Can't Go Back Page 3

  “Yeah, I want it to be subtle. Barely noticeable.” Jillian would kill me if she knew what I was about to do.

  “Here you go.” He passed me the sketch. He’d done every one of my pieces and he knew what I liked. Jillian’s nickname filled a tiny droplet that matched the others I already had on my chest.

  Five years before, when my friend Thor and I started our band, Mine Shaft, I’d promised myself that I would get a full chest piece when we booked our first paid gig. I’d settled on a likeness of my bass guitar, broken and bleeding song titles from the fracture. Now I was about to add one more “drop” falling from the guitar: Jillian’s nickname.

  “It’s perfect. Let’s do it.” I handed the sketch back to him with a smile.

  “All right then.” He clapped his hands together, ready to get to work. “You know the drill. I’ll get my stuff together and we’ll get started.”

  “Sounds good.” I pulled my shirt over my head and got comfortable in the chair. A little smile crept to my lips and a thrill went through me. There was nothing like getting a tattoo. Since I’d gotten my first one, I’d become addicted. Plus the ink I was about to get was something I’d wanted for a long time, and now that Jillian wasn’t there, it only seemed fitting.

  “Got the stencil,” Angelo said, walking over to the chair.

  “Cool.”

  He prepped my skin and laid the stencil near the top of my left pec, right where the bass cracked open. When he peeled the paper away, the tiny drop bearing Jillian’s name clung to the edge of the guitar.

  “Look good?” he asked.

  I sat up to glance in the mirror near the chair. “Yeah,” I replied, looking down at her name clinging to the edge of my bass.

  “Cool.” He smiled and grabbed his machine from the tray.

  I lay back down and Angelo leaned in, ready to begin. I closed my eyes and sighed, ready for the welcome burn of the needles.

  While Angelo worked I ran through the melody I’d written during my eighteen-hour drive home from Rhode Island. By the time I’d pulled into my apartment complex, I had written a whole new song.

  With my eyes still closed, I could hear the chords Thor would play on his guitar, Adam’s steady drumbeat, and Pauly’s keyboard. I layered each instrument, finally adding the bass line, breathing life into the song. The only thing missing was the lyrics, which in my opinion were the most difficult part of songwriting. For me they always came last. I had to hear the music—feel it—in order to write something meaningful.

  Concentrating on the scratching sensation of Angelo’s machine against my chest, I allowed the vibration of the needles to provide the rhythm I needed as I worked through some lyrics.

  “That’s it, man,” Angelo announced, wiping my chest one final time and silencing his machine.

  I hadn’t come up with anything useful before he finished. I pulled my eyes open, squinting through the bright lights of the room, and looked down at my chest. Although the droplet was only a little over an inch long and “Jillibean” was barely visible, it was already my favorite.

  “What do you think?” he asked as I admired his work.

  “It’s perfect.” I held up my fist and he knocked his knuckles into mine. “Thanks, man.”

  “Sure thing.” He rubbed some Vaseline over Jillian’s name and bandaged it up. “Leave the bandage on until morning, wash it real good, then lotion it up.”

  Once the small bandage was in place, he handed me an aftercare card. I stood up from the chair and folded the card into my back pocket before I slipped on my shirt. “Thanks again, man. I appreciate you getting me in on such short notice.”

  “Anytime, dude.” Angelo looked me in the eyes and gave me a small smile. “She’s gone, huh?” he asked.

  I nodded. Jillian had come to the shop with me when Angelo did the script on my bicep and the guitar on my chest, so he knew her well.

  “She’ll be back for Christmas and summer, though,” I sighed. My best friend leaves for college, and I turn into fucking pussy. What’s wrong with me? “Thanks. I’ll see you around, man.”

  “Looking forward to it. Hang in there, she’ll be back before you know it.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  I settled up with Angelo and walked the couple of blocks to where I’d parked my bike. Before I got on, I checked my phone: four missed texts and one voice mail. Thor and Erin, but no word from Jillian. What is she up to? I had the feeling I’d be thinking that a lot from here on out.

