Page 17 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

“Are we?” Excitement flickered in Kyle’s eyes as he glanced at me, then at Hunter, then back again.

As I stuffed my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, my heart raced. Was that what we were? A band? Had we moved past just learning and fooling around to become something of unity? But doubt swirled through my head. “Doesn’t a band need a drummer?”

“What about me?” Kyle slapped his hand across his chest. Hurt welled in his eyes.

Hunter grabbed Kyle’s shoulder and gave him a nudge. “Dude, you love the bass more than the drums. You’re much better on the strings.”

“True.” Kyle shrugged, then a huge grin spread across his lips. “Bass kicks ass.”

Claire giggled, shaking her head. “I’ve taught every drummer in this district. No one comes close to being as talented as the three of you. You can advertise for someone if you wish and see who comes forward. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. But for now, you don’t need one. You are so on-point using the loop machine.”

“She has a point.” Rocking on my heels, I gnawed on my lower lip, suddenly timid. “I kinda just like it being us for now.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Hunter smirked. “I don’t need some other shmuck thinking they’re better than me and controlling how we jam. Fuck that.”

“I agree. It’d take someone phenomenal to join us.” Kyle stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. “If we find someone, great. If not, so be it.”

I let out a relieved breath. The three of us were so in tune sometimes it was scary.

Claire grabbed my hand, drawing me into a circle with Kyle and Hunter. “You have something unique. It’s magic. It needs work and development and love and passion. You all have the dream to pursue music. Why not do it together? Make that your dream. Don’t let anyone stand in your way. I love you and will do all I can to help you on that path. Regardless of what you decide, this space is yours.” She squeezed our hands, then kissed Kyle on the cheek and headed for the entrance. She stopped in the doorway and turned to look at us. Love and warning loomed in her eyes. “William will be home in an hour. Kyle, please make sure your friends are gone before then. You know the drill.”

Crap! Was Kyle’s dad drinking again? He seemed to do it more often than not. One day he was awesome and funny, the next...a write-off.

We nodded, and Claire left.

In the middle of the dusty garage, I clutched the guys’ hands. A fire blazed in their eyes, just like the one in my heart. “So, are we doing this? Officially gonna become a band?”

“I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.” Hunter bumped his hip against my side, then plastered on a cocky grin. “Unless some record label offers me a solo deal and then I’m the fuck out of here.”

I giggled. He was such a goofball.

“Nope. Not even then.” Kyle entwined his fingers with mine. His low voice wrapped around my soul. “I want this. But only with you two. As a band. Forever.”

Yeah...I liked Kyle’s way of thinking. “The three of us. Forever. Let’s make it happen.”

“Fine.” Hunter rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re right. It would be lonely at the top without you. Together forever.” His energy soared as he drew us into a hug. “We’re gonna be rock stars.”

“Argh!” we hollered, jumping up and down.

“Well then?” Kyle broke our embrace and clapped his hands together. “Let’s clean up this place.” He took two steps toward the massive mess and stopped. His shoulders slumped as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuck. There is so much shit in here. Where do we start?”

Yep, the task ahead was daunting. But it would be worth it.

He opened the lids of the first storage box and lifted out an old, deflated basketball. “We need to find out what is in each of these. Sort out what we can sell or throw out.” He jutted his chin toward the washing machine. “Those old appliances, I’ll put on Craigslist for free. Someone might want them for parts.”

“All right.” I stepped forward with a spring in my step. “Let’s get to work.”

As we shuffled through the boxes and made piles of sellable items versus trash, the electric vibe between us buzzed through the air. I cherished every smile, every laugh, every joke. I’d found two of the most incredible friends in the universe. We were three like souls with one dream.

I dug into a box of old gym gear. Shorts, shirts, and towels covered the equipment underneath. Ew! I hoped the clothing and towels were somewhat clean. As I tossed a shirt onto the trash pile, I turned to the guys. “If we’re gonna be a band, what are we gonna call ourselves? We need a cool name. Something that’s catchy and easy to remember.”

“The Three Losers.” Hunter smirked, sorting through a cardboard box of knotted Christmas lights.

“The Ashtrays?” Kyle held up a clear glass one out of another box.

“Guys? Be serious.” I tossed a pair of Kyle’s dad’s boxing gloves into a crate to take down to the basement. “We need something kickass. Something that says don’t fuck with us, like Trio of Fighters, or Triple Trouble, or The Three Kickers.”

Hunter grimaced and shook his wavy curls. “No. Those names suck.”

---