When she's not hanging with her best friend, Chelsea, Zoe spends all her time with her pack of zombies, each absorbing their music in isolation. Avoiding the masses is the only pastime she can find the energy for after Dylan destroyed her heart.
Tha...
I actually only barely read music. I can tell the rhythms and if the notes go up or down, but I can't really tell the key it's in. I totally can't read drum tracks to save my life, the notes don't look the same. But even I know that what New Guy is playing is a completely dumbed down version of whatever had been written on the drum tracks. What he is playing is nowhere near as complex as the sheet music had been.
After a few beats, with DF standing stiffly crossing his arms, Roger and Josh join in quietly. The clinger-on hasn't moved much from her spot but she seems irritated in support of her DF boyfriend. Chelsea is still playing on her phone. Meanwhile, I've been transported to an alternate universe where the band I'm in is actually good.
Before I have a chance to add any vocals, which at this point is just a few repeated lines and some ooh's and aah's, Emerson stands up from the drum kit and hands the sticks back to DF.
He literally rolls his eyes while sitting down on his little stool. "I don't know where the fuck this song came from, but don't get attached. This is the first and last time we'll be playing it."
Everyone gets into position as DF counts us off, his favorite thing to do before every single song we play, then makes a half ass attempt at playing along. The song doesn't flow the way it did earlier. It's choppy and loose. It's also obvious to everyone in the room that the weak link in our equation is our DF drummer.
***
After practice, the strangest one we've ever had, I drop Chelsea at her place. I didn't spend any time talking to Emerson about his little ambush while we walked to our cars. It felt like a topic to avoid while still that close to the enemy lines.
Chelsea didn't say much on the drive. But she did wear a smirk the entire time as she scrolled her phone.
"What's with you?" I finally ask as she's getting out of the car. She pauses to look back at me.
"That went well, don't you think?" She's still smirking as she says it.
I shrug. I'm honestly not sure what to make of the whole thing. DF looked constipated after finishing with Emerson's new song. Which, no lie, made it hard as hell to not laugh my ass off, but I'm not positive it will elicit any major band upheavals in the near future.
"Fine. Don't admit it. But we both know it was the perfect storm. Dylan's days are numbered."
Speaking of numbers...
"Um, I had a question about that song Emerson brought. Send me his contact so I can text him later." My tongue feels thick as I ask, knowing full well that Chelsea is about to give me an earful of shit for it.
I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, too. Dammit.
Chelsea looks at me, silently teasing that I like him. I hold her stare and deny it with my eyes. I do not. She purses her lips, challenging my very existence. You do, too. Ah crap, this could go on all afternoon.
The only way to end this is with a glare. So I do. It must catch her off guard because she shudders, giving me just enough time to snatch her phone out of her loose hold. Chelsea doesn't fight me at all while I scroll her contacts and send Emerson's directly to my phone. Done.
I shove her phone back into her grip and then shove her out the door. "Move it, Missy. I've got stuff to do."
"And cute boys to text!" She calls out while laughing as she walks to her door.
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