Piano Man

The Rock Show

Lyla's Pov

November 1988

It happened two days after spilling lemonade on the rich dude. I was listening to My Abbey Road record. I was lying staring at the ceiling fan that was spinning around and then around again. I waited for something to happen. I wanted Tre, Billie, or Mike. To call me, anyone to come and ask me to hang out. I was bored out of my mind. My room was clean for the first time in months. I had done the dishes, moped the kitchen, and vacuumed the upstairs. Hell, I even wiped the walls with bleach. I had nothing else to do because I couldn't write. I had, had writer's block ever since the week before we played Gilman. I mean there was so much going on to write about but when I went to put pen to paper it sounded like shit to me. Then it happened.

Ring Ring Ring

"Hello, This is the Mancini's, Lyla speaking."

"So, it's Ms. Mancini?"

"Who is this?"

I hadn't a clue who the Joe Smoe on the other line was. I hope my mother wasn't eavesdropping.

"Some guy that you met."

"What the hell does that mean."

Who was this dude and why was he acting like a certified prick? God if my mother heard even the first minute of this phone call I would be dead.

"Why don't you try and guess who I am."

What was this guy on? Did he think we were playing a game of some sort? Then it hit me who would have this number, but how could he have remembered? The room was noisy and his friends were practically wanking his ears.

"Oh, I think I know who you are."

"Do you?"

"I do."

"Well I wanted to properly give you a call-"

"A few days late huh?"

"I'm a busy guy."

"Is that so?"

I felt like I was a more powerful person over the phone. I wasn't being stared into the same way, I was in person. I felt stronger, more brave.

"It is."

"Well, go on. I think that you have something you were calling to say."

"What if I just called to chat?"

He had a pouting tone under it all. Like a whining baby begging for attention. It was kind of sweet, it wasn't to the point of being so annoying that I wanted to strangle him. Billie often acted like a whiney baby when drunk, which was kind of sweet but then he could flip a switch and act like a total dick. So you knew that it was still Billie.

"Oh really chat about what?"

"Maybe I called to ask you about your writing and your band?"

I heard my squeaky door open. I turned and looked to see my mother standing there with a laundry basket of my clothes.

"Lyla Io... oh, la tua stanza è pulita per una volta" "Lyla I- oh your room is clean for once."

My mother still speaks Italian sometimes at home. She wanted to be bilingual as it would help me academically and keep the tradition alive.

"Basta Basta Mami!" "Leave it mama!"

"Who are you on the phone with?"

"Billie!"

I snapped his name right back at her, I didn't need her to question who I was on the phone with. Despite my mother never knowing I frequently stayed the night at his house and was extremely close with his mother. She knew that I was close friends with Billie Joe.

"Non c'è bisogno di arrabbiarsi, tesoro." "No need to get upset baby."

"Grazie." "thank you."

She shut the door and left a basket of laundry by the corner near my door. I rolled onto the floor with started to fidget with the phone cord.

"So she speaks Itialan?"

"She does."

"Her mother is from Italy?"

"She is in fact from the motherland."

I said the "Motherland" with extra emphasis. Thinking that maybe he would find it funny, but mostly I did it to make myself laugh.

"Well, does this girl want to tell me her name, because I can't seem to recall it."

"Lyla, Lyla Mancini."

"Ahh, So she is Italian."

"Italilan and catholic. Now tell me, what is this boy's name?"

"Ryan James."

"Wow, another guy with two first names."

"You know a lot of two first-name guys?"

"No, but it's funny to say."
"Ahh, so she's a writer and a comic?"

"Maybe."

"Well, this girl seems pretty great."

"She is."

I was getting bored of this back-and-forthness, I wanted him to just ask me out already. Maybe I was just a lesbian wanting to be swept away in my U-haul and married right there on the third date.

He sat there on the other end silent for a moment so I decided to speak again.

"Do you wanna ask me something?"

"Do you want me to ask you something?"

God just ask me already this is exhausting waiting for him to do something.

"Yes, for god sake just ask already."

"Would you-"

"Yes!"

"Would you like to go to Gilman together? I mean when neither of us is preforming?"

"Well I'll never perform but yes."

"Well, you know what I mean when your band and my band aren't tat he performance."

I could almost hear the eye roll. I was imagining him in my mind. His old money look. The brown hair and the stubble. He was wearing, at least in my mind, an Operation Ivy hoodie and a pair of blue jeans. He was wearing an un-old-money look but somehow something about him just brought it in. I imagine him in this great big house with rich parents and the perfect upbringing of being not an only child but maybe having an older sister or younger brother, someone else for mom and dad to worry about every once and a while. He in my mind had the perfect life.

"Yes, that would be nice."

"Does Saturday work?"

"Yeah, I'm not busy."