Fully Automatic (Bullet) (19 page)

Ethan said, “I don’t know about
flying colors
.”

“Still—she kicked ass, right?”  There was general consensus around the room.  “As far as a trial period, don’t you think now’s the time to talk to her first?  What if she thinks we’re fucking
stupid?  What if she says no?”  That’s where Brad felt confident—he didn’t think she would.  He’d seen the draw of the stage, the way the siren call of metal had pulled Val in, and he would be shocked if she turned them down.  Either that, or he would have underestimated Val’s future plan for herself.  But he was damn sure she would jump on the offer.  “So—what do you say?”

They didn’t know it at the time, but their group affirmation to Brad’s proposal would change all of their lives forever.

Chapter Twenty-one

BRAD DROVE TO
Val’s house, the trailer attached to his van and all the gear and equipment already tucked and stowed away.  He hoped he was remembering the route (and the house) correctly from the night before.  It had been dark, and he’d been in an overly emotional state, so he didn’t know if his memories were impaired.

At least the hard part was over.  He was certain Val would be an easy sell.  He didn’t think he’d misread her—not one bit.  She might take a little convincing, but he had no doubts in his mind that she wanted to do it.

He couldn’t figure out what Ethan’s problem was, though.  As they were loading up the van, his friend had said, “Yeah…this is just an elaborate excuse to get into her pants.”  That wasn’t it.  Not at all.  Would he love to get into her pants?  Hell, yeah, and he wouldn’t deny it, but asking her to sing for them wasn’t just a complicated ruse to deflower her.  Instead, it was the natural end result of what Brad had seen in her eyes, that despite all her protests, she dreamed about the stage.  And she really was a hell of a writer.  They’d be fucking idiots to let her go without even trying to extend some kind of offer.

He
cared
about Valerie, and that was part of what had driven him to ask.  He hoped that, unlike Ethan, she could see that.  And that was why he was going to go to her house alone.  He didn’t need Ethan fucking it up before she’d even had a chance to hear him out.

But as he got closer there, he thought he’d need all his friends to help convince her to do it.  His goal instead would be to get her to come to the pizza joint where the guys were already hanging out.

So he pulled up to the modest two-story unassuming house painted white.  The yard was immaculate, with a matching white picket fence out front—pretty cliché, and yet it didn’t surprise Brad at all.  He hadn’t paid much attention to the fence or the color of the house the night before in the dark, but in the stark light of day, he couldn’t help but notice it.

He made his way up the walk and wondered who would answer the door.  He’d already had a few experiences with adults not caring for the way he looked.  Leah’s dad had hated the fact that he didn’t have short hair, and now he had visible tattoos as well.  He didn’t care what most older people thought, but he found himself nervous about what Val’s parents might think.

He took a deep breath before he rang the doorbell.  He had to get his shit under control.  He wouldn’t do well at all if he looked like a fumbling, nervous idiot.  He took another breath and punched the button.  Better to just get it over with.

Several seconds passed and he started wondering if anyone was home.  But he thought he’d heard something inside.  Finally, the inner wooden door swung open
, and it was answered by a teenage boy, probably only two or three years younger than Brad.  He had light brown hair that was long enough to touch his collar, but Brad noticed that the kid had the same eyes and lips as Val.  He had to be her brother.  The kid looked distracted and maybe even a little irritated, and Brad quickly saw why.  He had a PlayStation controller in his hand.  Brad had interrupted his game.  Maybe he was the only one home, or he’d been waiting for someone else.

And why the fuck was Brad worried about that shit?

Another breath.  “Is Val home?”

“Yeah.”  The kid pushed the screen door open
, and Brad grabbed it, following the kid inside.  He didn’t exactly invite Brad in, but Brad took his cue.  He walked inside the house and paused at the foot of some stairs in the hallway.  He yelled, “Val, the door!”

It wasn’t long before Val was at the top of the stairs
, and her little brother had disappeared.  She looked as beautiful as ever, but she looked almost bashful, and he guessed it was because she was feeling a little funny about the previous night’s proceedings.  He didn’t want her to feel guilty for telling him no.  He’d gotten over it.  So he smiled back at her, letting her know
no hard feelings
as she descended the stairs.

Once there, she walked around him.  “Come in,” she said, inviting him into the living room.  They both sat on the sofa and she asked, “So…what’s up?”

