Page 44 of Fractured Rhythm

“‘Tom Sawyer,’” she said.

“By Rush?” Jax asked.

“No, by Mark Twain,” she shot back, and I swear Tristan snorted.

“Go for it,” Jax said, gesturing toward the drum kit.

Charlie walked over and took her seat.

“We all liked her demo,” Tristan said.

“Yeah, but a chick in the band? On drums?” Jax asked.

“Kravitz has a female drummer,” I said.

“Ready?” Charlie called out.

“Yeah,” Tristan said, and she started playing.

“Holy shit, she’s good,” Jax said. I couldn’t disagree.

She was amazing. The song wasn’t easy, and her rhythm was perfect. She even had the long hair to swing around. Jamie would’ve been proud.

“And not just for a girl,” Jax continued.

“Man, you can be a total douche, you know that,” Tristan said, only taking his eyes off of her to jot down notes. The man was a meticulous note taker for everything. I had spent most of high school copying Tristan’s notes.

“I’m saying that very few rock and metal bands that are mostly men have female drummers. Do you think our fans would like her?” Jax asked.

I looked at her again. She had long blond hair, a partial tattoo sleeve on her right arm, ripped-up jeans, and a tank top. She played the drums like she was born to, her arms flying as she hit the skins. She reminded me of Jamie. He would’ve loved watching her play.

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