Hex

Chapter 9

     "Are you sure this a real gig this time?" Bishop pressed, this being around the fourth time he'd asked that question.

     "Positive. Stopped by and looked at the venue after school today. This Friday, Halloween, big party, live band, that's where you guys come in," Danny said, pacing in front of the four of us seated on the couch.

     "I don't know. Are we ready for something like that?" I asked, nerves and doubt creeping in. "We couldn't even handle the nursing home!"

     "That was a completely different situation. Those biddies wouldn't know good music if it slapped them in the face," Finn grumbled.

     "Yeah, just trust me. You guys got this," Danny said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Well, math class calls. I'll see you guys after school."

"At this point, you should be paying rent," Bishop said. He was flat on his back on the couch, his baseball cap covering his face.

     "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Later," Danny said, saluting us and slamming the door behind him.

     After that, Finn retreated to his room. Zane muttered something and then headed into the bathroom, leaving just Bishop and me.

     "So you hungover?" Bishop asked, lifting up his hat to look at me.

     "Fuck yeah," I laughed, remembering the water I chugged and the double dose of aspirin I downed when I woke up that morning.

     "Yeah, me too. This hat does wonders," he said, replacing it back over his face. I plopped on my back next to him on the couch, so we were shoulder to shoulder.

     "Hi," I whispered.

     "So last night."

     "Yeah, last night."

     We sat silently for a beat or two. "So we were just drunk, right?" He asked.

     No. "Yeah, totally. It meant nothing, right?"

     "Oh yeah, you know it. Absolutely, butt fuck nothing."

     No. "So there's no reason for it to be awkward between us."

      "Friends?" He asked, holding out his hand. I shook it and smiled. We stared at each other for a moment too long, before I jumped up.

     "Well, I'm going to get ready for work. See you at practice later!" I scurried out of the room.

"Uh, alright, start brainstorming a setlist!" He hollered after me.

     I drilled my fingers on the counter at work, humming a new song that we'd been working on a couple of days before. Nerves coursed through my system, partially from the impending performance tonight, sans old people, we could only hope. Another big contributor to the nerves was my "situation" with Bishop.

     "How much longer is my latte going to take? I've got to get to work!" An angry man broke my stare off into the distance.

     "Just a second!" I chirped, whirling off to the espresso machine that had been finished for much too long. I handed the hot drink to him, and he chucked a couple of bills my way in frustration. "Have a lovely day!" I sang sarcastically to his retreating form. He held up his middle finger as the bell above the door clanged behind him.

     "Gotta love New York," my coworker said, as she bumped my arm.

     "Still better than the Ivy Leagues," I shrugged.

     "Girly!" Valeria shrieked, bouncing through the door. She took a seat at a stool in front of the counter, resting her elbows on the surface and her head on her hands.

     "How may I help you?" I pronounced, in a faux British accent, leaning onto my elbows as well.

     "Are you excited for the show tonight?" She flashed a brilliant smile.

     "Obviously. Are you coming?"

     "Are you kidding? Wouldn't miss my best friends' big debut. And if it turns out to be a hot mess, like I heard the last one was, well who else is going to record the whole thing and put it on Instagram?"

     I pouted and knocked her elbows off the table. "Do you want a coffee or not loser?"

     "Nope!" She exclaimed, then walked out with only a wave.

     "Alright then."

     As soon as my shift was over, I was ripping off my apron and dashing into the late afternoon. I practically ran all the way to the apartment, our songs ringing in my brain the whole time.

     I crashed through the door of our apartment. Bishop sat on the couch, typing furiously on his computer. Finn was absentmindedly strumming the guitar in the kitchen.

     "Who's ready to practice?" I sing-songed excitedly.

     "Shut up." Finn muttered, while Bishop just waved me away, never looking up from his screen.

     I crossed my arms and huffed. "Zane will want to practice with me," I said, heading towards his door.

     "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Bishop called.

     "Nah, let her do it," Finn said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

     I glanced between the two of them suspiciously, but knocked and promptly opened the third boy's door anyways. I was met by a very feminine and very much not Zane-like squeal and a little too many body parts for my liking, before I quickly slammed the door shut once again.

     Wide eyed, I stumbled back to the couch and sat down, staring blankly at the wall. "Why did you let me do that?" I asked Bishop weakly.

     "Tried to warn you," he tittered, wagging his finger at me.

     "Whatcha writing?" I asked, leaning my head on his arm and pretending things still felt normal between us.

     "Essay for lit. Due tonight. Typing for hourssss," he groaned out in a caveman-like simplicity.

     "You knowwww, I was quite good at writing, back in my day," I said, staring up at him.

     He looked at me with wide eyes, before jumping to his feet and kneeling before me, hands pleading. "Help me, pleaseeee, help me Vienna. I'll love you forever if you help me."

     I ignored my heart fluttering and dragged his computer onto my lap. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, but then we're practicing," I insisted strictly.

     That's when a disheveled girl came stumbling out of Zane's room, high heels in hand. We all looked up at the pretty brunette curiously. "'Sup," she muttered to us, before making a surprisingly half-graceful exit from the apartment. Zane came out of his room as soon as the front door closed behind the girl, clad in only boxers and one singular sock.

     "Sorry to interrupt," I said to Zane, before returning my eyes to Bishop's several paragraphs.

     "No need, we were just finishing up anyways," he winked, pouring himself a glass of water, as the rest of us dramatically groaned. "Wake me up when you guys are ready to practice."

     I typed a few sentences onto the page, before Danny came in the door. He glanced around at all of us, before immediately taking charge. "Fuck you, Bishop," he said, eyeing his brother's computer in my lap. Danny ripped it from my hands and took a seat beside me. "I'll write whatever the shit this is, you idiots get to practicing." He tossed a nearby football (there was always one nearby in this apartment) at Zane's door.

     Zane poked his head out in surprise, before spotting Danny and quickly hurrying out, this time with slightly more clothes on than before. He stood at attention and over-exaggeratedly saluted, before taking his seat at the drumset. "Let's fucking go!" He yelled, banging out a beat.

     We all cheered and joined him in our places. "A one, two, three," Bishop called.