Page 39 of His Sound
“She’s just a friend.” I sigh and decide to come right out with it. “With a really nice ass.”
“So screw her,” he tells me. “Friends can screw.”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that,” I try to explain. “She has also nice eyes, and a nice smile, and she does this cute thing with her hair when she’s nervous. She’s really smart too, and she’s so talented. She makes these drawings, and they’re like...like nothing you’ve ever seen before, Alain.She’slike nothing you’ve ever seen before.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad,petit frère. Just ask her out already. You’re in a famous band; she’s not going to say no.”
“But that’s the thing!” I protest. “I think shewouldsay no. We have these like...moments, you know? Where we’re staring at each other and something just...shifts, and I know she feels it too. Iknowshe does, but she keeps pulling back for some reason.”
“Maybe she’s just scared. Maybe you need to make the first move.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. She’s also got something on with a guy at her work. It’s not serious—at least, I don’t think it is—but she mentions him to me and stuff. Would she do that if she was actually interested in me?”
Alain shrugs. “Maybe she’s trying to make you jealous?”
I bristle. “No, Molly wouldn’t play games like that. She’s not that kind of person.”
Alain laughs beside me, nudging my arm and gesturing for me to follow him across the road. We’re walking up Rue Saint-Catherine, a street that runs the length of central Montreal and cuts straight through the heart of downtown. Like everywhere in this city, Saint-Catherine is a mixed-up combination of sketchy and stylish, business and bohemian. Brand name boutiques, dingy bars, high rise office buildings, and blacked-out windows with signs promisesdanseuses: this street has it all.
“Why are you laughing?” I snap when he continues cackling like a super villain.
“It’s just...”Voyons, the fucker can’t even talk he’s laughing so hard. “It’s just...just...you’re like,seriousabout this girl. You really are. You’re all pissed about this. When do you even get pissed about anything? You just laugh shit off and move onto whatever’s next. It’s like you’re, I don’t know, acting in some TV show right now. This isn’tyou.”
“I didn’t say it wasserious,” I argue. “I just like her, okay?”
Alain seems to sober up when I go quiet. “Look,petit frère, this is what your big brother thinks you should do: just tell her. If you believe she’s the kind of girl who doesn’t play games, then don’t play games with her either. Just tell her how you feel, and if she keeps wanting to see some other guy, then whatever, but at least you’ll know. It’s always better to know than to wonder.”
I don’t know what fortune cookie he pulled that out of, but it strikes a chord. Either I sit around waiting for an answer I’ll have to face eventually, or I go out and get it over with now.
I start to slow-clap. “Alain Bouchard-Guindon, ladies and gentlemen. The Love Doctor has left the house.”
He gives me the finger, but he’s smiling. “Love Doctor—maybe that’s how I should introduce myself to all the girls in Thailand.”
“No love,” I warn him. “If you come back married,Papais going to freak the fuck out.”
“If you show up at the Christmas gala with an English girl,Papais going to freak the fuck out,” he shoots back, “and you know if you don’t bring a ‘suitable’ date, he’ll find you one.”
“Whatever.”
I don’t want to think about my dad right now. In fact, I can’t think of a single time when I actuallywouldwant to think about him.
“You really think I should tell her?” I ask Alain, scratching my chin as we pass by the crowds going in and out of Simons.
“Yeah, and as soon as possible,” he agrees. “Today, if you can.”
Today.
I could make that happen. I don’t know where his wisdom came from, but Alain might be right about this. Playing games and dropping hints, dancing around something I want like amauditballerina because I don’t have the balls to go after it—that’s not my style.
I’m more of a jump now, worry about the rocks at the bottom later kind of guy. At least, I usually am. Molly has me thinking about those rocks for the first time in awhile, but it might be too late for that. I might already be in the air.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I announce. “As soon as you leave for the airport, I’ll go over to her house.”
* * *
Molly and Stéphanie’sbuilding doesn’t have a buzzer, or even a lock on the main door. I walk right into the coffin-sized entryway and take the creaking steps two at a time. I have to squeeze up against the wall when I meet a bald guy with a giant Doberman coming down the stairs. This place really is creepy.
I came straight over here after watching Alain get on a bus to the airport. I probably should have texted, but I was only a few blocks away, and I figured I’d check if Molly was home. I hear voices behind the apartment door when I knock and wonder if Ace is over here too.
