Book 2: She's Out To Please (Duff McKagan FanFic)

Ch. 8: Sounds Great

We strolled side by side, our shoulders brushing every so often. If I was lucky, our hands would even brush on occasion. When that would happen, we both would take a step away from one another, only to somehow end up touching fingers once more.

We had left the school behind, the bell tower just barely visible over some palm trees as we headed towards the downtown area. Every so often, I would sneak a peek at her through the corner of my eye. Every time I would catch her gazing up at the sky, a serene smile on her face.

How did she always manage to stay so cool?

It was a refreshing thing to see, considering I was always having some sort of anxiety over something. Panic attacks came and went. But Mary didn't even seem to care that she had just skipped choir practice to walk around downtown LA with some random guy she had known for only a couple of days. She had more of the rockstar attitude than I did.

"Why are you wearing Buck's old uniform?" Mary asked, finally breaking the silence that had lingered between us. "I thought your name was Michael."

"My name is Duff, okay?" I corrected her, putting a cigarette to my lips and lighting it. "And why do you think?"

I knew I was coming off as an asshole, but I had an image to uphold. I was a rockstar, and Mary was a hot girl. I needed to impress her, but now I knew that I needed to take it up a notch by being just as sarcastic and careless as she. Because, after the few short conversations I'd had with her, I realized that she was right. For being a rockstar, I was pretty damn lame. I wanted to prove her wrong so badly. Then maybe she'd be as interested in me as I was in her.

She shrugged. "It compliments your figure?"

I rolled my eyes as she erupted into giggles. "Good one. You're a goddamn comedian."

"And you're a janitor," she teased, poking my ribs softly. I ignored the way my stomach lurched at her touch.

"A damn good one at that," I commented, taking a drag of my cigarette.

"Not really," she began, with a snort. "You would have burned down the school if it wasn't for me. Didn't anybody tell you that you're not allowed to smoke in there? Not that they should have to if you have any common sense."

Ouch. But when I glanced over at her and saw the grin on her face, I knew that she was only teasing me.

"Besides, you should quit anyway. Smoking kills, you know," she jokingly scolded me, shaking her finger in my face.

"Yeah, well you'd start smoking too after the day I've had," I told her, laughing and swatting her hand away from my face.

"Oh? Is life so hard for big, bad Duffy?" Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout as she spoke. I resisted the urge to lean forward and nibble on it.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Actually, it is! I had to clean mouse shit all day yesterday and then I got the lovely task of scraping a shit ton of gum off of-"

"Sister Susan's desk?" Mary finished for me.

I nodded dumbly, my eyes growing wide. "How'd you know that?"

She giggled. "The whole class watches her do it everyday. The last janitor threw a fit over it, but that doesn't stop her."

I heaved a sigh, taking another drag. "So saying something about it isn't gonna' stop her?"

"You can try," Mary suggested, but her tone told me that my attempts would be futile.

Our conversation was dragged away by the light breeze that blew in from the west. Her chocolate waves were tugged and pulled by the wind's invisible fingers, making my body ache with want. I imagined how silky her hair must feel, and my hands began to clench with anticipation, wishing that it would somehow be acceptable for me to reach out and bury my fingers deep into her mane.

Mary must have felt me staring, because she turned and gave me a curious look. "What's up?"

I blushed and quickly turned away, hoping that she hadn't noticed just how intense my gaze had been.

"I'm impressed," I began, eager to jump into a new conversation. One that didn't involve me telling her how irresistible she was. "I didn't know you had it in ya'. Those pipes of yours...damn. I've never heard somebody sing like that."

She smiled in a way that wrinkled her nose just the slightest bit. Her eyes fell to the sidewalk and she gave me a bashful shrug. "I've had perfect pitch since I was in my church choir as a child. It's always been like that."

I raised my eye brows and whistled. I tried to imagine a tiny Mary, somehow tinier than she was now, singing with a voice like that. It was crazy to think of. Some people could train for years and still wouldn't achieve her level of singing, and then here she was, simply born into greatness. It was pretty incredible, and it only seemed to fuel the state of awe that she consistently had me in.

"And you want to jam with me? With a voice like that?" I scoffed. "Why don't you just join an opera house or somethin'?"

She shook her head softly, her curls bouncing as she moved. "I don't want to. My parents and my teacher say the same thing. Everyone is always telling me how to use my voice and I hate it."

I nodded solemnly, my eyes dropping to my shoes. I could only guess how annoying that must be, having people tell you what you should and shouldn't do with your life. Of course, I hadn't dealt with that in quite a while. I was on my own save for my band and, because of that, I made all of my own decisions.

Plus, I kept forgetting the fact that Mary was still in high school, a time when you are expected to act like an adult but everyone still treats you like a child. It's a frustrating time, and it only gets worse when people expect things of you.

"How do you want to use it?" I asked, my eyes raising to the baby blue sky.

"I love rock n'roll, but not many other girls I know do. You know, Catholic school and all that. So, here's the deal: you're in a rock band, you like rock n'roll, you have the instruments for it. So, I want you to practice with me, write songs with me-anything, really. I just want to make rock music."

I gave her a wary look. She was asking far too much from me. Lord knows I wanted to be around her as much as physically possible. The pull I felt towards her when she was near was astronomical, and only left me wanting more when she was away. But how bad would that look? The school janitor hanging out with one of the students? Was that even allowed? Surely there was a rule against it.

"There just one problem with that, Jailbait," I began.

"And what's that?" She demanded, probably thinking I was trying everything within my power to avoid her. Boy, was she stubborn.

"You're jailbait."

"Oh my God," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes up towards the sky dramatically and laughing. "It's not like we're going to be doing anything. Just playing some guitar and singing some tunes. What're they gonna' do about it?"

Although my heart sank at the way she simply shrugged off the possibility of us being anything more than jam session buddies, I felt a sense of happiness come from the fact that she was right. If we weren't doing anything other than making music together, what's the worst that could happen? What would they do? Take away our guitar? Rip apart any lyrics we wrote together?

As long as we kept things professional, they had no reason to stop us. And I was fine with this, because it meant that I now had an excuse to see Mary more often. To hear her sing more often.

"Alright. It's a deal," I agreed, tossing my cigarette aside and going to shake her hand.

"Be careful, you remember what happened last time you smoked," she teased, accepting my hand in hers and shaking.

I practically melted at the electricity that came from her touch.

"What time are we doing this?" I asked, ignoring her remark.

"Four o'clock on the weekdays. Noon on the weekends," she informed me. "Sound good?"

I smirked. "Sounds great."