He reminded himself of his new goal—to just get her to come talk to the guys.  Together, the four of them could convince her.  As awkward as he could tell she felt, she wouldn’t agree to it with him by himself.  She also needed to know the whole band had agreed on it.  “Me and the guys wanted to talk to you about something before we blow town.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna eat a late lunch before we go.  The guys are already at a pizza place downtown.  Can you join us for a few minutes?”

He thought he could see some hesitation, but she agreed.  “Sure.”  She stood.  “I need to let my mom and dad know, though.”  She walked out of the living room
, and he followed her back down the hall.  She turned and yelled down some stairs that led to a basement.  “Hey, mom, is it okay if I go hang with my band friends for a while before they leave?”

He could hear her mother, but she only appeared at the foot of the stairs when she was done talking.  “Where are you going to be?”  Crazy—he could see the resemblance with her mother too.  Her mother’s hair was lighter, almost blonde, but she had the same cheeks Valerie did—he could see Valerie in her smile.

“Napoli, I think.”

“Oh, is this Ethan?”

Like he needed the confirmation that Val talked about Ethan constantly, but he was nothing.  Still, he wasn’t going to let it make him a rude bastard.  The woman was walking up the stairs toward them when he said, “No, I’m Brad Payne, Mrs. Quinn.”  Her mother was already walking up the stairs, so he held his hand out to her as she got near him.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.  Then she looked at Val.  “I’m sure that’s fine, hon.  What time do you think you’ll be home?”

“I should have her home in two hours or less.”

“Have fun, kids.”  Well,
that
had been easy.

* * *

It didn’t take long to get to the restaurant.  Brad had played music on the way there so they could chill.  He wasn’t ready to make the sales pitch.  They walked into the semi-dark restaurant.  As his eyes adjusted, Brad spotted the guys at a table not far in.  A hostess had started approaching, but Brad pointed to the table and said, “We’re with them.”

Once they got there, Zane said, “We ordered one pepperoni and one with everything and a couple pitchers—one Pepsi, one Dr. Pepper.  Is that okay?”

Brad said, “That’s fine.”  The guys, all wanting to appear cool or masculine or who knew what, all sat with a chair between them, so there was no way Brad could sit next to Val without making a big deal out of it and making someone else move.  So he sat between Nick and Zane.

Val then sat between Zane and Ethan
and asked the waitress to bring her a glass of water.

Brad poured soda in one of the empty glasses.  “Okay, guys.  Who wants to tell her?”

Ethan sat up.  “I will.”  Brad tried not to sigh aloud.  He was going to trust his friend, but if the guy fucked it up, he’d have a lot to answer for.  That was what Brad got for not keeping total control, but he knew he had to trust his bandmates.  Ethan looked sincere, though, even if he’d looked irritable earlier.  Maybe he
could
convince Val.  “All four of us have talked about this seriously, and we want you to sing for the band.”  Val raised her eyebrows, but Ethan was moving in for the kill.  “You probably already know Brad’s lined up a bunch of shows this summer, and we want you to go with us.”

She was quiet.  Really quiet.  For a long time.  Brad could almost see the gears turning, though.  She was giving it real thought.
  Finally, she said, “So…what would I do?  Just sing?”

“Yeah…sing.”

“But then what would you and Brad do?”

Ethan shrugged.  “We could sing on occasion and even do a duet or two, but we could focus more on honing our guitar skills.  I mean…we’re good, but we wanna be great.  And we need a frontman—er,
woman
—who can really interact with the crowd.  That’s harder to do when you have a guitar strapped to you.  We need someone to stir them up, make them energetic, and I know you could do that.”

Goddamn.  Ethan was doing it, and he wasn’t doing a half-assed job.  He needed some backup, though.  Brad added, “And face it, Val.  We can’t hold a candle to your voice.  The crowds ate it up both nights.  They really like you.”

He could see it, the doubt in her eyes.  She wanted to believe what they were saying but was afraid to.  “Yeah, but what if that’s only because it’s something different?”

Ethan was losing his patience.  “Would you stop that already?  Give us a good reason why you can’t.”

She deflated like a balloon.  “Oh…I can give you more than one.”

Zane asked, “Like what?”

“My job.”

Ethan looked incredulous.  “You have a job?”

“What?  Like that’s so unexpected?  Yeah…I babysit two girls Monday through Friday from now through the first week of August.”

“So?  Give ‘em your two-week notice.”

“I can’t do that.  It was a difficult decision for them to hire me as it was.”  The waitress set a glass of water in front of Val.  She tried to be as invisible as possible, vanishing as quickly as she’d appeared.  “Besides…that’s the easy problem.”

“So tell us.”

