Page 58 of Your Echo
16I’m On Fire || Bruce Springsteen
ACE
“Mais c’est une tradition,Ace! It’s a tradition, man. You can’t bail.”
JP waves his harmonica at me like it’s a weapon of mass destruction. We’ve just wrapped up a morning rehearsal session in the basement to review our set forLa Rentrée. Stéphanie’s dance show is tonight. It completely slipped my mind that today also marks the anniversary of the night Matt and I asked JP to join our band.
Sherbrooke Station didn’t even have a name yet, and it took us another month after finding JP to get Cole on board, but that was the night the band became more than just an idea in Matt and I’s heads. We saw JP performing at an open mic, and we knew we had to have him. The guy is a crazy motherfucker, but he’s also one of the best musicians I’ve ever heard.
For the next two years, we went back to the same bar and did a song at the open mic to mark the anniversary. The place got turned into a KTV bar after that, but JP still makes us keep going back. Photos of him standing shirtless on stage with some Korean businessmen hang our rehearsal room walls to this day.
“I told you, I have something on,” I repeat.
“So cancel it. It’s karaoke time, bitches!”
JP reaches for the bottom of his shirt, and Matt yells at him to keep it on.
“Mais pour de vraie,” JP continues, “what is more important than this? Onlyreallynice boobs could be more important than this.”
I haven’t told the guys about Stéphanie yet—not even Matt. Whatever is happening between her and I feels too fragile to put into words, like I’m walking around with a bomb in my hands.
“Wait a minute.” Matt’s watching me carefully. “Isthis about some really nice boobs?”
“Your mother has really nice boobs,” I shoot back, pulling my guitar strap back over my head.
Matt clutches his chest. “Wow, I’m really insulted. You’ve wounded me so deeply I can’t even pay attention to the fact that you’re dodging my question.”
“I’m going to a show, okay?” I mutter.
“Perfect!” JP shouts. “We’ll all go to the show, andthenwe’ll go to karaoke!”
He grabs a microphone that’s lying around and starts singing ‘My Heart Will Go On’ in the world’s most disturbing falsetto.
“I am really starting to regret inviting Kay tonight,” Matt groans, watching the performance. “At least she’ll have Roxy for moral support.”
“Roxanne isn’t coming tonight.”
We all turn to look at Cole. He’s sitting on one of the beaten-up couches, bass still resting in his lap, and staring at the outdated carpet like he’s hoping a black hole will appear in the fabric to swallow him up.
“Here comes breakup number seventeen,” JP whispers.
Cole glares at him. “You know I can hear you, right?”
JP vaults over the back of the couch and lands on the cushion next to Cole. “Sorry, man. That’s rough. Look, let’s just all have a good time tonight. Screw everything else. We’ll go see whatever show Ace wants to go to, and then we’ll fuck around at KTV. It will be great.”
“What show is it?” Matt asks me.
There’s no way around this. I know they’re not going to let it drop.
“It’s, uh, a dance show.”
* * *
I’m surprised noone has called the cops on us yet. The suburban families waiting in the lobby are staring at us like we’re escaped convicts. I guess in their eyes, we look the part. In the sea of khakis and polo shirts, our dark jeans and tattoos stand out just as much as orange jumpsuits would. Even Kay is getting dirty looks for her Nirvana shirt and Converse. She’s one of the only women not in a dress.
“Remind me why we’re here again?” she asks, sliding her glasses father up her nose as she inspects the program in her hands.
“Because Ace isen amour!” JP shouts, earning us a few more death glares.
