, grinning at me.

“I’m fine like this.” I motioned to my gray fairy tee and worn jeans.

Bryn crinkled his brow. “Are you kidding?”

“Um, no.”

“Borrow one of Veta’s schoolgirl skirts,” he said. “That’d be hot.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not the same size.”

“It’s okay,” Veta said. “I brought something special for Goldilocks. It’s simple and tasteful—but sassy. Like her.” She winked at me.

I stared down at my half-eaten slice of veggie pizza. My appetite was quickly diminishing. “I’d like to wear my own clothes.”

“Babe, I’m not letting you go onstage dressed like Zoe,” Veta said. “In fact, I think she owns that shirt.”

Felix and Bryn chuckled.

“Let her wear what she wants,” Sean said. “It’s not a big deal.”

I gave him a grateful smile.

“Actually, it is,” Bryn said. “People dug Teddy. They’re pretty skeptical about you, Jasmine. No offense.”

My heart was starting to pound. “What are you getting at?”

“Like it or not,” he continued, “people expect a certain something from us. You’ve already changed up our sound—which, hey, it works. Most of the time. But Teddy could dance circles around you in the performance area. It wouldn’t hurt to wear something a little darker—sexier. Look like you’re, you know, part of the band.”

“Bryn…” Veta’s voice sounded like a warning.

“When did we become sellouts?” Sean asked.

Bryn shrugged. “Hey, we need to keep the fans who
didn’t
ditch us when you guys kicked Teddy out. It’s a shitty reality, but it’s reality all the same.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You want me to dress like a piece of ass so people will forgive me for not being Teddy?”

Bryn sneered. “No. When the hell did I say that? I want people to see you and go, ‘Check out their new guitarist—she’s pretty badass.’ Not, ‘What’s up with their new guitarist? Is she twelve?’”

I swallowed the ache in my throat. He’d take Teddy back in a heartbeat if he could. “You were the one who made fun of me to Dave, weren’t you? What was it you called me—a band geek doing her first talent show?”

“You said that?” Felix asked, his dark eyes wide.

“We were joking around,” Bryn answered, looking away. “It didn’t mean anything…”

“How can you—,” I began.

Bryn stood, holding his hands up. “Jasmine, I’m sorry I offended you. I really am. You can slug me later. But we don’t have time for this bullshit right now. Let’s just get ready.” He walked off, taking the pepperoni pizza box with him.

“He always has his panties in a bunch before shows,” Veta said, putting her hand over mine. “Try not to take it too personally.”

“What’s his excuse the other ninety-five percent of the time?” I asked.

Nobody had an answer.

I let Veta and Felix attack me. They promised not to make me look slutty, and I didn’t want to disappoint them. Especially when there was a good chance I’d blow tonight.

Now I was riding shotgun in Sean’s Camaro, not feeling at all like myself. Veta meant well. She brought a wine-colored babydoll dress—one of the first she’d made. It was intended for her mom, but it never fit right. The dress had a black lace hem that fell above my knees, puff sleeves, and a not-too-low-cut neckline. Adorable, really. On someone else.

I also managed to stuff my feet into a pair of her mom’s old knee-high boots. They were a half size too small, but Veta said they’d stretch. Right.

Then there was my hair. Felix curled it into golden ringlets that fell down my back. Which would be cute…on a doll. And my makeup. Veta called it cat eyes, but don’t get me started on that.

Felix sat in the back seat, fretting over whether his crush, Samantha, would be at the show. Sean and I would just nod or tell him not to worry when we could get a word in.

“I still can’t believe she kissed Rick the Dick. I hate that guy,” Felix said. He yanked on a lock of my hair. “Doesn’t Jasmine look gorgeous?”

Sean gave me a sidelong glance, a smile flickering at his lips. “She looks like a goth Goldilocks.”

I rolled my eyes. “My thoughts exactly.”

We stopped at a red light, and Sean’s fingertips brushed my forearm. “Don’t worry. You look cute.”

Heat crawled up my neck and into my face. I was glad my hair hid most of it. “Thanks—so do you.” That sounded kind of flirty. “I mean, I like your hat. It’s very cute…nice.”

He laughed and shifted into first. “Okay, thanks?”

Sean looked downright sexy in a gray fedora and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I liked the simplicity. His appearance wasn’t screaming for attention or trying to mask anything. He was just himself…with a little flair.