“I don’t think my parents will let me.”

“Fuck your parents.  You’re a grown woman.”

Brad could see Val’s figurative feathers ruffle at Ethan’s suggestion, and whatever good will he’d won he was flushing down the toilet.  Brad didn’t want to lose her just because Ethan had decided at the last minute to be crude, crass, and cruel.  He leaned in closer and said, “You could ask.”  He wanted Valerie in the band for so many reasons, and not for the reasons Ethan assumed.  He wanted it for her—for the hope and desire he’d seen in her eyes.  He knew too that she’d be good for them.  It was a win-win, as far as he was concerned.

“Okay.  So let’s say for some strange reason my parents have been replaced by pod people and say
yes
.  Then what?  I already told you I’m not going to ditch my job, and I’m sure you’d need to practice with me, and I doubt all your shows are Saturdays only, and—”  She was doubting, still looking for easy reasons to say no.  He had to make her think of the possibilities, rather than the negatives.

“Whoa, Val,” Brad said
, reaching across the table to grab Val’s hands.  He needed her to focus on him and just
believe
.  He looked in her eyes, hoping they said more than his words could.  “Why don’t you ask your parents?  If they say
yes
and you want to do it, then we can figure out the rest.  One step at a time.”

It sunk in.  Her eyes scanned his, as though she were looking for all the answers inside them.
  And she did—he could see the trust between them, and that’s when he knew she was taking it seriously.  And that meant she had a fighting chance.

The food came and she didn’t eat; instead, she asked about their upcoming shows, and he could see her getting more and more excited.  Yeah, the idea of being in a band and performing live was enticing to her.  She was letting it sink in.

So when they were done eating, Brad asked, “You want us to talk to your parents with you?  Let them know we’re legit?”

Val smiled.  “No.  Trust me.  It’s better if I do it myself.”

Brad nodded.  “That’s cool.”

“I promise I’ll text you later and let you know.”
  Brad nodded at her until she said, “But don’t get your hopes up.”

Then he frowned and hoped she could see it in his eyes: 
Believe.

Chapter Twenty-two

THE TRIP HOME was long, hot, and tiring, and he swore he’d never heard guys bitch as much as his three bandmates did that day.  He didn’t feel much sympathy, though, because they’d done it to themselves, partying way too hard.  He hoped they’d take it as a lesson and learn to do things in moderation.  He finally told them all to shut up and stop whining and said two of them could lie down on the seats in the back and one could recline in the passenger seat up front.  Then he turned up the music (not too loud so as to disturb their delicate conditions) and drove.

As Val had suggested, he tried not to get his hopes up, but it was difficult.  No matter how he felt about Val as a maturing woman, he cared about this same woman who was becoming his
close friend.  He cared about her hopes and dreams for the future.  She made him smile and laugh, and every time he saw her, he felt better—about everything.  If they could make music together—and become successful—he would be happy, even if their relationship (if he could call it that) never progressed.

They hadn’t heard a word from Val all afternoon, and she said she’d text with the answer.  The longer it went that he hadn’t heard from her made him more and more apprehensive.  The longer it took, the more he believed that the news wouldn’t be good when she
did
contact him.

They got home and unloaded.  Brad would take the trailer back to the rental place the next day when they were open.  He visited with his mom for a while until she had to go to work, and then he made some dinner.  He was feeling anxious but didn’t feel like he could give anything real focus until he knew, so he plinked on his guitar for a while until his phone made a buzz on the nightstand.

He saw Val’s name.

He took a deep breath and
picked up the phone to read the text on screen. 
If u guys r serious, I’ll b ur singer!

He couldn’t text back.  News like that deserved a phone call.  When she answered her phone, he said, “Fuck, yeah!  I’m glad you agreed, Val.”

“It was an easy decision.  The hard part was convincing my parents to let me do it.”

“I’m glad you did.  I’ll email you the show dates tomorrow morning, and you can let me know how that fits in your schedule.  Then I’ll email you all the songs we’ve recorded so you can learn them.  I can do a couple rough cuts of the newer ones that we haven’t recorded.”

“Shouldn’t we practice together?”

“Yeah, but…look over the schedule first, and then maybe we can figure out some times.”

“Okay.”

“Seriously…glad you decided to do this.”

“Me, too.”

