Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Chord

EMERSON

Riptide // Vance Joy

Once our duet is over, band practice continues. Dylan doesn't talk much once he declares I'm in the band, at least not directly to me. He just seems to bark out commands about songs.  And everyone does what he wants without comment or complaint.

I notice two things right away about Dylan: he's got an obsession with Echosmith and he can't follow sheet music to save his life.

Shit, this guy sucks as both a band leader and a drummer. I shake my head as we wind down the last song, which is supposed to have a cymbal on the down-beat, but he's playing it on the up. It's written as an off-beat pattern, but he's playing with the rhythm instead of against it. This guy is driving me fucking nuts, but I keep my mouth shut. I'm will not do anything to piss him off, not yet. That day will come. It has to, because I realize with sudden clarity that there is no way this band can be anything more than mediocre, as long as he is a part of it.

But with Zoe... I look at her standing on the stage, the microphone cradled in her hands. Zoe has so much talent and that talent deserves to shine in a band that can complement her, not drag her down.

We have not sung another note together since that first duet. The moment he declared I could stay Dylan had motioned for me to take my bass and make space for myself over in the corner. And since then my strategy has been to play what I was told and to act clueless, act like an idiot asking questions like I did about his band name. I should have told him the Dylan Protocol is a dumb as fuck band name, but I curbed my natural inclinations towards high handed assholes and instead I played along. And it has worked so far. After all, here I sit in the band playing my bass, an instrument he's declared unnecessary. 

"Alright, let's call it. I've got a masterpiece to finish, right babe?" Dylan looks over to his flavor of the month, the girl who's been eye-fucking him during the entire rehearsal.

I see Zoe suddenly tense up. She is standing there alone on stage trying very hard not to look in Dylan's and his girl's direction.

Dylan rushes forward and grabs his girl in a big hug and then he swings her around and gives her a long and passionate kiss.

He is a piece of shit, alright, as Chelsea declared earlier today. What an ass, acting like that in front of the girl he just dumped.

When they come up for air Dylan's girl says breathlessly, "D, I can hardly wait to see how your new painting turns out." The girl sends a smug look towards Zoe's way.

I don't know Dylan's girl's name, but I do know her type. She just wanted to land a trophy and she's too stupid to realize he's no prize. More like an anchor tied to her future. Best thing to happen to Zoe is that piece of shit breaking up with her. But I wonder if Zoe sees it that way.

Zoe is silent as she steps off the stage and snatches her bag off the floor. She bolts out the side door without a backward glance, declaring, "See you losers next practice." Letting the door slam behind her.

God, she's sexy. I love her fire. I start to unhook my bass and bend down to pack it up when I feel Chelsea step in close. Part of me bristles at the close contact. I'm not into her and I don't want to give off the wrong impression as she leans closer, pressing her mouth near my ear. I glance over at her and see that she's looking around at the rest of the band, not at me. Ah, she's not snuggling up, she's telling me something in private. My nerves ease up and I put my focus into her whispered words.

"Be gentle with my girl, she's fragile RN. Cause if this blows up, she'll never forgive me."

RN? I think she means, right now. Dang this chick talks like a chat group. But, fragile—that's a no. Not what I saw, anyway. Most of practice Zoe looked like a warrior, not a breakable wuss. I was honestly scared for a minute when she started growling. And turned on. No two ways about it, Zoe is hot.