Starting From the Top (Starting from 5)

I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

“We’re here to rock, Char. We don’t care about the water.” I ruffled Charlie’s curly hair, then quickly introduced Parker to Justin, Ky, Bobby J, and Tegan.

“We’ve met,” Tegan said, offering Parker a high five. “So you’ve decided to take up guitar, huh? Johnny should be a good teacher.”

“I’d be better,” Bobby J boasted, draping his arm over my shoulders before narrowly sidestepping my gut punch with a laugh. “I’m kidding. He’s the best. Our studio is clear if you want to work next door. The guys are long gone.”

“Dec’s waiting for you in the lobby, T. Bye, Parker.” Bianca waved and disappeared into the hall.

“You don’t have to go anywhere. We’re finished now anyway. Later, Johnny. See ya, Parker.” Justin pinched my ass on his way to the door with Ky and Tegan.

Charlie hung back for a moment. “Can I have a moment, Johnny?”

“Sure.” I motioned toward the sofa and told Parker to get his guitar out, then joined Charlie in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Sean’s son?” he inquired, glancing over my shoulder. When I nodded, he fixed me with a sharp once-over. “When did you become a tutor?”

“You mean instructor. I used to teach all the time for extra money. I’m actually pretty good at it.”

“No doubt. But why now?”

I shrugged. “Sean asked, and it seemed like a good way to stay out of trouble while we’re in slow mode. Is it a problem?”

“Of course not.” He inhaled deeply and pointed at the mess of water bottles on the floor. “I’ll ask Bianca to send someone to clean up. I have a conference call now, but I’d hoped to have a minute with you to discuss your date with Clay. You’re meeting at Laramie’s at seven p.m. tomorrow night. I’ve arranged a photo op. Not to worry, it’s just during dinner. Worst-case scenario, they’ll post a pic of you with your mouth full of food. He says he’ll bring a portfolio for you to peek at.”

“Okay, but—”

“You don’t have to do or say much. Just be your charming self. Remember, the main goal here is simply keeping Zero’s name in the mix. A little social media boost equals intrigue, which leads to more airtime and hopefully killer record sales when the third album is released.” He flashed a brilliant grin. “Am I a genius or what?”

“Genius,” I confirmed. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. Call me Sunday morning.”

I stared after him for a moment, then grabbed an acoustic guitar from the wall and perched my ass on a stool near the sofa. I strummed the instrument and immediately winced.

“Ugh. I told you tuning is important. This one is in bad shape. Why don’t you practice your chord formation? Do you remember any?”

“Um, th-this is A minor and this is C major.” Parker demonstrated a couple more.

“Not bad, kid,” I commented, twisting the pegs and testing the strings. “While I’m doing this…how was your day?”

“Okay.”

I met his gaze briefly before looking at the fret. I could have done this with my eyes closed, but I sensed he’d talk more if he thought I was distracted. “Mine too. Not special, not terrible. I was running late and forgot to eat breakfast, so I took Bobby J’s bagel from the kitchen and almost started a riot. His boyfriend made it from scratch. Pretty damn tasty. And impressive. I can’t imagine making bagels. It just seems like one of those things you should buy unless your family has been making them for generations and bagels are in your blood.”

Parker chuckled. An honest-to-God chuckle. My heart expanded in my chest.

“Bagels in your blood? That sounds gross.”

No stuttering either. Extra points for me.

“I know, right? Do you know how to make anything?” I asked conversationally.

“Yeah. Basic stuff like eggs and toast and pasta. I learned how to make pancakes too.”

“Do you add chocolate chips?”

Parker shook his head. “No, but I should.”

“Hell, yes you sh—I mean, heck yeah,” I corrected, strumming the six strings theatrically. “Let’s get started.”

We continued where we’d left off, learning chord progression. In my opinion, it was crucial to know the building blocks of a song. He might decide this wasn’t for him, but if he walked away from guitar lessons knowing how to play one memorable tune, I’d call it a success.

After a series of starts and stops, Parker seemed more comfortable. As his shoulders relaxed, he loosened his grip on the instrument and balanced it on his knee rather than clutching it like a shield. But his expression was still pretty intense. Maybe he was just as determined to learn as I was to teach. I suspected our reasons differed.

I noted the firm set of his jaw as he tripped over a chord and the flash of anger when he flubbed it.

“Ugh. Sorry,” he sighed. “C is hard.”