Page 15 of Behind the Lights

“I’m good with anything that isn’t playing the cords in order, repeatedly,” Ricky groaned.

And so it began as we learned to play our first song. We played until it was dinner time, after eating I went home and from what Ricky told me, he played until his mom yelled at him that it was time for bed. But that’s how he was, when he found something he was passionate about, he dove in head first and didn’t come out until he’d gotten it wrapped around his little finger. I knew without a doubt that Ricky would be famous someday.

The following week, we started our freshman year of high school. Ricky wanted us to join the school band, but I was reluctant. While I enjoyed playing the guitar, I found I loved singing even more. But band sounded kinda cool and I liked hanging with him, so I went along with it and that was how we met Ethan and Mick.

Ricky and I had a couple of classes together first semester, including lunch since lunch hours were determined by the first letter of your last name. A-L had first hour lunch, and M-Z had second which was where Ethan and Mick ended up. But somehow the four of us wound up in the same Algebra class and of course, we had band together. By the end of week three of the school year, the four of us found ourselves hanging out in Ricky’s garage playing our respective instruments most days after school.

On the Saturday before Christmas, Mary popped in on us out in the garage. Ricky was playing his guitar, I had my headphones on and was singing along loudly to Metallica’sEnter Sandmanwhich was blaring in my ear so I couldn’t hear myself let alone hear her come in the room.

When I looked up, Mary was standing there staring at me and Ricky was grinning. Embarrassed, I removed my headphones, “Sorry guys, was I too loud?”

“No, and you weren’t too bad either. It was just funny to hear you sing with no music playing,” she told me.

“What’s up, Mom?” Ricky asked, setting his guitar aside.

“I need you guys to hang out next door tonight. I’m going to Brett’s employee Christmas party with him and I don’t know what time I’ll be home. I already talked to Joe and he said you guys could stay there.”

“Mom, we’re not babies. We’re thirteen now,” Ricky protested.

“Yes, but if you remember the infamous Stoli incident you’ll understand why I’m reluctant to leave you home at night by yourselves,” she reminded us.

“Ha, that was during the day,” he retaliated.

“Dude, that is so not helping to win our case,” I warned him, but hearing that mentioned again made me smile. Right then I’d decided to start calling Ricky – Stoli from here on out.

“Mom, I swear nothing like that will happen again. Please?” he begged.

“Ugh, let me talk to Joe.” She turned and walked out, I’m guessing to go and talk to my dad.

“Your mom and Brett seem to be going out a lot more lately,” I said, picking my headphones back up.

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool and Mom seems happy when she’s around him.” He started plucking away again.

Mary walked back in. “Joe said he’s fine with that, but he’s next door if you need anything. And stay,” she pointed to Ricky, “out,” her finger turned to me, “of trouble.” She stared us down with her best mom stare.

“Yeah Stoli, stay out of trouble.” I laughed. But being on the receiving end of Mary’s death glare, made me feel like crawling into the nearest corner to hide.

“There’s plenty of leftovers in the fridge. I’ll be home in the morning. No funny business,” she ordered before walking away.

“Stoli huh?” he questioned, “I kinda like it. Sounds sort of badass, like I slayed the vodka dragon or something.”

“However you need to see it, dude. The only dragon I remember you slaying was the one inside the toilet. Ha-ha-ha-ha.” I ducked in an effort to avoid the sponge he’d launched at my head.

After screwing around in the garage for another hour, we went inside, heated up some food and plopped down on the leather couch in their living room to watch a movie. Our usual go to movies almost always involved Harrison Ford. Having the house to ourselves for the night we chose to have aStar Warsmarathon, watching the series in order from start to finish.

The leather on the couch was cold, so we curled up under a blanket and dug into our food with our eyes glued to the tv. It wasn’t like we didn’t have the movies memorized, having watched them easily twenty times, but they were an instant babysitter for us. Once they started, we only paused them long enough for food and bathroom breaks. But at some point, we’d fallen asleep and woke up the next morning to the sweet smell of bacon.

Our bodies had migrated during the night to where my head was in his lap, and his was on my side putting him at an awkward angle.

“Oh, crap my neck.” I sat up, slinging my head from side to side to try and pop my neck to relieve the stiffness in it.

“Ugh,” Ricky stood, stretching his back.

“Boys, breakfast,” Mary hollered from the kitchen.

“Morning,” we muttered, taking our seats at the table.

“Good morning, boys,” she said, placing breakfast burritos in front of us.

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