Brando by J.D. Hawkins Page B

all New York City
reserved anger, “well
now you are.”
    “Brando,”
Lexi pleads, putting a hand on
mine as I stand up, “don’t
go. Please. I don’t
have anyone else right now.”
    “Then
it’s too late,”
I say, pulling my arm away,
“because I do.”
     
    It’s
just a hunch. She’s
not supposed to be at the studio for another couple of hours, and she
has coffee shifts pretty much every day. Still, Josh is staying at
the studio, and at the very least I figure we can share a beer until
she arrives. When I pull up on the path outside the studio, however,
I can hear my hunch is right.
    It’s
loud and raucous. Fast and vibrant. The muffled sound of guitars and
drums emanating from deep within the house. I step out of the car and
make my way inside, the sound getting clearer and louder like a fog
dissipating, dirt being cleaned away.
    She’s
the first thing I notice when I step inside the studio, and she’s
the first to notice me, even though she’s
singing into the mic with every breath in her body, stamping her
feet, playing the hell out of her guitar. Her tight tank top squeezes
her breasts, ripped jeans show the firm flesh of her thighs. I watch
the way she winds her curves, and can almost feel them squeezing
against my hardening cock.
    She
winks at me and smiles, and I can hear her smile in the words.
    I
walk up beside Josh, who’s
rocking his head and watching so energetically from behind the
partition he doesn’t
notice me until I’m
right beside him. When he does he looks at me, he gives a thumbs up.
I nod a reply. We both understand.
    This
is not just good. This is fucking amazing.
    There
are three other musicians in the studio playing, and all of them seem
energized by Haley in the middle, a dancing, powerful, beautiful
presence. Our eyes stay locked together and I begin to realize I’ve
never seen anyone so alive, so sexy, so talented.
    Something
falls into place deep inside of me. I’m
going to make Haley a star. Not for a bet. Not for Lexi. Not even for
myself. I’m going to
do it because she deserves it.

 

Chapter 10
     
    Haley
     
    Coffee
beans being grinded. Radio blaring another bland pop tune. The cash
register that sounds like it’s
from the forties. The same customers having the same conversations
about morning traffic and work. The rush hour shift is nothing if not
consistent.
    “What
can I get you ma’am?”
    “…he keeps changing the set. We’re
nearly at the end of the run, and he’s still moving the walls a little bit to the left, shove the table over
there, put the drawers a little closer…”
    “Would
you like cream?”
    “It’s Death of a Salesman for God’s sake! It’s
not like it hasn’t
been done a million times before! But every night it’s
‘Whoops! Stubbed my
toe again!’ or
‘Whoops! I’m
exiting the stage on the wrong side again!’”
    “Will
that be tall, medio, or venti?”
    “I
think the only reason people are still coming is to see what new,
weird arrangement the set’s
going to be in rather than the actual play.”
    And
that’s when it
happens. Just as I’m
taking a ten dollar bill for a customer’s
medio caramel frappucino with cream. In the middle of Jenna’s
rant about her current play.
    That’s
when my song comes on the radio.
    That’s
when my life changes.
    My
mouth drops open, my body freezes, and then I stiffly turn around to
see that Jenna has done exactly the same. I drop the bill, Jenna
drops the cup she’s
holding, and we scream. Suddenly we’re
in each other’s
arms, jumping to the beat, half-dancing, half-hugging. I gasp over
and over again, as if I’m
flying too high to breathe while Jenna shouts across the coffee shop.
    “This
is my friend’s song!
This is her song playing on the radio!”
    I
freeze again, listening once more to make doubly sure, positive that
it must be a mistake. Another similar-sounding song, a mistake by the
radio DJ, my cd finding its way into the coffee shop stereo. The