I gave him the “What the fuck?” look he deserved. “Are you serious?”
“And pineapple.”
“You know, I think this may have been a mistake,” I deadpanned.
Justin marched back to the foyer and picked up his guitar case. I was half afraid he was really going to leave when he barked a quick laugh and gave me a Cheshire cat grin. “Pepperoni is perfect. Are you ready to do this?”
“I am.”
Two hours later, we sat across from each other in the studio, playing with harmonies and ideas. But mostly, we talked. Not necessarily about anything relevant. He asked me about the lights in the pool, if I used the Jacuzzi often, and if I knew my neighbors. We stopped to eat pizza and chatted more about topics ranging from Harry Potter books to a Jimi Hendrix documentary he’d watched recently. Then we pushed the pizza box aside, grabbed our guitars, and got back to it. As much as I looked forward to spending time with Justin, I had low expectations about collaborating with a newbie. However, I was impressed. Justin could fashion lyrics out of a hint of a melody. He was a quick-witted wordsmith whose biggest weakness was the guitar. He skipped chords regularly and became easily frustrated when it slowed him down.
“I suck,” he griped, pulling the strap over his head and setting his instrument on a nearby stand. “I should stick to pouring beer.”
“Only for now. You’re gifted…and don’t argue with me. I know stuff.” When the urge to gush became strong, I cleared my throat and looked away for a moment. “I was surprised you didn’t have to work.”
“I asked for the night off at Vibes. My boss kinda hates me, so it didn’t go over well, but he’d hate me if I showed up too,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Why does he hate you?”
“ ’Cause he and Tegan are sort of together and Sean hates knowing that anything happened with Tegan and me. He’s a possessive motherfucker. He’s not in love with T. He just wants to own him. And that’s a good example of why I don’t understand the concept of ‘love.’ It seems like there’s a fine line between love and lust and the desire to possess and control. That’s fucked, if you ask me.”
“It is fucked,” I agreed.
“I’ve never been in love. Have you?”
“Once. Years ago,” I said vaguely.
He cocked his head as though waiting for me to continue. When I didn’t, he shrugged. “Hmph. I didn’t love Xena. I’m not sure I ever really loved any of my girlfriends. We were friends or just lovers, but not both. That’s the problem with this love song stuff. How do you draw experience from real life when you’ve never experienced it?”
“You take any strong feelings you’ve had and work through them in words. I’ve written plenty of love songs while I’ve been single. It’s a matter of being in the right mindset. I wrote ‘Midnight Love’ after my divorce. Do you know that one?” I hummed, then sang the first line, “Your sweet smile in the moonlight…”
“I like that song. You wrote that?” he asked with a dopey grin.
I nodded. “I did. And at that point, I hadn’t been in love in years.”
“So you faked it?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I just…drew from other experiences and when that didn’t help, I did some research. I watched old romantic comedies, read sonnets and poetry, and I observed.”
Justin raised his eyebrows. “I see. The old creepy voyeur technique. I’ve never tried it.”
“Everyone people-watches.”
“Not me,” he singsonged.
“Bullshit. I have an idea. We’ll do it together. That’ll be a good way to get started and put words down to some of the melodies we’ve worked on tonight.”
“O-kay…where does one go to people-watch lovers?”
“Places you’d go on a date. Movies, dinner, the park, the beach, the mall.”
“Seriously?” he gaped incredulously. “If you were gonna ask someone out, you’d take them to the mall? Dude. Even I know that’s lame.”
“Okay, but I’m not writing about only things I like. I want to write in a language everyone understands. Get it?”
“But the mall?”
I sighed in mock defeat. “Pretend you just landed a hot date with the guy or girl of your dreams. Where are you gonna go?”
“Somewhere free. I’m on a tight budget.”
“The mall is free.”
“And boring,” he countered. “And what’s the point of going someplace where you can’t afford anything?”
“You can window shop,” I suggested cheerily.
He held my gaze until I laughed. Then he shook his head and lifted his water bottle to his lips to hide a smile like he thought I was kind of a dork and didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Fuck, he was cute. Well, mostly hot…but cute too.
“What about you?” he asked. “Where would you take a hot date?”
“Dinner, movies…”
Justin slumped in his chair, closed his eyes and fake-snored before sputtering awake. “Remind me never to go out with you.”