It's not difficult in L.A. to find an aspiring manager. I pick a lady named Becky in her early thirties who excels in finding the biggest hoop earrings for the cheapest price. Once I have her, I call back Zack and let him know I'm ready to sign.
"Band name?"
"Alpenglow."
"Unique. I like it. Anyway, you're going to have to find the rest of your band too. We'll hold auditions in a week."
"Right."
"I look forward to it."
I end the call and return to the cold coffee in front of me.
"Whatcha thinking about," Becky asks, sipping on her tea.
I shrug in response.
"I like your personality. It'll really work well with your look."
"Thanks."
"Are you thinking at all about your sound."
"Violin."
She's hesitant. "Don't you think that's a bit... Dull?"
"I think it's somber and heavy."
"Some thing."
"Not really."
"Is there anything else you'd like?"
"I can play everything else."
"You can't play violin?"
"I can."
"Then why a violinist?"
"We need a cute boy to gain attention."
Becky grins. "I like the way you think."
"Now, the problem is, what kind of cute are we looking for? Dark and mysterious or adorable and innocent."
She frowns. "What about the music?"
"No one cares about the music unless you're cute, gay, or relatable. I'm just trying not to be a no-hit nobody like everyone else in this country. Passion and dedication get you nowhere."
"That's not really the attitude-"
"Didn't you just say it suits me? Anyway, I'm not saying I don't love music."
But it's really hard to when you feel like nothing is worth investing in anymore.
~
The guy I decide on is from Japan, so I don't have to worry about talking to him much. Especially since he's still learning English. He was by far the best player and most attractive. He's a sophisticated, quiet cute.
"What's his name again?" I ask Becky while he talks with Zack.
"Souma."
I hum in response.
Zack's brother interrupts us, flinging an arm around my shoulder. "Hey! Congrats on the band! Celebratory drinks?"
"Sure. Souma!" I wave him over. "Drinks?"
He replies with two thumbs up. "Yah!"
I roll my eyes. "You're like an anime. Let's go."
"I'll invite the rest of my band," He says when Souma turns to Becky to invite her.
~
We end up at a place I've never been to, but always heard of. It's called Lucifer's. The owner even refers to himself as the devil, apparently. I'm sure that will go over well when he's burning in hell. Anyway, He shakes hands with the devil himself before leading us inside to be swallowed up be the sea of hot, grinding bodies. I make way to the bar, wishing I wasn't so short or small-breasted. Maybe with huge tits I could get some attention."
"Problem?" He asks over the blaring music.
I turn to the familiar voice. "I just want to get drunk."
He grins, showing off a dimple. "Don't know why you're wasting your time here when you could be with everyone else in the VIP lounge."
"You never told me about it."
"I just did."
He takes my hand and pulls me through the crowd and up a set spiral stairs. I'm led behind a velvet rope into a room defined by the smell of narcotics and alcohol.
"My kind of party," I reply.
He pulls a joint out of his pocket. "Welcome to hell."
We make home at a velvet couch in the corner.
"Your real name isn't really Ammie, is it?" He asks.
I shrug.
"Are you hiding?"
"You could say that."
"What are you hiding from?"
My mistakes.
"Get me drunk enough and I might tell you."
He doesn't. Instead, we talk about music until it's four in the morning and high enough to shake hands with God. Then we talk about how weird it would be if cheese was the same texture as jello. At five, Souma jumps on the table in front of us and strips to his underwear, calling Him Senpai. At six I decide it's time to leave, so He drives me home.
My high crashes when I see the new stack of letters on my counter. Instead of reading them, I gather them up, pop back to the UK.
I'm back on that hill where I first kissed Fred. I sit in the dew covered grass as the sun just barely peaks over the hill-covered horizon. The bottom few letters soak up the moisture when I drop them on the ground.
I throw a match on them, and they burn. I burn away the last bit of doubt. I burn away the idea of returning. I burn away the memories until they are nothing but ashes and singed grass on a painful memory.
~
There's a reason He doesn't have a name.
Let's see if anyone can guess before the end of the book.
