Page 46 of His Sound
“Fucking hell, I love you.”
He leans through the frame to cup her cheek and give her a quick kiss. I rip my gaze away to keep from staring.
“Hmm. Let me think about this.” When I turn back, Ace is looking me up and down with his arms crossed. “Iron Maiden...Oh! ‘Teenage Dirtbag.’ Shit, that’s clever.”
“Yeah, unlike you,” Stéphanie teases. “Slashagain?”
He starts leading us over to a waiting car. “Whatever. It works.”
Stéphanie and I share the back seat while Ace sits beside the driver. We take off towards Hochelaga. The party is happening at the Metro Records office.
“Your date couldn’t pick you up?” Stéphanie asks me, as we pass by sidewalks flooded with devils and witches.
Paul and I are going to the party ‘together.’ We’d both be going anyway, but he made a point of asking to be my date. I thought things were cooling off between us; we haven’t seen each other outside work since I turned down the offer to visit his apartment. When he plopped a coffee down on my desk yesterday and asked what time he should pick me up, it took me a minute to realize what he was talking about.
He bailed on picking me up half an hour ago.
“He’s pre-ing with some friends and might be late for the party,” I explain. “He told me he didn’t want to make me late too, and that I should just go ahead.”
I think that’s what his texts meant. There were more than a few typos.
Stéphanie raises her eyebrows.
“It’s fine,” I say breezily. “He’s not my—like, my boyfriend, or anything. We don’t need to make an entrance.”
We’re showing up fashionably late to the party ourselves. The renovations are almost complete, and all the office furniture has been pushed up against the walls to clear a dance floor. There are fake cobwebs stretched across the ceiling, and someone even replaced a few of the light bulbs with black lights, giving the place a creepy glow.
Everyone pitched in to fund the open bar—which is less of a bar and more a huge pile of beer cases—so with the drinks already flowing, people have begun to bust a move, writhing around to indie pop anthems in their music-themed costumes. I spot the whole marketing team dressed up as the girls from Justin Bieber’s ‘Sorry’ video, and catch sight of Shayla and her girlfriend dressed respectively as Wayne and Garth fromWayne’s World.
“Over here!”
The three of us turn to find Matt Pearson waving from the other side of the room. I trail behind Ace and Stéphanie, not really sure if the invitation is meant for me too.
Matt is standing with his girlfriend, Kay, who’s whispering something to the girl I now recognize as Roxanne. Cole Byrne is slouched against the wall next to them.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop referring to them by their full names. It’s like trying to call Ed Sheeran just Ed or something. I scan the room for JP, but he’s nowhere in sight.
“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” Ace asks Matt.
He’s wearing a sock monkey hat, a parka, ski gloves, and a thick scarf.
“Arctic Monkeys!” I blurt. “Good one.”
I can feel myself going red when I realize I’ve spoken out loud, but Matt grins and claps me on the shoulder.
“Finally! Someone I don’t to have to explain it to.”
Everyone takes a turn having their costume admired. Matt guesses mine as quickly as I guessed his. The group grumbles about Ace going as Slash again, and claps when Roxanne and Kay spin around to show off their matching outfits. They’re wearing trench coats over tight miniskirts, with name tags that have the word Kitty crossed out and replaced with Karen: ‘Short Skirt/Long Jacket’ by Cake.
Cole is wearing his normal street clothes, aside from a kid-sized toy bass strung around his neck. It has a piece of paper taped to it with nothing but ‘x2’ written in black marker.
“And you?” Ace asks him. “You’re...What the hell are you, Cole?”
His face remains as stoic as ever when his deep voice rumbles out. “I’m a double bass.”
There’s a split second of silence before we all nearly kill ourselves laughing. It would be a lame costume on anyone else, but his deadpan delivery makes it hilarious.
“Where’s JP?” Stéphanie asks, voicing the question that’s been on my mind since we walked through the door.
