Social Norms (Synacky)

Chapter Three

“Hell, no.”

Brian had thought it would be good to hang out with Jimmy again. He’d figure they’d have a few laughs, maybe jam a bit or play video games and raid the kitchen for snacks and beer since Brian’s family was out. Boy, was he in for a surprise.

“Why not? No one will have to find out, just the band, and they won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“Because, Jimmy, I sorta wanted to be in a band with you. And now you want me to teach that faggot how to play, and not even join the band myself? That’s a douche thing to do. Besides, why should I help that queer kid? He can learn on his own.”

“Wendt doesn’t exactly get along with you either, and we can’t have a band without a bassist. I’ll work on a different project with you, okay? But just help me by helping Zack. Just over the summer, alright?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “What’s in this for me?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe you can just do a favor for your friend for once. C’mon, Bri, just teach him a few riffs, show him how to write. He’s got the basics, but it’s not band material. I want at least one solo on the album.”

Brian looked at Jimmy incredulously. “Album? You guys are really fucking serious about this aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped being such a bitch about this and helped me out by helping Zacky! So what if he’s gay? He doesn’t criticize us for being straight! He’s actually a cool guy when you give him the chance.”

Brian sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He did owe Jimmy, he supposed. He could think of countless times the drummer was selflessly at his side for whatever Brian needed.

“How often will I have to teach him?”

“Whenever we have practice, which ought to be a few times a week for a couple hours. It’s not like you’re doing anything anyway…”

“I was going to get a job this summer.” Brian pulled the next best excuse he could think of, and Jimmy laughed.

“Bull. C’mon, Bri, you have nothing to lose. We’ll put your name on the album and everything. Maybe pay you royalties.”

“I have my reputation to lose! What if all my friends think I’m gay for hanging out with him?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “They won’t find out, I swear. And if they do, so what? If they’re really your friends, they’ll know you and know that you’re not. Besides, what’s so bad about him? I like him, he’s just a shy kid who gets teased a lot.”

“He’s trying to steal you away from me!” Brian snapped, “He wants you all to himself, that’s why I don’t like him.”

“I think you have some serious jealousy issues, Brian.” Jimmy frowned. “We’ve been best friends since eighth grade, I've just started hanging out with Zacky this year. Use your brain for once. No one will ever replace you, Bri. Starting a band was Zacky’s idea, and I can’t very well say ‘Oh, that’s great! I’ll get my friends together and you can’t be a part of your own idea!’ And you guys don’t get along, that’s why you weren’t invited. I’ve already made that part clear.”

“Then why are you wanting me to teach him so bad?” Brian went over to the fridge, opening it up and grabbing a can of soda. He got one for Jimmy and tossed it to the older boy. “If we ‘don’t get along’ bad enough for me to be excluded from the band, why do you want me to show him how to play?”

“Because he’s nowhere near as good as you, alright?” Jimmy answered, opening the can and taking a swig. “Zacky can write basic riffs. They’re all built around the same generic style, and they’re all simple chords. He doesn’t know anything about licks or shredding or solos, just chord progression that carries through a song. He’s decent, but I’d really appreciate it if you could make him… you know… good.”

Brian sighed, setting his drink down on the counter, frowning at the chip in the granite that had been there for as long as he could remember. “What kind of guitar does he play?”

“A Fender Telecaster, but I’m not sure what make. Looks expensive. You saw it the other day, didn’t you?”

Brian chewed his lip as he recalled the red guitar he’d seen Zacky playing. It was a Telecaster. A decent guitar, it could hold a tune and probably any lick Brian had Zacky try on it.

“Alright.” He agreed finally. “I’ll do it. But you gotta let me solo on one of the songs. Deal?”

“But-“

“That’s my only condition.” Brian cut Jimmy off. “I don’t have to be in the band, but you gotta at least let me have my part in it. Pick the shortest song on your album, I don’t care. But after I teach him some stuff, you gotta let me have a solo.”

It was Jimmy’s turn to frown, huffing and staring down at his can. “Okay.” He replied, “It’s a deal. But we’re starting tomorrow. You can teach him guitar while Matt and I run through some lyrics. My house.”

“What time?” Brian asked, downing the last of his soda and tossing his can at the wastebasket.

“I don’t know, sometime tomorrow afternoon. Whenever you feel like it. I’ll call you when everyone else is there, or you can come earlier and we can jam some. Okay?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

With that settled, Jimmy cartwheeled out of the kitchen, almost kicking Brian in the face, and headed for the door. “C’mon.” he said, “Let’s go down to the water.”

~*~

Brian tried to not thinking about teaching Zacky too much. He just took some time to enjoy being with his best friend. They brought their boards and weaved through the crowded Cali beach, before crashing into the waves.

He loved surfing.  The water provided a cool relief from the summer’s sweltering heat, the feeling of his feet planted firmly on the board as he rode a wave was always exhilarating. He remembered when he first learned how to surf, all wobbly movements and countless crashes. Brian had been the one to teach Jimmy how to surf, and they’d come out every morning for weeks at a time to ride some waves before the crowds of tourists arrived.

He almost forgot about his commitment, too.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Jimmy called out to him as he turned to go home. “Bring your guitar, okay?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.” Brian sighed, heading the opposite direction to his own house. They both lived in the same neighborhood, both within walking distance from the beach. “Catch ya later, Jimmy.”