Page 27 of Drive
But I was already out the door.
“Hey!” I called to Reid’s back. “Reid!” I yelled into the darkening street as he turned the corner and moved just out of sight. Cursing, I ran after him, sure I was in for another fight or about to eat crow. Catching up with him, he paused his steps as I latched onto his cast, and he looked down at me with impatient eyes.
“What?”
“Well,” I said with a small smile, erasing the imaginary line I’d drawn in the sand between us with my orange Chucks littered with Stone Temple Pilots lyrics, “can I come?”
“It’s practice. We don’t bring best friend’s little sisters to practice, or anyone else for that matter.”
“I’ll be quiet. So quiet, no one will even notice me.”
He hung his head and slowly shook it. “Stella, you’re like a screaming neon sign. Everybody notices you. And no.” He made quick work of throwing off my diligent grip of his arm and took long strides to try to lose me.
“Please!” I called to his back.
“Go back to Paige,” he called over his shoulder.
“Please, Reid. Please! I need something to look forward to!”
He stopped walking, his whole frame tense under a yellow streetlight, and looked back at me. I tried my best to hide my victory smile. I was sweating buckets and hustled to catch up with him while I lifted my hair and tied it back before the lecture began.
“Mute. I want you mute. I’m going to introduce you as mute.”
“Got it.”
We rounded the corner, and at five-foot-five, I struggled as he kept his six-foot-plus pace steady and expertly navigated the streets.
“The band is good. Really good, Reid. How did you guys start?”
“Ben used to sing in a band called Everly. I was in another. We got together after a show at a club we both played at. Neither of us was happy, so we mutated.”
“Mutated. I like that.”
“Yeah,” he said absently. “My ex-girlfriend sang in my old band, but we didn’t work well together.”
“Oh? You didn’t like drumming for her?”
“I loved her voice, hated her style.”
“Is that why she left?”
He pushed his sweat-slicked, ear-length locks away from his face before he glanced at me. I could see the indecision. Either he didn’t want to talk about her or he didn’t want to tell me. Well, maybe it was both.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s not why she left. That was years ago, when she and I first got together. Ben and I started the Sergeants three years ago. He sucked on guitar and I knew a guy. After we jammed a couple of times, we all decided we worked and then our bass came along.”
“Do you miss her?”
Completely off topic, I bit my lips, knowing I better shut the hell up or I’d never find my way back to the restaurant alone. “Sorry,” I said as he glared at me. “Sorry.”
“You should probably ease into the personal questions if you plan on doing this for a living.”
“Technically,” I pointed out, “this isn’t an interview.”
“No, it’s an inquisition,” he said with a twist of his lips.
“What got you playing?”
