One More Song

Chapter Eight

Abel pulled the door open and she gave him a grateful smile as she walked into the loft, balancing the tray of cups on one hand. From beneath his unruly curls, the slender young man smiled and took the tray from her.

"I'm awake, I swear," he said, laughing as he put the styrofoam tray on the battered metal folding chair near Tyler's equipment.

"It's for me, not you." Mariel smothered a yawn and rescued the tray from the unsteady chair, removing one of the cups as she stumbled to the couch and slumped onto the floor in front of it. Popping the lid off with her thumb, she breathed in deeply, inhaling the aroma of good, strong coffee.

"School kicking up?" Abel paused, counting on his fingers, and frowned. "Oh right, Spring Break's coming up, isn't it? Lots of assignments due first?"

She groaned, nodding, and blew across the steaming liquid before she braced herself for several quick, deep gulps. It burned--a little too hot--but she drank more regardless, opening her mouth and panting for cooler air before sighing. "Yeah, don't remind me. After this, I have to break into the library to finish researching that damn term paper. It's due right after Spring Break and I work that whole week."

"Tonight? Girl, we won't get done until like two in the morning!"

Flopping back on the floor would've spilled the coffee. All she could do was sigh again, glancing at Abel, and nod. "I know, I know. But I can't ditch practice, especially not when Tyler finally swore up and down that he'd be here tonight. If we're ever going to be ready for that gig, we've g-" Mariel's eyes narrowed. She sat up straight and put the coffee cup safely out of range. "What?"

Aware that his expression had given it away, Abel didn't prevaricate. He raked a hand through his hair and stared at the floor. "Tyler cancelled it."

"WHAT?!"

Both hands up and outspread, Abel backed away from her. "Look, I had nothing to do with it! He just sent me a text and said we weren't ready yet, so he cancelled it until we were!"

Mariel could feel her eyes bulging and she forced herself to turn away. An awkward hop saved her from kicking the tray of coffee cups and she half-danced around the lone, now half empty cup. Reaching the window, she grabbed the sill with both hands and breathed in deeply. Held it. Breathed out. Repeated the process until she could think of anything other than murder. "...and he didn't tell me because...?"

"I don't know, Mariel." Abel's voice had dropped into the nearly inaudible apologetic tone that he used with almost everyone she'd seen him around. When she turned to look at him, Abel was cringing, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward. The guilt was immediate--she knew damn well why he was so timid around people and why raised voices scared him.

It was good, that guilt. It was solid, something she could step on to get above the anger. Mariel drew another breath. Held it. Sighed and felt in her pocket for her cigarettes. "Sorry babe. I didn't mean to spook you."

He didn't look at her but retreated to his bass, behind his amp where a milk crate was waiting. Abel sat on it, pulling his knees close to his chest, but he did glance at her and smile weakly. "It's okay."

The window was stiff (again) and she had to fight with it before it consented to go up a few begrudging inches. Naturally, her lighter wouldn't spark and Mariel threw it into a corner before digging through her backpack in search of matches. "Well." It put her teeth on edge to say it, but she did anyway. "Maybe he's right. More practice can't hurt." The matches came to light, beneath her cell phone, and she checked the display, swiping right and then up as she checked her text messages. The last one from Tyler was a simple "k" in response to her saying they'd start practice whenever everyone showed up. Nothing about the cancelled gig. Nothing about "more rehearsal." No apologies for the practice sessions he'd missed or the date nights he'd called with half-assed excuses while she heard Amelia in the background.