He felt renewed vigor and spent the rest of the night sending Val everything she’d need.  He sent her their schedule first, dates and locations, and asked her to let him know if all those dates would work for her.  Then he emailed her a file with attachments of all their song lyrics, Ethan’s included.  He was glad he’d made his friend give him copies of those when the guy was still writing.
  He’d wanted to make sure he learned the words himself, just in case Ethan ever crapped out.  So he had the files, and it was simply a matter of attaching them to an email.  He apologized for not having electronic music sheets to go with them.

But then he sent a few more emails to her, the next ones containing sound recordings of all the songs they’d ever made.  Some were crappy and rough and others were of higher quality.  None of them were mixed and mastered—they were all live recordings of some type, so he hoped Val was okay with it.  He wanted her to memorize the notes, not appreciate the beauty of the songs—she already loved the songs, so the music files were educational only.

He went to bed that night feeling more hopeful than he had in a while.

When he checked his email the next morning, she hadn’t responded, so he wondered if he’d maybe sent them to the wrong email address.  He hadn’t heard from her by lunch, so during his break at work, he sent her a text, asking if she’d gotten the emails.
  She texted back, letting him know she’d check her email when she got home from work that night.

And, that night, he did have an email from her.  She was concerned about their one Thursday night concert in Denver and she also said she’d be going back to school late August and so she probably couldn’t do any dates after that.

Brad was hoping that maybe once she got a taste, she’d want to work her school schedule around the band too.  He believed she would, but he wasn’t going to say a thing about it—not yet, anyway.  She did say she thought all the other dates were “doable,” and she said she’d start working on learning the songs right away.

He was glad to read that, because her first show was in a week.  They could modify their set list if they had to in order to accommodate songs she felt comfortable singing, but he hoped she could learn most of the songs and feel good enough about them to perform live.  He knew she’d do fine once she learned the songs, because he’d seen her perform.  In fact, he’d seen her perform songs she
wasn’t
confident about yet was able to pull off, so knowing the songs really well would make her just about perfect, he thought.

Val sent the occasional text, updating him on her progress. 
She also sent texts here and there, voicing small concerns, and he’d text her back, trying to reassure her.  One of the last ones she sent, she asked if they would pick her up on the way to the concerts or if she needed to invest in a vehicle.  She also said she didn’t know exactly where any of the places were or how to get there.  She was starting to panic, it sounded like.

So, instead of texting her back yet again, he called her up on Saturday.  He would be better able to gauge her state of mind by the tone of her voice instead of a dry text or email.

“Are you as worried as your emails sound?”

She laughed.  “No.  Actually, I’m really starting to get into this.”  Good.  He was glad to hear it.  “Who’s your tattoo artist?”

He smiled.  “Seriously?”

“I wish.  No…my parents would kill me.”

He tried not to sound lascivious, but he couldn’t help himself.  “If you got one on your ass, they’d never know.”  He’d love to see that.

“Yeah…right.”

Time to change the subject back to business.  “So…the Thursday night show in July.  It’s not till eight that night, and I could maybe make sure we’re one of the later bands.  What time do you get off work?”

“It depends…but usually between four and six.  I could let them know what’s happening to see if they could let me go earlier that day.”

“It doesn’t take long to set up.  How long from Winchester to Denver?”

“If you’re not driving through rush hour, two and a half to three hours.  Downtown?”

“Not sure.  Not a problem, though, because if you got done at work by five and it took three hours
and
we played a little later, we’d be okay.  Pushing it and not able to set up a merch table, but it would be doable.”

“You know what would be easier?  You guys just do that show without me.”

“Fuck no, Val.  If you’re part of the band now, you’re part of the band.  If you can’t make it, we don’t do the show.”

“But no pressure.”

He laughed.  “The other dates work, though?”

“Yep.”

“How are you feeling about the songs?”

She gave him a hard on then, choosing to sing a song he’d written over a year ago, a song called “Take You Down.”
  Her voice sounded sweet and hot, and then when she got to the chorus, she did a kind of growl, kind of an imitation of how Brad had sung the song, and he wanted to jump through the phone and lay one on her.  God, it was sexy as hell, and he couldn’t wait to see her take over the stage.

He didn’t want her to feel self-conscious, though, so he instead just said,
“Nice.”

“Thanks.  So…I’m learning the songs, but I’d feel a lot better rehearsing with you guys a little before we play our first show.  Could we maybe Skype some night next week?”

“What are you doing Friday?”

“Working.”
  
Duh.

Well, yeah, but
“After that…”

“Nothing.”

“So why can’t we do a rehearsal Friday night?  Maybe even Saturday?”

“Where?”

He gave it some thought.  “Good question.  My garage is always free.  Would you be able to drive here?”

