Songbird

Six: Colt

It took every ounce of willpower I had to force myself to rehearsal the next afternoon. I still hadn't talked to anyone but Cora and the few lines I'd exchanged with Lennie since my outburst at the bar. I felt still felt like shit. And I know what you're thinking: I deserved to feel like shit. Trust me, you ain't wrong.

I'd finally admitted to myself that I lied when I told her it was a mistake. Something that felt that good, that perfect could never be a mistake, but I wasn't prepared for what it stirred in me. I wasn't prepared for the burning desire. I wasn't prepared for the sudden visions of love and happiness and all the things I had resigned myself to not having a long ass time ago. I wasn't prepared and I panicked.  I panicked because I knew she deserved better than me. She always had. Some day she'd look back and realize that. Some day she'd look back and agree. I would ruin her just like I ruined Rachel and I couldn't do it. I couldn't ruin her.

When I walked into Leon's small studio, I could feel all three sets of eyes glued to me as if waiting for me to fly off the handle. Leon was a local producer, mostly for the church choir and school, but we commandeered his studio when we needed to practice. That weekend was Synder's one hundred and some year celebration and just like we had the last five, we'd be playing the street dance. That was pretty much all this incarnation of Whiskey River did. Town celebrations for various occasions, occasionally a wedding or a birthday party, very rarely a night at Culprit's. It had taken me forever to even pick up a guitar again. Even wanting to be on stage sent me through a self imposed guilt trip. Music had always been my therapy. Anything that was ever wrong, I could fix or at least dull with a song. But ever since Rachel died, it had become yet another thing that just made me feel awful. It took at least six years for Leon to convince me to pick up my six string again, and another one after that for me to play in front of anyone but him. The guilt has lessened a bit, but it was still there, still haunting me.

Everyone would be in attendance this weekend, and I do mean everyone. Wasn't exactly sure how I would handle seeing Lennie, or rather, how she would handle seeing me but I knew that I would have to, and a part of me even wanted to. I wanted to fix what I'd done so badly I could taste it. I just wasn't so sure how to do that quite yet.

"We playing the usual shit at this thing?" Travis asked as Carter silently headed for his drum set.

"Probably," I mumbled.

"You sure?" Carter's voice responded with a definite bite to his tone. He was apparently ready for battle, though why he was upset, I couldn't fucking tell you. The only person in this room that had a right to be upset in my eyes, was myself. "You ain't got any songs to use to make Lennie feel worse than you already have?"

"Knock it off, Carter," Leon commanded in that stern, fatherly tone he had.

"Mind your own business, Jeffries," I snarled.

"Mind my own business, huh?" Carter retorted, completely ignoring Leon's request. "I was trying to help you, you ignorant fuck."

"Help me?!" I shouted, spinning to face him with a fire light by the match his actions had struck. "How the fuck would kissing her HELP me, Carter? How does that even fucking make sense?"

"You finally made a move, didn't you? I mean, you broke her heart directly after, but for a second you had your shit together."

"I didn't break her heart..."

"Yeah, man. That's why she was crying when she left. That's why she sounded like she ain't slept in a week when I talked to her this morning."

"Why the fuck were you talking to her this morning?" I asked, spinning to face him. "You sure you're out to help me? Or you just doing whatever you can to get your own dick wet?"