Lovestruck Summer (4 page)

50 pairings of shampoo and conditioner, not to mention three scents of body wash and six (six!) facial cleansers. If I approved of such excess, I’d really get into this. But I don’t. Well, at least not in theory. When I go downstairs to get dressed, I plug my iPod into the stereo. I almost put on the Walters, but I wonder if Russ can hear through the walls. I choose Seasick Pandas instead and turn up the volume. Their fast-paced guitar riffs put me in a dancing mood as I pull on my favorite pair of faded jeans and a free shirt that I got when I subscribed to NYLON magazine last year. It’s white with hot pink lettering, and I cut out the neckline a little bit and washed it a ton of times to make it stretchy and a little faded. I love free shirts. I sneak back upstairs to put some of Penny’s various volume-gel-hair-thickening- beach-texture gunk in my hair, which has faded to a pale greenish-blue hue and is growing out a little. When I try out some light mascara and a slash of dark red lipstick, I notice that Miss Tiara is in the bathroom with me, her head cocked sideways.

51 “What?”I ask her. “I may not be Party Penny’s style of hot, but I think I look good.”Miss Tiara barks her approval. Or disap- proval. Who can tell? Either way, I feel ready for tonight. I go downstairs and sit on my couch- bed, awaiting Jade. The hanging-around-to-be-picked-up time after getting ready to go out is always a buzz- kill. I grab some candy from my cousin’s over- fl owing jar in the kitchen and suck on a Sugar Daddy to keep my energy up. Finally, the doorbell rings. I leave a quick note for Penny telling her not to wait up, and I head into the night for my fi rst Austin music experience.

52 Chapter 6 At Dirty’s, the scene is all pool tables and neon beer signs, despite the fact that Friday night is eighteen and older, so everyone can enjoy the DJs. There’s a dartboard in the corner and a row of arcade games along one wall. When we get there, I immediately notice him despite all the lit-up distractions. Sebastian. It’s like a spotlight is shining on the DJ booth. “I see him!”I say to Jade excitedly. “That’s probably because there’s a spotlight on the DJ booth,”she says. Riiight. I silently acknowledge that I could possibly be a little overexcited here. “Introduce me!”I say. “Oh, I don’t know him,”she says. “I just thought he matched your description perfectly.”And he does. Black hair smoothed out into

Lovestruck Summer

53 a hipster cut that hangs in a wavy line around his face, almost covering his intense green eyes, which are framed by large oval glasses with a dark olive-colored edge. He looks like an album cover for a band I’d really like. Jade’s tugging my arm over to the DJ booth. But without her intro, how will I ever get up the nerve to—“I’m Jade. And this is Quinn.”I guess Jade has nerve enough for both of us. “Sebastian,”nods the DJ, barely looking up from his vinyl. He hasn’t started spinning yet—he’s laying out his selections for the night. I glance at the albums he has out—Remote Storage, Paper Prospect, Cakewalk, plus an old David Bowie single and some Cure songs mixed in. I think I’m in love. “What’s this band?”I ask, pointing to an Endless Rain album and looking up at his effort- lessly cool face. At this point, the only thing I’m confi dent enough to ask him about is music. “Dance tunes,”he says. “But dark.”“Like Depeche Mode?”I ask, liking how he keeps his sentences short. He looks at me then and grins, showing

54 crooked teeth that give him that just-off-enough- to-look-perfect smile. “Kind of,”he says. “Come talk to us when you get a break,”says Jade, tugging me away. “What are you doing?!”I ask when we get to a table and sit down. “Did you see him smil- ing at me?”“You have to leave him wanting more,”says Jade instructively. “Besides, he’s working and you’re not here to see him, you’re here to enjoy the music. Studied nonchalance is the key to catching an indie boy.”She’s good at this, I realize. While Jade and I talk about random things, I surreptitiously watch Sebastian’s shiny black hair move back and forth as he changes tracks from his booth. I appreciate the way his long, thin fi ngers carefully tuck each record into its cover after it spins, and I think how gentle those hands must be. I get a little shiver each time he does it. After an hour, the live band is getting ready to start, so Sebastian packs up his stuff. Please come over to us, please come over to us. I keep my face calm as I see his long stride, out of

55 the corner of my eye, heading for our table. “Hey,”he says, sitting down in a conve- niently empty third chair that we had discour- aged others from stealing during his set with “don’t touch it”glares. “Hey,”I say. “I’m thirsty,”says Jade-the-expert-wing- woman, getting up to go to the bar. “Be right back.”“You new in town?”asks Sebastian, turning his full attention on me. “Yeah,”I say. “I’m from North Carolina, but I’m here for the summer.”I want to tell him I’m working at Amalgam, but I also don’t want to be name-dropping right away. “Doesn’t your friend work for Amalgam?”he asks. Guess that takes care of that. “Yeah,”I say. “We met there—I’m an intern.”“Cool,”he says. “My favorite bands are on that label.”“Mine too,”I say. “The Walters.”“They are wild,”says Sebastian. “Those guys put on a show.”

