Oh My God, They Were Roommates

19 | Carry On My Wayward Son

It was another (somewhat) early morning at the coffee shop where the spritely blonde manager returned the flash drive to Ray from over the counter. It had spent the night in her office where her name was marked on a plaque as "Lorel", and was now thoroughly reviewed.

"I don't see why not," she said, propping her hands on her hips.

Ray stared at her, speechless. It took a moment for him to realize that he needed to come up with a response—any response—to ensure her that he was still onboard.

"O-Oh, really?"

Fuck.

Lorel rose an eyebrow at him. "You don't seem all that excited."

Ray shook his head, waving his hands about wildly. "I-I am! Trust me, I really am. My brain just sort of imploded there. I'm—I'm glad you liked my work."

One of Lorel's coworkers asked for her assistance with some packages that were dropped off at the back door. Ray stepped back from the counter as Lorel said, "Take a seat somewhere—I'll be over in a bit to discuss scheduling."

The café itself was small and narrow, and seating was limited, but outside there were a few tables posted out on the sidewalk. He hesitated at the door, though, and glanced back at where Lorel rolled her sleeves up and heaved three boxes of syrup into the air like it was nothing. Ray's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Truth be told, he didn't know a single girl her size with guns like that, holy shit. Ray was damn near jealous.

Ray recovered himself long enough to claim a seat out at one of the sidewalk tables. He studied the flash drive he and Leo had worked on before tucking it into the pocket of his plaid slacks.

When Lorel arrived, she was in the midst of tugging off her apron and folding it over her arm. She took a seat, crossed her legs, and propped an elbow up onto the table. "As you can see, we don't have that much space for equipment, but if you'll be bringing anything—speakers... microphones...—we can make it work."

"Oh, no, I'll just be doing acoustic," Ray confessed, waving his hands. "And I don't—I don't really sing much. I had a sample on there, but with the commotion in a coffee shop I don't know if that will add or detract from the aesthetic."

Lorel smiled at him and said, "You do have a lovely voice, but I agree. You get a pass this time, but one of these days I hope you can sing for us, Ray."

Before Ray could get too flustered, Lorel was on to the scheduling part of their meeting. Since Ray would simply be making commission off of tips from customers, Lorel suggested that he come during rush hour times—in the morning before class or around lunchtime. Ray factored it into his class schedule and decided that he could manage Wednesday mornings without a hitch.

So long as... he woke up on time...

Ray slapped on his brightest smile for class that day and, upon shimmying through the studio door, he caught eyes with Leo and struck a pose.

Leo gasped, throwing his hands down on the tabletop and startling Huey awake. "You got the gig!" Leo said.

Ray broke into a little dance, buzzing with energy, and made his way over to their table. He dropped down, slinging his backpack to the ground beside him, as Leo slapped his arm repeatedly. "She really liked it! I'm gonna be performing next Wednesday morning."

"Oh my God, we'll be there," Leo promised.

"We?" Huey said, groggy. "How early is it."