Indigo Blues (13 page)

Long pause.

"Indigo?" Too long.

"Of course. That's fine. So, how was the game today?"

He takes a deep breath. "Man, Abingdale rode our asses.
It was close. We won 21 to 20. A missed point. My back is
killing me right now."

I've never seen Tripp without a shirt, but I imagine
him to be ripped. "You totally need a massage." Full body.

"You offering?" His voice is elevated. He sounds excited.

I lie back down on my bed and prop Fred up on the
pillow next to me. "Yeah, I could give you a good workup." So what if the only massages I ever give are to my
mom while she watches TV.

"Yeah, I could give you a good work-up." I hear my
words repeated back to me in the most annoying voice on
the planet.

I quickly sit up and turn toward the door. "Eli, ever
heard of knocking?"

"The door was open."

"Not the point!" I growl at him. Ohh, Tripp. "Sorry,
that was my brother."

"Figured. Anyway, I got to run. Mom made me some
grub."

I shoot balls of fire at Eli with my eyes. "Okay, yeah.
I'm going to tackle my English paper now."

Homework on Friday night yeah, I'm cool.

"See you tomorrow," Tripp says.

"Totally."

"Totally," Eli repeats. I hang up with Tripp and chuck
Fred at Eli. Big mistake. He scoops Fred up and says, "Oh,
Tripp, I love you." And makes this God-awful kissing sound.
MWAH.

"How do you know I was even talking to Tripp?" I
sneer.

"Well, I didn't think you were talking to Grandma.
Maybe Cat though." He grins.

"Ha, ha. Don't you have anything else to do but make
my life miserable?"

He tilts his head. "Nope. I'm cool with that."

"Get out!" I scream.

"Chill." He takes a few steps backwards, toward the
door. "But seriously, how well do you know Tripp?"

"None of your business." I get up and grab Fred from
Eli before he's taken hostage. Besides, my answer is pretty
pathetic. It's taken me almost a month to get Tripp to ask
me out. I hope it doesn't take a month before I get to see his
ripped chest. "If you must know, we're going out tomorrow
night."

"Does Adam know?"

"Why should he?"

Eli shrugs. "Didn't know if you guys talk about that
stuff. "

"More like we don't talk."

"Adam's a nice guy. Thought you might want to give
him a second chance."

"Are you on crack? He wrote a song about what a bitch
I am. And I should give him a second chance? Puhleese." I
know my face is all red. Nothing new these days.

"Don't have a hissy. He was just going through a rough
patch."

"A rough patch? Since when did you become a shrink?
Why don't you try dating Adam?"

Eli pulls out his little notepad and reads from it. "Okay,
but if you could say anything to Adam about this whole
experience, what would you say?"

"I'm sick of this crap!" I slam the door in his face
before I can wring his neck, which by the way, is getting
harder and harder to do these days because we are now the
same height and I fear he will surpass me pretty soon.

But seriously, whose side is Eli on?

'm the first one to the studio, with copies of "Sugar Rush"
stuffed in my backpack and my guitar in tow. Okay, so
that's nothing new, but today I have a renewed sense of purpose. I actually feel good about this. I'm running on four
hours of sleep, but the deprivation has not kicked in yet.

Mike, the sound guy, is checking the equipment. He
gives me a high five. "Whassup, dude?"

"Not much. Ready to roll."

"Good. I'm almost done in here and Gina's on a breakfast run."

Food does sound good right about now I take the copies of "Sugar Rush" out of my backpack and flop down onto
the couch. I read it over to make sure it actually makes sense
the day after. I pull out my guitar, too, and fiddle around with a couple of chords. The song needs to end with a bang.
Maybe Zach can come up with something. He's good with
finales.

"Sounding good, bro." Tommy clomps into the room
in a new pair of Timberlands.

"Nice kicks." Money burns a hole in his pocket. If
there's anything left over after he pays bills, it goes right
into his shoe fund.

"Thanks. Just got them. Is that the new tune?"

"Yeah, I was working out the last few chords."

"Cool." He nods and goes to check out his bass.

The door flings open again. "Who's hungry?" Gina asks.

We join everyone in the entrance where she's laid the
food out on the table. Zach's already scarfing down a muffin. No food in the studio, so it's now or wait until break
time.

