Rock 'n' Roll Baby

“Know that I’m always here for you.” She reaches out, grabbing my hand. She gives it a squeeze. It’s nice to have someone else besides Linc to lean on.

“Thanks.”

“Whatever you decide, you always have a job here.” She stands. “I also have a trailer on our land if you’re looking for somewhere to stay. I know your parents are assholes.”

“You have a trailer?”

“Yeah, the husband had it up north for when he went hunting but we sold the land so he moved it down here. Think about it. It’s nothing fancy but it’s there.”

“That’s really sweet of you.” My eyes sting with tears.

“I didn’t tell you that so you’d cry on me. I just wanted you to know you have options. A girl always needs options.”

“Thanks.” I sniffle back the tears.

“When you’re finished eating, have Brian walk you out. It’s dark out.” Brian pops up from out of the kitchen, having heard his name. He’s Minnie’s oldest son.

“Are you hungry again?” he asks me.

“Do I eat that much?” I grab my purse and milkshake. I drop my now empty cup into the trash.

“I feel like this question is a trap.” He puts his hands up in surrender, making me laugh more. Brian is a year younger than me and goes to the high school in Smithville, the next town over.

“I’m full, I promise.”

“I’d make you something.”

“I know you would. I just want my bed.” I let out a long sigh, fishing my keys out of my bag.

“You sure? We can hit a movie,” he offers. I think Brian is convinced I don’t have any friends. I guess I don’t really have any that live here anymore. I spent all my time with Linc and the boys.

“Nah.” He follows me out the back door to walk me to my car.

“All you do is work and schoolwork. You gotta have a little bit of fun.”

“Don’t you have a date or something? I know all those girls from Smithville High come in the diner hoping to see you.”

Brian runs a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed for a second. “Not interested in them.”

I stop when I get to my car, turning to look up at him. “You know I have a boyfriend.”

“I hear you’re pregnant too. I’m not going to tell anyone,” he rushes to say. He must have overheard me talking to his mom.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Thanks.” Now I feel worse. Two other people know before Linc.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out. “Now you know a secret about me and you can hang out with me without thinking I’m trying to get into your maternity pants.”

I smack his arm. “I’m not in maternity pants yet.”

“Yeah, but it made you laugh.”

“Okay, let’s go see a movie,” I agree. There have been so many changes in my life recently that a little fun sounds like the exact thing I need to clear my mind. I want to eat popcorn and watch a movie with my new friend. One that seems to need someone in his life as much as I do. I can worry about real life again tomorrow.

Chapter Seventeen

Linc

Writing music isn’t just sitting down in front of a mixer or being in a room together riffing off of each other. Sometimes, it’s listening to a beat laid down by Nick over and over in your ears until it sparks a melody while you’re sitting at the beach while your track man–the drummer–tries to learn how to surf and your bassist is flirting with a couple of Malibu beach bunnies who have more interest in the paint on their toes.

“We’ve got a gig on Friday,” Benjy is telling them. “You should come.”

There’s some indistinct murmuring that I try to shut out by turning the volume up on my phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Benjy pull his phone out. He starts to tilt it toward the girls, probably to show them where it is or what time it is but he drops his phone.

A chuckle escapes and I shake my head. Poor Benjy, trying to be cool for these girls and ending up fumbling with his phone. It takes him a couple more efforts to pick it up, but when he does, he doesn’t return to the girls. Instead, he starts to look toward me and then, as if an invisible thread is attached to the side of his face, he jerks around to face the ocean. Nick washes up on shore and Benjy runs down to meet him, abandoning the girls altogether.

It’s odd, but I’m supposed to be writing music, not crafting a beach drama. I reapply myself to the track. Blue like the … sea? No, that’s too ordinary. So are blue eyes. How many songs mention blue eyes? A thousand of them. Blue lungs? Blue heart? Blue toes? How did I ever think I was a songwriter? Maybe what I need to do is go for a swim. I throw down my pen and get to my feet. My shirt joins my pen. Before I can get to the water, Benjy and Nick are in front of me wearing serious faces.