Another light turned red ahead of us, and Bryn drove the black van right through it. He looked like he was going about fifty down Mission, a street populated with old houses, small businesses, and restaurants. It was part of Highway 1, the scenic route that snaked along the California coast.

Felix chuckled. “I bet Veta is ripping him a new one right now.”

“What’s his problem?” I asked. “We’re not late.”

“Everything involving the band is life or death for him,” Sean said.

“C-Side is his life,” Felix chimed in. “Well, that and surfing.” He scooted forward and leaned toward my ear. “Which he kinda sucks at.”

“He doesn’t go to school or anything?”

“He’s enrolled at UCSC,” Sean said. “But he doesn’t necessarily go.”

“I know he comes off as superharsh, but he doesn’t hate you or anything,” Felix said. “He’s just got no filter. If you met his uncle, you’d understand.”

“Did his uncle raise him or something?”

“His uncle took custody of him and his little brother, because his mom…” Felix lowered his voice as if Bryn could somehow hear him. “She’s kind of a druggie.”

“Felix…” Sean glared at him in the mirror.

I nodded, not knowing how to respond. It wasn’t easy having a parent who people like Felix whispered about in hushed voices.

“Anyway, his uncle is worth millions—he was some hotshot back in the dot-com days,” Felix rambled on. “He’s pretty much like a big kid, though. Buys them lots of stuff, but he doesn’t really do the dad thing.”

“What are your parents like?” I asked, turning to face Felix. “Do they live around here?”

A sheepish grin crossed his pale face. He’d done himself up like a geisha tonight, red and black smudged around his eyes and butterfly clips in his hair. “They live in Placerville—that’s where I grew up. It’s this old gold rush town on the way to Lake Tahoe.”

“Old Hangtown.” I grinned. “I’m familiar.”

“Ha—yeah, that
never
gets old. Anyway, Dad is cool—pretty mellow. But my mom is superconservative and a huge control freak. It’s so annoying.”

“Have you noticed that Felix spends half the day on his cell?” Sean asked.

“Yeah.”

“It’s his mom—she calls him about forty times a day.”

Felix punched the back of Sean’s seat. “She does not!”

We pulled behind a gray building that looked like it should’ve been condemned. The back featured graffiti-drawn stick figures and a broken window. Veta and Bryn were already unloading the van.

“This is the Roach?” I asked.

Sean turned off the ignition. “What’d you expect—the Ritz?”

“Well, no but—”

“Ooh! Open the door!” Felix shoved my seat forward and squeezed out of the car, mumbling an apology. He ran up to a short blond girl who was smoking near the back entrance.

“That would be Samantha,” Sean said.

“Ah.” I scanned the few people standing around. Dark clothing and bold hair. Tattooed hands bringing cigarettes to pierced lips. A couple of them looked older. A lot older.

Nothing I could do would impress these people. They’d see me just like the band saw me—a privileged little girl with no scars to show. A high school band geek.

“Hey.” Sean touched my shoulder. “You okay?”

I forced a smile. “Fine.”

His eyes reminded me of his sister’s right then, that forklifting-information-from-my-head look. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s just my first show. With you guys, I mean. New crowd.”

“Don’t worry about Bryn, okay? It’s not you he’s pissed at.”

I looked down at my clasped hands. “He wanted Dave, didn’t he?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re the person we decided on.”

I thought I could do this. I really did. But my chest was getting tighter by the second. “We should help them unload.” I climbed out and didn’t look back.

We joined the crowd to watch Newton’s Whore perform after assembling our equipment backstage. Boots and worn sneakers took up almost every inch of the sticky black floor, and Rob Zombie’s “Superbeast” growled from the speakers. The air reeked of sweat, booze, and sly drags of cigarettes and pipes. I caught myself holding my breath.

Bryn and Veta charmed a group of pancake-faced girls in front of me. Their makeup glowed under the blue lights. Felix huddled over Samantha, whispering in her ear. They both giggled a lot.

“Hey, deer in headlights,” Sean said, his warm breath tickling my neck.

I shook my head. “You guys and your nicknames.”

His lips stretched into a small grin, and he leaned toward me again. “It’s a family thing. We can’t help ourselves.”

A guy with a bleached Mohawk squeezed between us, his elbow catching me in the ribs.

“Watch it,” Sean said.

The guy turned, a cruel smile on his broad face. “Or what, Ramirez? You gonna cry to the bouncer and have me kicked out?” He laughed and shoved his way to the front.