Page 30 of Falling for the Guy Next Door

“So, you didn’t say anything to Bosco either?” Seth asked.

I stood in the doorway of the kitchen listening to a conversation that had more holes than Swiss cheese.

Ronnie pointed to herself. “Again, why is it on me? You’re just afraid that Bosco is going to blow his stack. Well, I’m not going to be the messenger.”

“Messenger for what?” Bosco asked curtly as he walked in the back door. He was wearing board shorts, and his sandy feet were in flip-flops. He stared down at the pizza and scowled at me. “Cheese? Really, Nash, why can’t you just take the damn pepperonis off the pizza?”

“Lovely to see you, too, pal.”

Bosco scoffed. “I think we left ourpaldays far behind us, Ledger.”

“Seems that way.” I walked out with a slice of pizza and a beer. We waited for Bosco to join us.

Ronnie looked down at Bosco’s feet. “Seriously? You couldn’t wash your feet off before you drove back home? There’s a big cleaning deposit on this place, and we won’t get much back if we’ve left sand in the carpet. In fact, that was a specific request of the persnickety owners—no sand in the house.”

Bosco ignored her and sat down with sandy wet shorts on the couch, dropped off his flip-flops and stacked his sandy feet on the coffee table.

Ronnie looked as if she was about to spit fire at him, and I would have liked to see it. She tamped down her rage by pulling her attention from Bosco. He was obviously just trying to push buttons. “Well, Seth, the floor is all yours.”

Seth stared down at his paper plate for a second. “Guess I’ll just spit it out. Brianna’s dad has offered me a managerial position at his lumber yard. It’s too good to pass up. Having a steady job will help Bri and me qualify for a house, and frankly—” He looked at all of us. “Well, I don’t think I’m the only one who feels like this band is going nowhere and coming apart at the seams.”

“That’s because we can’t do Europe,” Bosco said. “That would have given us a boost.”

I looked at him. “I told you, take the band to Europe. I’m fine with that.”

Bosco glowered at me. “No one wants us without the golden boy, so it’s easy for you to say that—like you’re being a big hero and all that because you know it’s not going to happen.”

I dropped the rest of the pizza on the plate and sat back with my beer. I had nothing else to say to Bosco, and something told me anything I did say would be met with wrath. Obviously, Seth had sensed we were heading for the end, so he’d found himself a good way out. I, on the other hand, needed the extra cash we got from shows. Not that breaking up the band sounded like a bad idea. It was mostly about the loss of income, which if I thought about it, wasn’t a great reason to play in a band. Years ago, it had been about creating music, seeing people excited to hear us, gathering new fans wherever we went, but that just didn’t seem to be enough anymore.

“I think it’s great you found a steady job, Seth, and it does sound too good to pass up.” I looked at Ronnie. “Haven’t heard from you yet.”

“Well, I already knew about it for the last twelve hours, so I’ve had more time to process the whole thing.” Ronnie looked at me. There were tears in her eyes. “Being in this band has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but it seems the writing is on the wall. Time for all of us to move on.”

Bosco shoved the coffee table with his feet and stood up. “Yeah, whatever. Good riddance to all of it.” He stormed out. Ronnie and Seth looked at me. They were right. Bosco was my best friend or, at least, hewasat one point in time.

I gave him a few minutes out back alone, finished my beer and then walked outside. Bosco was standing at the railing on the deck staring out at a yard that was mostly grass with a few shrubby plants.

“Should have stuck with football,” he growled. “Then my dad would actually have respect for me, and now that the band has failed, he’ll have extra grist for looking down on me.”

“Jeez, Bos, is that what this is all about? Who cares what he thinks? Even when you were playing football, he found reasons to put you down. That was his parenting style, and frankly, you were a lot better at being a son than he was at being a dad.”

He spun around. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“I could put in a good word for you with the construction foreman.”

He turned back around and braced his hands on the railing as he stared out at the small yard. “I’m not standing out there in the hot sun pounding nails into wood.”

“Well, you’re a helluva bass player. I’m sure you can find another band. You must have some money saved from all these gigs.” Unlike me, Bosco only had himself to take care of and worry about.

Bosco’s head dropped slightly. I was reading it as embarrassment. “You don’t have anything saved?” I phrased it as a question, but I already knew the answer. Bosco loved to spend money. When we weren’t working, he was traveling and buying expensive things like cars and three-hundred-dollar shoes.

“I’d lend you some money, but you know where all my earnings go.”

Bosco nodded. His shoulders were slumped in defeat. I could remember a time when he was always laughing and joking and enjoying life. That Bosco had slowly been disappearing, and I hated to see it.

“Man, who’d have thought Bosco and Nash, two of the campus big shots, would have ended up like this?”

I laughed. “Like what? You act like we’re both living in cardboard boxes out on a city sidewalk. The band has done pretty well, and we’ve got a following to prove it. We’ve been packing that bar for our shows. And let’s face it, you’re the top musician in the group. Ronnie can pound a beat well, and Seth’s keyboard skills are good, but you—you’re phenomenal on that bass. Critics are always mentioning your incredible skills in their reviews. You were great at throwing a football, but your talent on the field was nothing compared to your talent on the stage. I think once you put out the word that you’re looking for a new band, you’ll have tons of people contacting you. A new band might just be the fresh start you’re looking for.”

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