"Got song?" Jack asks as he slurps down a chocolate
milk. He rubs the tip of the bottle against the top of his
mouth so that he has a mustache. That boy's sense of humor
is so messed up.

Everyone keeps looking at me like I have the key to the
universe in my pocket.

"Right here, man." I pat the papers, rolled up like a
scroll and sticking out of the pocket of my cargo pants.

All this anticipation is killing me. It's do or die, baby!
I toss the other half of my muffin into the trash. "Okay,
let's get going." I head inside the studio before anyone can
object. And of course they all follow me because they've
been waiting for this moment, too. "Indigo Blues" is hot, but we need to get back in the studio before we end up a
one-hit-wonder band.

The guys all pull up folding chairs and circle around
me, Tommy still chewing. Jack and Zach play-punch each
other. I swear, they never take anything seriously.

I stare at them. No one's even taking notice. Gina's in
the back corner talking to Mike.

"Punks, listen up." I wave the papers in the air. "Unless
you've got something else in mind to do today?"

Jack elbows Zach in the gut. Zach fakes injury. "Ah,
fuck."

I eye him.

"You're not going to flick a booger on me? Are you?"
He laughs.

"Thinking about it."

He gets the picture and says, "Drum roll please. Get
ready for the amazing Adam Spade, master lyricist."

I hand out the lyrics, then pick up my guitar. I strum a
few chords and hum some notes to tune up. When I finally
look up, everyone is silent. All eyes are on the pages in front
of them. I glance at my watch, pop in a Certs, and they're
still reading. The silence is killing me. I have to know what
they think. If I can't get this song by these guys, then it's
never going to see the light of day.

I grind the Certs down to smithereens. "You can't all
be slow readers. What's the verdict?"

Zach is the first to lift his head. "Dude, this is good
crap.

"Crap?" My mouth drops.

"You know what I mean."

"Me likee," Conjunction Jack says.

"Mmm." Tommy rubs his stomach.

Some days I wonder how I'm still friends with these
guys.

I take a deep breath and Gina scurries over to me. "I
think what the wordsmiths over here are trying to say is ...
they love it!"

"Seriously, this is great cr ... er ... stuff." Tommy stands
up. "I'm still wondering how you came up with this so
quick."

"Doesn't feel quick to me. I hardly slept for three days."

"This is totally worthy of a case of beer," Tommy says.

I love how everything gets measured in units of beer.

"Okay, let's give her a listen." I pick up my guitar.

"Sugar Rush, it's like speeding through traffic on a hot
summer's day. "

We go back and forth, changing a few chords and
working on the melody. After an hour of playing around,
the jam session is in full swing. We're all tinkering with our
instruments, trying to get the best out of every note. This
is why I love these guys-because we make good music
together. We all share the passion to musicate people. It's
both scary and cool to think that we actually have listeners.
That people out there are waiting for our next song.

We work on the chorus first.

Jack's a madman with the drums, trying to find the
perfect beat.

"Hold it right there!" Zach screams. "That sounded
fresh."

We all stop playing and turn our attention to Jack. He
does his thing. Watching him with a pair of drumsticks
is mesmerizing. Those are his chopsticks, feeding his soul.
We circle around the room and everyone does a little soul
feeding-Zach and me on guitar and vocals and Tommy
on bass. Gina's in and out, mostly giving us the thumbsup, probably knowing it's best to stay out of our way. Mike
chimes in now and again about levels and sound.

Besides occasional bathroom breaks, no one wants to
leave the room. Positive energy permeates the studio like
cool air on a hot summer's day. I'm back with a vengeance.
This song is for everyone who has ever needed a pick-meup.

Finally the studio lights flicker on and off. That's Gina
giving us a ten-minute warning. The next band will be here
soon for their scheduled recording time. My hair is plastered
to my head. Same for Jack. Tommy has a towel around his
neck, and for some reason Zach is shirtless.

By the time we're done, I realize that "Sugar Rush"
belongs to all of us. Everyone has put a bit of themselves
into making the arrangement happen.

We're not even done packing up when Zach says, "So
you guys wanna grab a brew?"

"Oh yeah." I beam and the others nod in agreement.
And then some...

ripp will be here in less than an hour and the contents
of my closet are strewn all over the carpet. I should've
gone to the mall to pick something up because suddenly
my clothes feel worthy only of a garage sale.