Page 16 of One Night

Van leans back on the beat-up plaid couch that's sitting against the wall. "Did you just come from the gym?" He sniffs the air. "Because something stinks."

"It's not me. I showered at the gym. It's this basement." Austin takes a sniff of air. "It smells like something died down here."

I set my guitar down. "I said the same thing." I turn to Van. "Why the hell does it smell so bad?"

"Why you asking me? I don't smell. I showered like an hour ago."

I walk over to him. "The smell is worse over here. It's gotta be the couch."

This house came with the furniture and since it's been rented out by countless college students over the years, who knows what it's been exposed to? I try not to think about that whenever I sit on the furniture.

Van sniffs the air again, then sniffs the cushion next to him and reaches under it and pulls out a sandwich. He smiles as he holds it up. "So that's where it went. I couldn't find it the other day. I assumed I ate it but I was still hungry so I couldn't figure it out."

"That's disgusting," Austin says, noticing the hairs sticking to the bread. "What is it? Salami?"

"Yep." Van gets up to toss it in the trash.

"Upstairs," I tell him. "Put it in the trash can in the garage."

Van rolls his eyes as he walks up the stairs. I swear, if Van lived by himself the whole place would smell like rotten sandwiches.

"So how's it going?" Austin asks, taking his guitar out of the case. "Do anything interesting today?"

"Not really. Work was boring, as usual." I work at a record store, which sounded cool when I took the job but it's so freaking boring. Records are supposed to be making a comeback but I'm not sure that's true because nobody ever comes into the store so I just stand around looking through albums. It seems like the perfect job for a musician, and it is, until you do it all day, every day, and have flipped through every stack of records at least a dozen times.

"Why don't you find something else?" Austin asks.

"Because it's easy. And the pay is decent."

"You could be a waiter. You'd make more money."

"Can't. I tried it and I sucked. I'm not good at any kind of foodservice. I couldn't even work the coffee cart on campus. They fired me after the first day. The record store is boring but at least I'm good at it. And I only have to work there until classes start. That's only a month away. Anyway, how about you? How's work?"

"Good. I'm on a new job with Nash. Started it yesterday."

Van comes bounding down the stairs. "Shit, it stinks down here."

"You didn't notice that before?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Guess I was used to it." He goes over to his drums, taking a seat on the stool. "So what are we starting with?"

Austin looks at me to answer. As lead singer, I decide on our set list. I take their input if they have any, but they usually don't. Van and Austin just like to play. They don't care what order we do the songs.

"We're going to try a new one." I'm nervous just saying it, my pulse racing. I poured my heart and soul into that song and I'm afraid to share it with anyone.

"New what?" Van asks, tapping his drumstick on his knee.

"A new song."

"You finished it?" Van asks. I thought he was talking to me but his eyes are on Austin. I'd forgotten Austin was writing a song.

"No," he says. "I decided I didn't like it so I stopped working on it."

"It's mine," I blurt out, wanting to get this over with. I know they're going to be idiots about it so I just want to hurry through all that so we can move on and play the song.

"You shittin' me?" Van asks. "You actually finished a song? Like actually finished it?"

"Yeah. I've been working on it for a while and it's finally done. I'm not saying we're gonna perform it. I just wanted to hear how it sounds."

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