Page 53 of Fire
By the fourth block, I’ve dropped nearly a hundred dollars, and I’m happy to do it. There is some incredible talent on these streets. But the world seems to go on around them, barely stopping for a moment or two before wandering off again. This kind of art should be treasured. Appreciated. Preserved.
Zara has been quiet for most of this time, but she finally turns to me. “You really love music, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I really fucking do.”
A church bell rings in the distance as a streetcar passes. “Have you always wanted to be a musician?”
“Not always, no,” I answer, taking a sip of my coffee. “At one point, I was like any other kid and wanted to be an astronaut or a fireman. But that Creed DNA eventually kicked in, and I found my way to the bass.”
“So is everyone in your family musically inclined?”
A large tour group is headed our way, and I grab Zara’s hand and pull her close. “No. Well, yes.”
“Which one is it?” She laughs.
“It’s both, I guess you could say. We all have the ability, but not all make use of it. My older brother, Cash, for example. He’s an incredible pianist, but you’ll rarely see him play.”
“Why?” she asks, not seeming to mind that I haven’t let go of her hand. I keep it there. It’s nice.
“I don’t know, honestly. He once told my mom he fell out of it because he was simply too busy. He’s got a demanding job, and being a single dad…”
“But you don’t think that’s the reason.”
I shrug. “Seems like an excuse. If you really love something, you find the time. Youmakethe time.”
Her expression falters, and I know, without asking, that my words have somehow affected her. It’s like watching the light in a room dim. I hate knowing I made her sad. But what I hate even more is the asshole who gave her a reason to be sad.
Fucking Tanner.
She hasn’t mentioned him much, and I wonder how he’s taken to the news that she is going on tour with someone he despises.
I round the corner into the kitchen but stop short when I hear a familiar laugh.
Fucking Tanner Price.
Last time he was here, I had to listen to him brag about how he fucked another one of his TAs. When I told Edwin I didn’t want him over here again, he said, “He’s my friend, Hendrix. We go way back. I can’t just cut ties with him. Our parents hang out.”
That was several months ago, so I was sort of hoping he’d reconsidered my request and kicked the guy to the curb.
Guess not.
“Why do you even put up with him, Edwin?” Tanner says in that condescending tone I can’t stand.
“What do you mean?”
“You could be living with us in the house my parents bought, but instead you’re slumming it with Hendrix Creed?”
“I’m not slumming it,” he snaps. And just when I think he’s gonna defend me, he says, “My parents bought me this house. It’s twice as nice as yours.”
“And you choose to share it with him? He shouldn’t even be allowed to shine your damn shoes, let alone share a kitchen with you.”
Damn. You’re hurting my feelings. I roll my eyes and walk away. I don’t need to hear what else Tanner Price thinks about me. Edwin and I have plans. Big plans, and nothing he says is going to get in the way of that.
We’re going places, and in a few years, I won’t even remember his name.
Can’t say the same for him.
Neither of us has forgotten the other’s name. I sneak a glance at Zara.
