Smitten - Lauren Rowe Page 0,2
of our song, I was so pumped about how amazing we’d sounded on it, and how bright our musical futures surely were—we were going to become rock stars, yo!—I pulled out three cans of the bubbly green stuff from my backpack to celebrate. You know, like how an actual rock star might pull out a bag of blow or a bottle of Jack. Well, Dax turned down my illicit offering, since his momma’s soda ban had been clearly stated by then, given that Dax was the fifth child in his family. But Colin took my contraband offering, clinked my can with his, and proceeded to chugalug, right along with me . . . just as Momma Lou popped her head through the garage door to tell her darling son it was time for bed.
Well, shit.
When Louise Morgan’s sapphire eyes fixated on the can in Colin’s hand, he immediately pointed at me and shouted, “It was Fish!” Which, sidenote, birthed yet another lifelong joke. To this day, whenever anything goes wrong, Dax or Colin will point at me and shout that same refrain, even when I’m obviously an innocent bystander. But anyway, in that moment, Colin shouted, “It was Fish!”, causing Mrs. Morgan to beeline to me. “Matthew Fishberger,” she said on a fierce whisper. “That’s like putting carbonated battery acid into your growing body. Drink what you want at your own house, honey. But at mine, you need to respect my rules.”
Louise wasn’t the kind of mom who constantly nagged her kids and their friends. In fact, it was the first time I’d ever seen her looking anything but relaxed and happy. And so, as she stood there in front of me, looking disappointed in me, I remember being super bummed. I adored that gorgeous woman—and not as a maternal figure, to be clear. No, I desired her in a highly carnal way. Plus, I genuinely liked her, too—and, therefore, hated the sensation of disappointing her.
I distinctly remember thinking in that moment, “Well, shit, Mrs. Morgan, drinking Mountain Dew can’t be any worse for my ‘growing body’ than the big fat blunt I smoked with your son today after school.” But, of course, I didn’t say that to the woman I wanted to impress. I loved her son dearly and would have died before ratting him out. So, all things considered, I responded by going mea culpa on that gorgeous woman’s ass. I apologized profusely, without dragging Colin into the muck with me, and even went so far as to swear I’d “never” disappoint her again.
“Colin?” I say. He’s been looking out the window of Clive’s office. “Ready to move on?”
Colin returns his attention to the group. And by the look on his face, it’s clear he’s now worked through his irritation and is ready to move on—to turn the page on whatever stupid purchases he was hoping to make with that easy two mill.
“It’s fine,” Colin says on an exhale. “As much as I’d enjoy watching Momma Lou kick Fish’s ass again, I’m sure she’d also kick my ass this time. And I like her thinking I’m Dax’s ‘good influence’ friend while Fish is the bad one.”
We all chuckle at that bit of ass-backwards ridiculousness. Also, at Colin’s implicit confirmation that any sort of genuine schism between the three of us has, once again, been averted.
“Okie doke,” Clive says. “I’ll tell Pepsi the answer is no.” If Clive is disappointed to miss out on his commission, he’s not showing it. He returns to his laptop, his face businesslike and neutral, and says, “Two more quick items, guys, before you head to Reed’s. First, the Seattle Tourism Bureau. They want you guys to shoot a commercial. The money would be nominal. You’d probably want to donate it to a local food bank or whatever. But you’d be in great company. Dave Grohl did a similar spot for them a few years ago.”
Ding, ding. He’s said the magic words. Dave Grohl. He’s one of our idols. A musical god, as far as we’re concerned.
All three of us quickly say we’re in, and Clive runs through the details. Dax mentions he and his wife, Violet, are coincidentally flying home next weekend for his niece’s birthday party, so Clive says he’ll try to arrange the shoot in Seattle for the end of this coming week for ease of logistics.
“That’s great timing for me,” I say. “It’s my mom’s birthday on Saturday. I wasn’t planning to fly up to see her for it, but