Listen To Me - Kristen Proby Page 0,8
matter.
And why in the fuck does it matter to me anyway? Jesus, has it really been that long since I got laid?
“I’ll see you Friday night.”
“Yes, you will,” she replies and immediately turns her back on me, sauntering back to the bar in those amazing fuck-me heels, her ass swaying the whole way.
I can’t wait to see her Friday night.
I wave at Red and walk back out the way I came. The restaurant is filling up with lunch patrons. When I hit the sidewalk outside, I call Christina.
“Miss me already?” There’s a smile in her voice.
“Desperately. And, I think I just got a job.”
“You went?” She squeals and then relays the information to her husband, Kevin, before returning to me. “And you got the job?”
“Of course I got the job.”
“Did the manager recognize you?”
“Yes, but something tells me I got the job despite my music history, not because of it.”
“Interesting. I like her already.”
“So do I.”
THE DRIVE TO my home west of Portland via the Sunset Highway only takes about thirty minutes from downtown. That’s one of the things that I love about this city: you can go from bustling city to lazy suburb in just half an hour.
I bought a house on three acres in the rolling hills outside of Hillsboro about four years ago. It’s gated, and monitored closely by security. The main house is bigger than I’ll ever need, but it was the pool and, most important, the pool house that made me fall in love with it.
I love to swim, and I work out in the pool every single day I’m home. My best friend, and cofounder of Hard Knox, Max Bishop and I converted the pool house into a full studio and partnered up to begin Hard Knox Productions. Since starting business two years ago, I’ve had everyone from U2 to Usher in my studio, laying down tracks, writing songs.
Making music.
The music feeds my soul and has since I was nine and got my first guitar for Christmas. It’s a magic I haven’t been able to duplicate or replace with anything else. And for a little while, when I thought I’d abandon music altogether, it felt like I was living in purgatory.
A necessary purgatory, but fuck, how it hurt.
I park and jog around back, bypassing the house altogether, and am not surprised to find Max already at work when I walk into the studio.
“You’re late,” he mutters, then bites his pencil and tickles the keys of the baby grand in the corner that looks out over the pool.
“I got a job,” I announce and lean on the piano, reading the music lying in front of Max.
“Who’s coming now? I thought Maroon 5 had to postpone, since Adam has to tape the auditions for his show.”
“No, a regular gig job.”
His head jerks up, and for just a moment, there is so much hope in his eyes, it makes my chest hurt. “You got the band a gig?”
“No.” I shake my head and stare at the top of the piano. “There’s a new restaurant in town that needs a weekend musician. I’m going to do it.”
Max doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Who are you?”
“I was thinking it might be fun for you to come with me sometimes. We can perform some acoustic versions of some of the old songs. Show off our harmonies.”
“Are you sick? Should I call an ambulance?”
“Fuck you,” I reply and turn to walk away. I don’t need his shit. I should probably call Addie and tell her I’ve changed my mind. This is a ridiculous idea.
“Jake,” he says. “Talk to me. You hate to perform.”
“No, I just can’t perform the way we did,” I reply and turn around, hands in my pockets. “It almost destroyed my life once. And I’m sorry that when I lost it, so did you.”
“I didn’t have to,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I’ve been offered other lead guitar gigs in other bands. You know that. I don’t want to do it without you.”
“Let’s not talk about our feelings. We’re dudes.”
“Tell me about this gig. What made you decide to look into it?”
“Christina told me about it and asked me to.” I drop into a leather couch and sigh, my head leaned back on the cushion, and stare at the ceiling. “I love producing and writing with you. I don’t miss touring. I don’t miss the booze or the girls. We still have the same friends, and we still make music, so I have nothing to complain about.”
“What do