The Anger Album

Track Two

"Got time to have a round?" I asked Jules as soon as I got to the practice building that afternoon. My fists had been itching for hours and if I wasn't going to hit Jules I was bound to hit something a lot more solid.

"The guys are already in there, but I've got time after," he offered, slamming his car door shut after swinging a case around his shoulder. "I'm guessing Malcolm flipped shit, then?"

I opened the door to the building for him with my free hand while he carried his guitar cases in. "That's an understatement. He's trying all he can to keep me from going, Jules."

"That's a good thing. You write faster when you're angry." He had his back turned toward me, but I could hear the smile in his voice. When I didn't answer him he added, "He can't do that, can he? You'll just go anyway."

"I'm not eighteen. He can do whatever he wants." I paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching my fists. "Jay called him. Mom argued with him to let me go, but he says as long as I have to take anger management, then I'm not grown up enough to move across the country." I mimicked my father's low, grumbling tone of voice with this, which only provoked my anger toward him. "I don't know what to do."

"Stop needing anger management, then." I found a water bottle nearby and tossed it at Jules' head, forcing him to duck. "Okay, sorry. You'll never get out with that attitude."

"Asshole," I moaned, collapsing onto the sofa across from Myles.

He twirled his drumsticks around his fingers and proceeded to drum to an imaginary beat on my head. "Hey, babe. Jules is my asshole so watch it."

I snatched one of his sticks from his hand and contemplated shoving it up the body part in question. As Myles plucked his stick back while mocking a pouty lip, Davey swirled around from the creaking computer chair and said, "Why don't you talk to your therapy guy about it?"

"The next one to mention my therapy will need physical therapy, got it?" I sniped at them, but only because I didn't know what else to do.

"For real, Ands," Jules shouted above the hum of his electric guitar. "Why don't you talk to Jay? Surely that man wants to get rid of you as much as you do him. Don't you think he might be willing to strike something up?"

"The only thing Jay will want me to do is participate in his six-step brouhaha and I'm not having any of it. I never trust a man who thinks he can fix the world in just six steps."

"Ooh, that sounds naughty," Myles licked his lips. "Mind showing me some of those steps?"

"Speaking of which," I ignored him and followed my train of thought to the songbook in my hands, "I've got us the first song on our new album. It's called 'Pledge to Retaliation' and I give Jay partial credit as to the inspiration."

"That sounds sick," Trip offered, coming out of his own little daze. "Belt it out, lady."

With that, we got into the mess of learning a new song. Once I turned the lyrics over to Trip and Jules had the gist of the chords I'd envisioned, I took over Davey's seat by the computer, stalking the band's media accounts in order to try and clear my mind. Mack had wanted us to promote this farewell concert of sorts and milk it for all it was worth, and I planned on doing just that. If Malcolm thought my 'little band' wasn't going anywhere, I would just have to prove him wrong.

"Andie, you crank out a few more like that and Strange Angels won't have any choice but to sign us," Myles shouted, even though no one was currently playing. He turned to Jules and said, "They'll be begging for the three-sixty. Wouldn't you bet, Babycakes?"