“I don’t know.  My parents might not have a car they’d want me to borrow for that long a trip.  I’m hoping to save enough for a car this summer, but until then…”

“You’re off work around five?”

“Ish…”

“Five-ish.  Nice.  Maybe I could pick you up and bring you back here.  It might be kinda late.  We might not feel like rehearsing that night, but maybe Saturday late morning, early afternoon, before we hit the road to go to Denver.  Would that work for you?”

“Yeah.  I think so.”

“Then plan on it.  I think you’ll start feeling one-hundred percent better once you’ve had some time to practice with us.  You know as well as I do that there’s a huge difference between singing with a recording and doing it live.”

“Yeah.  Just knowing we’ll be practicing together is good.  I feel better already.”

“All right.  See you Friday.”

The days flew.  Knowing he’d see Valerie again soon made him feel light and happy and free.  He felt silly thinking it, but it was true.  He told the guys they’d be practicing before the show so Val felt comfortable performing.  Brad told them he’d be picking Val up Friday, and Zane offered to go with him to keep him company.  He said he was getting keyed up for the show
, and he hoped hanging with Brad would help calm his nerves.

That was cool with Brad.  He got the feeling Val would still feel awkward if it was just the two of them.  Their close encounter had really freaked her out.  So maybe it was better that Ethan
volunteered to let Val stay at his house…unless, of course, she hated that idea.  She might.  She wasn’t happy with Ethan.  If she didn’t want to stay at his house, she could stay at Brad’s.

He and Zane had a good trip going to Winchester.  Brad had asked for the afternoon off
from work so they could get her early evening.  They didn’t talk much, instead enjoying playing a lot of music and jamming out.  When they got to Val’s house, both guys walked to the door, and Val threw the door open within seconds.  She’d been eager to be picked up.  Brad took her suitcase from her and carried it to his car.  “What the hell do you have in here?  Bricks?”

She giggled.  “I was afraid of needing something and not having it, so I probably
did
overpack it.”

He grinned at her.  “I’m pretty sure you did, but I think that’s okay.  Us guys never take enough shit, so maybe it’ll balance out.”  He put her suitcase in the trunk and then held the door for her.  Zane offered to sit in the back so she could sit shotgun, but she said the back was fine.  Then she could “kind of” sit next to both of them.

Once they were on the road, Brad said, “Taco Bell on our way through Colorado Springs.”  He looked back at Val.  “No arguing.  My treat.  I’m fuckin’ starving.”

They talked some about wh
at had happened with their week.  Brad could tell that, in spite of her complaints, Val liked caring for the little girls she babysat.  He couldn’t even pretend to like his job, but he had a couple of funny stories to share.  And Zane told them about his fight with his dad’s lawnmower the past week.

They went to Taco Bell, used the facilities, and got two bags of food before returning to the road.

After they finished eating, Zane shut off the CD player and turned in the seat.  “So, Val, can you give me a sample of what you’ve learned so far?”

Brad glanced at her through the rearview mirror but said nothing.  He thought her cheeks turned a little pink.  “It would be easier with the music.”

Zane smiled.  “Ah.”  He started tapping out a beat on the dash and then scatting a baseline.  After a few measures, he started imitating the guitar, and Brad knew he was performing the intro to one of Ethan’s songs, “Not My Time.”  That was all it took, though, because Val recognized the tune and started singing.  Zane kept tapping out the rhythm, and both he and Brad sang backup.  After finishing that one, they sang several other songs, and it helped pass the time.  It didn’t hurt that Brad was hauling ass.  He was tired of driving and, while he enjoyed her company, he wanted to actually
see
her.

At one point, Val asked, “Where will I be sleeping tonight?”

Brad answered, “Oh, yeah.  Ethan said, since you’d stayed at his house before and you knew his mom pretty well already, you could sleep on his couch.”

She sounded pretty irritated when she replied, “It wouldn’t be imposing on his busy social life, would it?”  Not that he blamed her.  He’d seen how Ethan had treated her.

Zane couldn’t resist the opening, though.  “You know about that?”

No.  Bad move.  Val likely wouldn’t take that retort with good humor, so he stepped in before she could respond.  “He’s just fuckin’ with you, Val.  Ethan really did mean it as a nice gesture.  But if you’re not comfortable there, you’re always welcome at my place.  I know my mom wouldn’t have a problem with it.”  And neither would he.  He knew he couldn’t push the girl, but a little suggestion might not hurt.  And maybe then they could take the next natural step in their
relationship
—or whatever it was.