56 “I know,”I say. “I’ve seen them seventeen times.”“Whoa!”He laughs. “You’re a superfan.”“Kind of,”I say, embarrassed. “It’s cool,”he says. “I am too. That’s why I spin—I just love getting into all those songs and fi guring out the mix that will set the per- fect mood for the band that’s playing after my set. Like tonight Inconceivable Hat is here, so I wanted to spin some old infl uences that I hear when they perform.”“That’s really smart,”I say, leaning on my elbow and watching Sebastian’s mouth move. He’s talking with his hands now that he’s explaining what he spins, and they look even softer up close. Jade comes back with her drink and breaks my reverie, but she’s careful to be low-key and let me and Sebastian do most of the back-and- forth. Talking with him turns out to be easy. We like a lot of the same bands, and he is complete physical perfection. Even his fl aws, like the way one of his front bottom teeth overlaps the other and how one strand of hair is slightly longer

57 than the rest on the left side of his head, make him somehow more attractive. When we leave around midnight, Sebastian writes his cell number in a matchbook, which strikes me as romantic and iconic and so much cooler and less presumptuous than actually pro- gramming it into my phone. I clench it in my hand as I get into Jade’s old Toyota and watch him speed away on a green Vespa. “How cool is he?”I ask rhetorically. “Told you so,”says Jade. I fall asleep that night dreaming of those vinyl-changing hands.

58 Chapter 7 I wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Penny’s humming. I go upstairs to shower away the mascara remains from last night. I usually kind of like that raccoon-eye look, but today I feel like being clean. I put on an old T-shirt that says ALLEN AND SONS BARBECUE and my jean shorts, which Penny was totally right about—I’m wearing them almost exclusively now because of the heat. Then I go downstairs and join my cousin in the kitchen, where she’s picking at a mixed berry bowl. “What’s up, Quinn?”she asks, feeding a strawberry to Miss Tiara, who sits on a barstool between us at the kitchen island. “Nothing,”I say, tucking my hair behind my ears. “What’d you do last night?”she asks.

59 “I just went out with a friend from work,”I say. “We saw a show.”“Fun!”says Penny. “Yeah, it was cool,”I say. I don’t want to tell her about Sebastian, because I can’t pic- ture them getting along. If I admit it to myself, I think I’d be embarrassed to let him meet her, in all her sorority-sister glory. “Sorry I’ve been MIA all week,”says Penny. “Planning Rush is a huge task, and I’m also trying to get a head start on a venue for Tri-Pi’s fi rst formal of the year, the Sweet September Swingfest.”“It’s okay,”I say, cringing internally at the name of the dance. “I can entertain myself.”“I know,”says Penny. “But I just feel bad that you don’t have a car and—”Ding-dong. Penny jumps up to get the door as Miss Tiara starts barking haughtily. I race to head them off. “I’ll get it,”I say. Russ is standing outside in the sun with a huge grin on his face. His curls are completely unruly today, I notice. “Ready?”he asks. “Ready,”I say. “See you later, Penny.”

60 Her mouth drops open, and so does Miss Tiara’s. “Russ is taking me to buy a car,”I explain. “I was just about to tell you. Bye!”I shut the door before Penny can say any- thing. It’s not a big deal. I really hate it when people act all like, Ooooh, about things. We’re not in fi rst grade. Outside, Russ opens up the passenger side door to a giant Ford truck that looks like it’s seen a few decades. “This one’s yours?”I ask. “You surprised?”asks Russ, taking my hand to help me step up into the cab. I swat him away. I can do this myself. “I’m actually not surprised,”I say. I should have known that this old rusty truck, among all the other normal cars in the lot, would belong to Russ. We drive through the main part of town by the Capitol building and then head out onto an empty stretch of road. I’m guessing they didn’t have AC in cars made in the 1950s or whenever this thing came from, so we have the windows rolled down, and the engine isn’t the quietest in the world. Despite all the noise and wind, the

61 fi elds around us look peaceful and still, and I lean back in the seat and stare over the hori- zon. It might be one of the only times in my life when there isn’t music playing, but I feel per- fectly content. After a few minutes, Russ slows down in front of a giant old barn surrounded by broken- down-looking cars. I’m sad the drive is over, to be honest, and also that the wind is no longer keeping me cool. The heat feels like a hot blan- ket clinging tightly to my body. I step down onto a dusty driveway, and Russ puts two fi ngers in his mouth to whistle. It is loud. “That’s a skill I never learned,”I say to him. “It’s handy,”he says, smiling down at me. “Here comes Albie.”“Y’all want a piña colada?”shouts the old man walking up to us. He’s wearing faded blue overalls and a T-shirt that may at one point have been white but is now covered in dust and rust. I’m into his look. “Nah,”says Russ, though a frosty drink sounds kind of good to me. “We’re trying to fi nd Quinn here a car.”