  Chapter Four

  I shot Thor a quick text, Be there in 30, then mounted my bike, putting a call in to Erin before I hit the road. Scrolling through my contacts, I hit Erin’s name and waited for her to answer.

  “Hey, Griffin.” Erin’s honeyed voice met my ears. “What have you been up to?”

  I couldn’t tell her about my new ink. She wouldn’t understand. “Not much. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I got in around three a.m. and slept most of the day.”

  “It’s no problem. I had volleyball practice today anyway. Are you at the bar yet?”

  I leaned back on my seat and slid the keys into the ignition, waiting to start the engine. “Not yet. I’m on my way, though. Meet me there?”

  “You bet,” she said. “Griffin?” Her voice dropped into a hush.

  “Yeah?” I answered.

  “I missed you.” The statement was a whisper slipping from her mouth, barely audible from my end of the line, almost as if she were afraid I would hear.

  In the back of my mind, I could hear Jillian telling me to give Erin a chance, and she was right, I did need to give her a chance. That was the whole reason I’d asked her out in the first place, to erase any notions I had about being with Jillian. I needed a distraction. Erin was cool and we always had a great time together. If I let myself believe it, she was someone I could fall for…in time. She was strong, smart, a damn good athlete, funny as hell, not to mention gorgeous. Images of her long, sculpted legs came to mind.

  I only had to give her a chance.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I missed you, too.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” The twang of her Georgia accent came alive.

  “See you.” I ended our conversation there. If I didn’t get a move on, Thor would have a coronary.

  * * *

  By the time I got to the bar, Pauly, Thor, and Adam were already there. I pulled the door open and took off my sunglasses.

  “Hey, man,” Pauly said, looking up from his keyboard. He was busy taping down wires and getting his keyboard situated in the confined space the local bar called a stage. “Where have you been?”

  Thor must have kept my detour to himself. “I had something I needed to take care of.” I shrugged and joined him on stage, grabbing the roll of tape from his hand and tearing off a piece. “Where’s Thor?”

  “Out back.” Pauly gestured with his head. “He’s bringing in the last cabinet.”

  “Cool.” I tossed the tape to Pauly and headed toward the rear exit. “Gonna see if he needs help.” I’d made it halfway down the hall when Thor came in, hauling the speaker in his arms.

  “Got your shit straightened out now?” he asked, walking in my direction.

  I followed him into the main room and onto the stage. “Yeah. Better now.” I rubbed my hands on my jeans, ready to pull the gig together.

  Thor placed the speaker on the floor and got it set up before standing back up. “Good to hear.” He slapped my back and smirked.

  I smiled, thankful he understood. “The set list still the same?” I asked while I shoved my keys and sunglasses into the backpack we kept on stage.

  “Pretty much.” Thor finished hooking the cabinet to the amp and plugged in his guitar. “Adam was bitching about something, but he can piss off. We’re not changing shit now.”

  I reached for my bass and plugged it into my amp. Systematically I worked my thumb along each knuckle of my right hand, then my left. Each joint gave a loud pop as I pressed down. “Agreed.�
�� I shook out my hands and adjusted the volume and tone before I walked my fingers across the strings.

  The rich, deep sound vibrated through my body, and I instantly relaxed. No matter what kind of mood I was in, my bass always pulled me out of my head and into the music. I took a deep breath and played some scales, tuning as I went along. Reaching over to the amplifier head, I adjusted the EQ knobs and found my tonal sweet spot. I stood back up and started plunking out a few lines of the first song on our set list. Thor grinned and added his guitar riff to my bass line, beginning a mini jam session for the few bar patrons perched on their stools.

  Our tune quickly evolved into an improv session, each of us playing off of what the other was feeling. I relished organic moments like these, getting lost in the music. Thor and I had been playing together since we were fifteen and knew each other’s style like it was our own.

