Love Will (48 page)

- - Okay.

- …

- Okay? Just okay?

- - Yes, okay!

- You’re killing me.

- If he met you first, would he have had a chance with you??

- - Knowing what I knew then or what I know now?

- Then, I guess.

- - I would have invited him in and talked to him, just like I did with you.

- - From there, you know, it would have been up to him to impress me, but I can say with certainty that he wouldn’t have.

- Why do you say that?

- - Because when he was with me in Minneapolis, all he did was try too hard to impress me.

- Like… was he hitting on you?

- - No… but he’s just very into himself.

- He’s confident, yeah.

- - I can probably tell you twenty facts about him, but I bet he can’t tell you five about me that aren’t related to my looks–or things you’ve told him about me.

- Because he doesn’t listen?

- - Because he never asked.

- Well.

- Yeah, he can be a little self-centered but it makes for a good front man for a band, for sure. And I remember when I first met him in school, he was very cocky. It took awhile for him to get past the boasting and really talk about himself to me… for us to have real conversations.

- - Awww, you’re sticking up for him.

- He was probably nervous, is all I’m saying.

- You’re so beautiful, he probably just didn’t know what to do with you.

- That and he knew he couldn’t do anything with you. ;)

- - Maybe so.

- He’s a good guy.

- Brags about his dick a little too much, but aside from that, he’s a good guy.

- - The Demon?

“Damon!” I holler, signing the tab and pushing it over to the bartender. I walk over to him and hold my phone in front of his face. “Care to explain why Shea knows the
name
of your cock?”

The rest of the band laughs as Damon squirms in his seat.

“Oh, you said I’m a good guy!” he says to me, smiling.

“I’m about to take it all back.”

“You might want to ask
her
that question, and not me.”

“No, I think I’d rather hear it from you.”

“She was reading an article in some women’s magazine on the plane that had twenty awesome names for dicks, man. It had nothing to do with me. She wanted to know if I’d named mine, and if so, if it was on the list. When I told her it wasn’t, she asked what I called it.”

I nod my head, feeling the embarrassment rise to my cheeks. “You fucking tell her about Big Willy?”

“I mean… she
asked
.”

“Did you tell her that
I
did not name my dick, but that
you
have insisted on referring to it as that since our junior year in high school?”

“I didn’t think that detail was necessary.”

“Fuck, man… why are we even friends?” I sit back down in front of my cold bar food.

- I DID NOT NAME MY DICK.

- WHATEVER HE TOLD YOU IS A FUCKING LIE.

- - Musicians lie. I know.

- Thank you.

- I love you.

- - I love you.

- - And to show you how much, I’m coming to Colorado.

“Guys, we’re going to have a tagalong in Colorado. Shea’s driving to meet up with us in Denver, and she’s going to hit all the stops in the state. And then she and I are going to take a little detour to Divide after our show in Fort Collins.”

“What’s in Divide?” Tavo asks.

“No, you’re not,” Damon says.

“Yeah, we are.”

“The fuck you are…”

“It’s something I have to do.”

“What’s in Divide?!”

“Will’s father,” Peron answers. “And you’re asking for trouble.”

“
I
am? He brought this on himself.”

“Shea’s okay with this plan?” Damon asks.

“Fifty bucks says Shea doesn’t know about it,” Peron adds.

“…yeah, I wouldn’t take that bet,” I finally say, not looking directly at anyone. “But she’ll be fine with it.”

- It’ll be an interesting week.

- You just get yourself there.

- I’ll take care of all the accommodations.

- - Perfect.

The concert hall isn’t huge, but it’s different from any other venue we’ve played. It was built in the sixties, and whoever designed the place must have geeked out on sound like I do. I let Ben mess around with my modded guitar so I can hear the sound from different seats in the room. I still won’t let anyone else touch the vintage acoustic from the Hollands.

“This is fucking aurally
orgasmic
, Ben. I don’t think you understand how special this room is. I don’t want to play tonight. I just want to sit out here and listen.”

“Not an option, dude. Get up here so I can start setting things up.”

“When do we leave here? Do we have an extra night? Maybe there’s another show tomorrow I could come to.”

“We’re in Lawrence in two nights, but I wanted to get on the road in the morning,” he says as I take the guitar from him.

“If I find out there’s a band playing, think about staying another night.”

He doesn’t say anything more about it, consumed in unloading some equipment while I tune the guitar he just
un
tuned.

“Lola was really impressed with your songs,” he says. “I let her listen to the stuff we’d recorded on the bus for fun when we were driving back to New York.”