62 I look at Russ sideways. Did he just call me Quinn? He winks. “Hello, Quinn,”says Albie, holding out his hand. “Hey there,”I say, reaching out to shake. “Come sit,”he says. Russ and I follow him to a circle of tree stumps behind the barn, where we each take a seat. I look at Russ like, What’s going on? But he just smiles and nods, like this is all part of the process with Albie. “So, Quinn, tell me about yourself,”says Albie. I’m not sure what to say, so I start with something easy. “I’m really into music,”I say. “I came down here from North Carolina to intern at Amalgam Records and I love it so far.”Albie nods. “And how did you and Russ hook up?”he asks. “We didn’t hook up!”I say. Russ laughs at my reaction. “He means how’d we meet,”he says. I feel stupid for a minute, I guess I’m being

63 a little jumpy. Older people don’t say “hook up”that way. But I recover quickly. “My cousin Penny lives next door to Russ,”I say. “They’re friends and we met through her.”“And you came down here without a car?”asks Albie. “I thought the bus would be better,”I admit. “And Penny has a car, so—”“That the one with the shiny BMW?”Albie asks, looking at Russ. “Yup,”says Russ, and they both chuckle. “That your kind of ride?”Albie asks me. “A shiny BMW?”“No, sir,”I say. “I’d just like something that gets good gas mileage and is reliable. I was actu- ally considering a Vespa because I saw someone on one last night and thought that might be a good option.”Russ and Albie look at each other and start to howl with laughter. “A Vespa?!”says Russ. “I don’t even quite know what that is,”says Albie, wiping tears from his eyes. There sure seems to be a lot of cackling at my expense going on. I’m not convinced Albie’s

64 such a good car salesman. “Vespas are for tools,”says Russ. “Seriously, Priscilla.”Ooh, he makes me so mad with his “Priscilla”crap! “Well, just because you have a vintage truck doesn’t mean we all have to be driving around using completely irresponsible amounts of gas and creating noise pollution everywhere!”I shout, trying to shut Russ up. “I like my car,”he says slowly and fi rmly. I like it too, truth be told, but I’m not about to admit that in this moment. “Let’s not fi ght,”says Albie, putting his hands on his knees and hoisting himself off the stump. “Let’s look at some automobiles.”An hour and one test-drive down the dirt road later, I hand Albie four hundred dollars in cash for a 1993 Ford Festiva. It’s yellow and rusty, and the clutch sticks a little, but it’s exactly what I want. And it’s the fi rst car he showed me. “It looks like you,”Albie says. I’m not sure how to take that, but I’m thinking it’s a compliment. “You gonna be able to work that clutch all

65 the way to town?”asks Russ, climbing into his truck. “Watch me,”I say, taking off in front of him. It feels good to be in the driver’s seat. When we get back to the condo, I am fully exhilarated. The Festiva drives really well, and I feel in total control with a stick shift. At home, I inherited my mom’s old Honda, but this is a new experience: I just bought a car! I park it next to Penny’s BMW, and when I get out to admire it, I have to say that I think my little yellow beater looks much cooler than her sorority-mobile. I’m smiling when Russ pulls into the lot. I’m over being annoyed with him now that I have my new ride. “You’re a good driver,”he says, tipping his baseball hat at me. “Thanks,”I say. “Are you surprised?”“Not really,”he says, walking up to stand next to me and take another look at the Festiva. “So now I can go anywhere I want to,”I say.

66 “And where is it that you want to go?”Russ asks. “Nowhere particular,”I say. “I just mean to shows and stuff. I have to see a lot of music for my job.”At least, I hope I have to see a lot of music for my job. “Oh, right,”he says, laughing a little. “I guess that’s what you did last night.”I don’t say anything. I don’t have to tell him what I’m doing—he’s just the neighbor. I mean, it was nice of him to help me get a car, but he’s Penny’s friend, not mine. Russ walks around the side of the car and peers inside. “Classic!”He chuckles. “What?”I ask, ready to defend whatever he’s making fun of. “This thing has a tape player,”he says. “Yeah,”I say. “I noticed that. I was thinking I could buy one of those adapter thingies and plug in my iPod. They have those, right?”“Don’t do that,”says Russ, looking disap- pointed. “Have some sense of nostalgia. Listen to a tape.”“I don’t have any,”I say, and it’s true. I don’t