  I guided my hands across the taut strings, bringing out the bass line to Thor’s melody. I let the music wash over me, fill me. I anchored my heavyheartedness due to Jillian’s absence on the lowest notes of my bass, drowning my feelings beneath the music.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were trying to get rid of us,” Pauly said, coming back into the room with Adam following behind.

  I slapped a few more notes and quieted my instrument. Thor did the same. My blood was pumping and my breath came fast. With music running through my veins, I was amped up for the show, even though it would be small.

  “You didn’t get the memo?” Thor said, punching Pauly in the shoulder.

  Pauly flipped Thor off and took his stance by the keyboard. I laughed, shaking my head while I watched Adam mount his drum kit.

  “You guys ready to hit this?” Adam asked.

  Thor made some minor adjustments on his amp and said, “Count us in, dude.”

  Adam counted and we came in on the downbeat. I listened intently to Adam’s kick drum, making sure we both stayed in sync. With the small venue, we didn’t need much extra equipment in order to hear each other.

  Still thumping out the bass line, I stepped closer to the mic, ready to rock this gig.

  * * *

  Sweat rolled down the sides of my face and my hair stuck to my forehead and cheeks. Despite the heat and cramped quarters, this was what I lived for. The crowd bobbed up and down, an undulating mass controlled only by our music. I knew the effect music had on me, how it consumed me wholly, and here it was doing the same thing to complete strangers. Who knew my lyrics and music held that kind of power? God, I love this.

  Exhausted and rocking on pure adrenaline, I sang loudly into the mic and the crowd cheered, raising their hands above their heads, beer bottles and all. Thor hit two fast chords, I laid into the bass, Pauly struck the keys, and Adam pounded a steady beat as I brought the neck of my bass down, cutting them off.

  The crowd stilled, unsure if the song was finished.

  I loved writing songs that messed with the audience. The guys and I remained still, giving no hint of whether we would resume playing. Then, very quietly, Adam picked up the beat with his kick drum. Pauly played a few dissonant chords on the keyboard, and I sang the last line just before Thor wrapped up the song with his guitar.

  Once again the house went crazy. The crowd had grown exponentially. There wasn’t a seat left. Hot, sweaty, and out of breath, I spoke into the mic: “Thank you.” I took a little bow and winked at Erin standing in the front row. I could easily pick her out of the crowd; her long legs went on for miles. Her blond hair was swept back into a ponytail and her cheeks were flushed from dancing. She looked beautiful.

  I held up my index finger, letting her know I’d join her in a minute. She winked, a huge smile blooming across her face. Nodding her understanding, she went back to talking to the friend she’d brought along.

  I pulled the towel off my shoulder and wiped the sweat from my face. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Reaching back, I yanked it free, and noticed it said UNKNOWN CALLER.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hello? Mr. Daniels?” a man replied.

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Leo Dane. I heard your band play about a month ago,” he said.

  I brushed my damp hair away from my forehead and took another deep breath. “Um, yeah?” I shouted over the din of the noisy bar.

  “Is this a bad time?” he asked.

  “Uh, no. Sorry, we just finished a show. Give me a sec, and I’ll find someplace quieter.” I made my way to the front entrance.

  As I pushed my way through the crush of people, Leo Dane continued. “Like I said before, I had the pleasure of catching a Mine Shaft show last month. You’ve got a great sound.”

  I opened the front door and stepped into the crowd of smokers who’d been relegated to the outdoor seating. Shouldering through them and their haze, I walked a few steps down the street. “That’s good to hear. When do you need us to play?” I asked.

  “Thursday morning,” he answered without hesitation.

  “I’ll have to—” I snapped my mouth closed when Mr. Dane started speaking, cutting me off completely. What a dick. This was not the way to get me to agree to a gig.

  “Not only did I catch your show last month, Mr. Daniels, but I’ve also listened to the demo you sent.”

  Wait. What? “You have my demo?” I sucked in a breath and held it.

  “Mr. Daniels, I work for Amphion Productions. We’d like to talk to you about Mine Shaft’s future.”