“Wow. Was that a good idea? Peron and I hadn’t even decided what we were doing with the rights on those yet,” I say.

“What, like I can’t trust her?” he asks, getting defensive.

“You know what, never mind.” I don’t feel like fighting with him today. “That’s cool that she liked them.”

“I was wondering if you could help me with something. A surprise for her, for Valentine’s Day.” I’m glad his back’s to me while I look at him in disbelief.

“And how would I be able to help you?”

“I wanted you to write a song for her.”

“Nope,” I answer, cutting him off.

“Come on, Will. It would mean so much to her to have her own song… and I tried, but everything I write is so trite and lame and shit.”

“I can’t just pick some random girl and write music for her. Lola doesn’t inspire me, Ben.”

“Well, then write something with Shea in mind and we’ll just say it’s for Lola. She doesn’t have to know, right?”

“No fucking way would I waste a song for the girl I like on a girl that–” Oh, fuck, this conversation could go in so many different directions right now, and almost did. “A girl that doesn’t inspire me,” I repeat.

“Maybe she could if you knew more about her. Could you at least
try
?”

“Have you asked Peron?” I suggest, knowing our bassist wouldn’t be too thrilled with this suggestion either. No guy wants to pen a song for some other guy’s girl. It’s just a way to get Ben off
my
back.

“There’s a reason the label didn’t offer him a contract, Will, and you know it. Lola’s very sweet and unassuming, but she has this sort of naughty side to her,” he starts telling me. “I think there’s a good song in there. Maybe you could use the word
dichotomy
.”

“Dichotomy… yeah, good word,” I say sarcastically. “Have you ever tried to rhyme with
dichotomy
? I mean,
lobotomy’s
an option.”
Maybe a good option in this case, actually.

“Well, don’t use it as one of your rhyming words, Will. You’re the writer. Figure it out.”

“She know you’re asking me to do this?”

“No,” he responds. “It’s a surprise. Look, I’ll pay you.”

No amount of money would be worth this. I shake my head at him. “I’m just going to have to respectfully decline, man. I can give you the names of some people back home if Peron can’t do it, but I can’t just whip out a song for a girl I don’t feel things for, and I’m not going to give up one of Shea’s songs for somebody else. Lola’d know, anyway. They’re different people.
Very
different people–I mean, I’m assuming. Different stories to tell and all that.”

“You can be such a pretentious asshole sometimes.”

“And you’re just an entitled prick. Who do you think you are, assuming I’d do something so personal for someone who has shown such little respect for me, anyway? Every time I think you might be making some changes, you open your fucking mouth and prove to me you’re the same dick I didn’t want as our manager in the first place.”

“Well, you were outvoted there…”

“I was the only one sober at the time. Damon loves
everyone
when he’s drunk.”

“I’m done here,” he says on his way out. “Sound check at six.” The auditorium door slams shut behind him.

I take out my old iPod and an adapter and hook it up to the sound system, finding a song that’s worthy of this old building. It feels like an
Eleanor Rigby
kind of day.

My phone rings just as Paul sings the last line of the song, and the iPod blasts into the next song on shuffle. I rush the stage to pause the music, and answer the call appropriately once I see who it is.

“Jon Scott here,” I say.

“Uhhh, that’s my line,” my brother says.

“No, I was just called
pretentious
, and I think that’s
your
special attribute, not mine.”

“Ouch. Well, I’ve heard it before.”

I chuckle at his honest response. “I know you have. I remember you blowing a gasket about it. Don’t worry, I know it’s not true.”

“Who the hell called
you
pretentious?”

“Dickbag.”

“Ben?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s his problem?”

“T-rex arms, tiny penis, I don’t know.”

He bursts out laughing. “I never thought about it, but his arms are kind of stumpy, aren’t they?”

“He says he has an elongated torso.”

“Right, right. Well can we go back to, uh… Jon Scott? Or at least
J.
Scott?”

“Not following.”

“I’m getting your mail now, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, so you’re now getting mail addressed to Will J. Scott, and uh… I’m wondering about this middle initial thing, because I didn’t know that was part of the name change.”

“
S
. Scott was redundant. I don’t like redundancies,” I tell him nonchalantly.

“So may I inquire as to what the
J.
stands for?”

“Since you asked so politely, my pretentious brother, you may…” I tease him. “I decided I would keep my middle name an initial, so it’s not, you know, so obvious. But it stands for the name of the only guy I’ve ever looked up to.”