Play With Me - Brittany Cournoyer Page 0,11

to get home?”

I shook my head. “I walk, so my mom won’t mind as long as I’m home in time to do homework and eat dinner.”

“Okay, then let’s get started.”

It wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be and it took a lot of work on my part and patience on his, but he saw something in me—potential and passion. And finally, after weeks of feeling discouraged by the difficulty but always encouraged by my teacher, I finally got it. From that point on, I was hooked and continued to play all through school and even after I graduated. While some people dubbed me a “band geek” I noted how when it was time for me to do solos, all eyes were on me. That’s when I knew I had an ace in my back pocket. Playing the sax was a magnet to getting laid. And I used it to my advantage more than a few times over the years.

But life happened, and I got busy working and had little time to enjoy playing the sax. I’d still pull it out a few nights a week to make sure I didn’t get rusty with it, but playing to a piece of furniture wasn’t nearly as fun as playing to a crowd. Then one day I was browsing a website for a part to my motorcycle and came across an ad for a local jazz band looking for a new sax player. Since I worked five days a week as a mechanic, I knew I didn’t have time to join a band. But as I scrolled past to find the part I needed, I kept going back to the ad, and I found myself sending a message of interest before I could stop myself.

I included my credentials—middle school and high school band geek, and sax player extraordinaire, but didn’t expect to get a call back. A few hours later, I received a call from a number I didn’t recognize. Imagine my surprise when a man introducing himself as Maverick Wheeler asked if I’d be interested in auditioning for their band.

I wanted to scoff and tell him this wasn’t a big-league thing where I needed to audition for anyone, but I refrained. Starting off on the wrong foot wasn’t the way to go, especially if I wanted to play with them—not that I did. It was a spur of the moment thing. But I set up a time and found myself meeting him and the other guys at Maverick’s apartment where I showed them what I could do. I wasn’t a conceited person, but I knew what I was capable of, and playing the sax was where I excelled most.

I wasn’t nervous when I played for them—the solo from Smooth Operator by Sade—but when I was done Maverick’s pensive stare had me questioning my abilities.

And after quietly conferring with the other guys, he asked me one thing when he spoke. “When can you join us?”

That was a little over a year ago, and I’d been playing with them ever since. I shuffled clients and reworked my schedule at the shop to make time for them, and I was glad at my impulse to reply to their ad. They had become my best friends and it was a great change of pace to play with them. I was working with my hands in a different way and not getting grease under my nails in the process.

“Hey, Stellan are you with us?”

I shook my head, coming back to the present after my little trip to the past. “Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about something.”

“Everything okay? You’ve been acting weird today,” Baylor asked.

“I’m fine. Just working on this car at the shop that’s been a pain. The parts are old but also foreign, so getting them hasn’t been easy.”

He snorted. “Better you than me. I’ll stick to my paper pushing at the car lot any day.”

“And I’ll let you. That isn’t my jive, and you know it. I like to work with my hands and get them dirty.”

“There are plenty of ways to get them dirty, and not with just grease,” he reminded me as he wiggled his eyebrows, letting me know he meant it as the innuendo I took it for.

“I’m well aware and have done that plenty of times.”

“All right, well I need to get going. It’s pot roast night at my parents’, and if I show up late, they won’t save me any rolls,” Weston announced as he stood.

The other guys followed