  My mouth fell open. I was speechless.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  Snapping back to reality, I remembered to breathe, stumbling over my words as I spoke. “I…uh.” I couldn’t think. “Uh, yeah.” God, I sounded like a bumbling idiot. “Yes, Thursday morning is great.”

  “Cool. Mine Shaft’s name has been buzzing around the music scene for a while. I’m looking forward to meeting the band, Mr. Daniels.”

  “What time did you say you wanted to meet?” I paced up and down the sidewalk, savoring the moment. I was blown away. Is this for real?

  Over the past year, I’d sent out handfuls of demos and hoped that something would come of it, but I’d never gotten any responses. Jillian had been the one who spurred me on, always telling me to keep going. She’d be flipping out about this phone call.

  “Does seven thirty work for you guys?” Leo asked.

  “Seven thirty’s great,” I confirmed. “We’ll be there.”

  “Cool. I’m looking forward to hearing you guys again.”

  “Yes, sir. See you then,” I said, and then the line went dead.

  I dropped my hands to my sides, still reeling. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Did that really happen? I was ready to jump out of my own skin.

  “Who was that?” Erin’s Southern accent came up behind me.

  I spun around with a big-ass grin on my face. In that moment it was nice to see a beautiful blonde walking toward me. She looked a lot like Jillian, except for their considerable difference in height. Where Jillian was barely over five feet, Erin stood about a foot taller.

  I wished Jillian were the one standing in front of me, but she wasn’t. Erin was here. My inner voice chimed in, Give her a chance.

  Her bright-blue eyes were darkened by the night sky, yet they sparkled in the light of the street lamps. “That, my dear, was a record producer.” I grabbed her waist and spun us around.

  She laughed, wrapping her arms around my neck. “A producer?” she squealed. “What did he want?”

  I set her down and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “We have a meeting with Amphion Productions. They want to discuss the band’s future.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, a wide smile blooming across her face. “Griffin, that’s amazing,” she yelled.

  I folded my arms around her back, drawing her closer. Because I was only about four inches taller, our faces were always perfectly aligned. I kissed her again, trying to convince myself that her kiss was all I needed in this moment. Her lips were
soft and sweet on mine. “Mmm,” I hummed against her mouth. “You taste like peaches.”

  Not wanting to back away from our kiss, she answered, “Peach schnapps.” Then she slid her tongue past my lips and into my mouth.

  She was a damn good kisser. I enjoyed kissing her. With her killer body pressed to mine, I was ready to do more than just kiss.

  Slowing down, I pulled away just enough to see her swollen lips stretch into a playful smile. “I’ve got to tell the guys about the phone call,” I said, sliding my hands down her arms and threading my fingers between hers.

  “All right,” she sighed.

  I smiled, kissed her one more time, and pulled her along as I ran down the sidewalk, eager to tell the guys our good news.

  Chapter Five

  After the call from the producer, the party really got underway. For an hour we celebrated our good news at the bar. Erin, Pauly, and Adam did shots while Thor and I stuck to one victory dance beer each—sometimes it sucked being the designated drivers.

  With her third shot sitting on the bar, Erin grabbed my wrist and slicked her tongue over it.

  “Woo, you go, girl!” Pauly shouted, throwing back his shot.

  She smirked at him, sprinkling granules of salt onto my skin, and licked my wrist again. This was damn hot. Her heated gaze locked onto mine as she grabbed the shot glass, threw the tequila into her mouth, and swiped a lemon wedge from the bowl on the bar. With the lemon between her lips, I took the opportunity to kiss the corner of her mouth. She didn’t taste like peaches this time. With a couple of drinks, her sweet Southern charm morphed into sexy Southern sass.

  Erin pulled the lemon from her mouth, licking her lips.

  I put my mouth to her ear. “Ready to get out of here?”

  As I leaned back, she nodded. “Yes, please.”

  “Well, gents. It’s time I took the lady home,” I said in an affected Southern drawl.

  Thor stood just as I did, holding his arm up. I clamped my palm against his and he pulled me into a one-armed hug. “This is it, man.” He slapped my back a few times, and I did the same to him.