Once the car disappeared from sight, I pushed open the door and went up to the apartment. I figured Angus would be at Del’s tonight, but Kia might be home. I’d like to get to know her better, but she was pretty much always studying, and I hated to bother her. After unlocking the door, I found Max sprawled on the couch with the lights off. The TV was on, throwing shadows over his face.
He propped up on an elbow as I shut the door. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then his voice came out hard, angry, even. “Your phone broken? Or maybe the battery’s dead.”
“Huh?”
“I texted you. Three times.”
I know. I saw.
“Sorry, it was loud in the bar. I probably didn’t hear it.”
“I thought you were meeting Jared at The Pour House.”
“The evening evolved.” I smiled, acting like I didn’t realize that he was pissed. “And if you set me up, you can’t expect me to check in, Max. No offense, but that’d be weird. Not to mention unfair to the person I’m with.”
“Then you must’ve had fun tonight.” The words came out sharp enough to cut diamonds.
Looking back, I had to admit that was true, though Jackass Jared had nothing to do with it. So I nodded. “Had burgers for dinner and then relocated to that bar near campus. Played a few rounds of darts, talked about music.” All of that was certainly true.
You should just tell him, Eli piped up.
If I do that, Max kicks Jared’s ass. There’s drama. It’s better to just let it die quietly. When he isn’t so mad, I’ll tell him about the band.
Eh. I heard Eli’s shrug. If you say so. You’re the expert.
“Sounds like I picked a winner on the first try,” he bit out.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” I waved and headed for my room.
I heard him mumble, “Fuck if I know,” but I didn’t turn. I couldn’t.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next afternoon, I took the bus to the mall.
A keyboard player needs a keyboard. There was a small music store where I hoped to find something usable. The shopping center was unimpressive by Chicago standards, one level with Sears and JCPenney as the flagship stores. I hopped off at the stop closest and walked the last three blocks. Inside I found mostly housewives wrangling toddlers along with a handful of older people dressed for exercise; women in colorful track suits speed-walked past me, gossiping about other ladies in the coffee klatch.
With a grin, I headed for the shop; a sign in the window read ASK ABOUT GUITAR LESSONS. The guy minding the place perked up when I walked in. He probably didn’t get many customers; musical instruments didn’t rank high on the list of casual impulse buys.
“Can I help you with something?”
“I’m in the market for a keyboard.”
He led me around, talking brands and budget. In the end, I bought a Yamaha portable. He promised the sound would be good enough for performance. But after I bought it, I realized I had no feasible way to get everything home. There was no way in hell I wanted to lug the gear to the bus stop, even assuming I could manage. Studying the contact list on my phone offered only a few possibilities. Nadia, I guess, or Angus... But that wouldn’t solve the problem of how to get my stuff to Evan’s for rehearsal tonight. But maybe... Hoping he wouldn’t think I was an asshole, I tapped Evan in my contact list and waited for the call to connect.
“What’s up, funny girl?”
I had no idea if that was a compliment but since I was about to ask for a favor, I let it go. “What’re you doing right now?”
“Eating cereal in my underwear.”
That started a laugh out of me. “You believe in complete honesty, huh?”
“Hey, you asked. Don’t risk the question if you can’t handle the answer. But I’m pretty sure you didn’t call me up for that. Unless you did.” I could actually hear the smile in his voice.
“Could you put some pants on and swing by the mall? I just got a new keyboard and I could use some help getting it to your place.”
“Not a problem. Just chill with Dave at the store and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
It was closer to twenty when Evan rolled in; I was fiddling with an acoustic guitar, getting a free lesson and starting to feel awkward about it. I put down the instrument and waved, picking up all the accessories I could carry.
Evan grinned. “I see how you are. So I’m a pack mule to you?”
“Do you see any saddle bags?”
“Thanks, D. I’ve got it from here.” He made a take-off gesture at the store clerk, who reluctantly went around the counter and left us to haul everything out to the van. As he stacked my stuff in back, Evan added, “I handle transportation and since I have the most room, I store the amps and everything else at my place. If you want, you can leave your gear, too.”
“That would be good. Otherwise rehearsal could be problematic. I’ve never really needed a car before.”
“City girl,” he scoffed.
“Basically. I really appreciate this.” To my surprise, he came around to open my door. Evan might look like a thug, but his manners suggested otherwise.
“I might be planning to sell your shit on Craigslist as soon as you take off.” He cut me an ominous look, thick brows drawn down.
“If you do, you won’t have a keyboardist,” I pointed out. “Don’t you stand to earn more money as a working band than as a felon?”
“Your logic is my Kryptonite.” He started the van and drove toward his house.
As promised, he showed me the other equipment, safe in his garage. I unloaded beside him, though he was careful to grab the heavy stuff. Evan sighed when he realized I’d bought basically everything we could possibly need for a show in one shot. He studied me, tapping one Doc Marten against the cement floor.
“What?”
“No job. You just spent eighteen hundred, easy.”
“So...?”
“It means you’re a rich girl. How do we know you won’t just take off the minute this stops being fun? Because it’s definitely work. And the rest of us need you to take it seriously. We don’t expect to hit it big or anything, but—”
“Relax,” I cut in. “I wouldn’t have spent the money if I didn’t think I could earn it back.”
He scanned my face for a few seconds more, before letting me off the hook with a sharp nod. “Fine. You want a ride home?”