Sweet Little Thing(8)

“Yeah, man. I hear ya. So you guys are getting married in two weeks. That means we have to do the bachelor party next weekend. I’ve been brainstorming.”

“I don’t need a bachelor party.”

“Hell, yeah, you do, and I have the perfect idea.”

“What?”

“Pub crawl and then lap dances.” He arched his eyebrows and nodded, saying, “Hmm, hmm, whaddya think?”

“I don’t even know what to think. Whatever your plan is, you best run it by Mia. I don’t want to be divorced before I’m married.”

“All right, then it’s set for next Saturday. It will all be planned and I’ll tell Mia almost everything.”

“No nudey bars or strippers,” I said nonchalantly.

“That’s like a rite of passage. What’s happened to you?” Tyler’s long arms started waving around. He normally talked with his hands, but when he was really passionate about something he would get both arms into it. It was creepy.

“I just don’t want to.”

“Liar.”

Standing up from my stool, I threw a five-dollar bill down on the bar. “There. I’ll get mine. Everyone thinks that song is by Creedence Clearwater Revival; don’t sweat it. I gotta bolt.”

I gave Tyler a typical guy shoulder hug and headed out the door. I heard him call back, “I’ll see you at eight on Saturday!”

Before heading up to our loft, I stopped at the studio. Frank was sitting on the lobby couch, talking boisterously on his cell phone. The lobby was a tiny room in the front of the building. There were no windows aside from the two glass double doors. Inside the lobby sat a small couch and two leather captain’s chairs facing an Indian-inspired wooden table that Sheil had given us. There was a small desk in the corner where the receptionist, Maggie, sat. She was always insanely preoccupied with her looks. When I walked in, Frank held a finger up to me. I glanced over at Maggie, who was looking at herself in a compact mirror.

“Mags,” I said in a loud whisper. When she looked up, I jetted my thumb toward Frank and mouthed, “Why is he here?”

She shrugged and then went back to applying a coat of lipgloss. She’s grossly overpaid.

I took a seat next to Frank and waited for him to wrap up the call.

“Saturday, yes, that should work,” he said into the phone before pressing End and slipping it into his pocket. He took his fedora off and placed it on the table. This was a sign that Frank had something important to tell me. He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees.

“You really cannot control yourself, can you?” he said calmly.

“What are you talking about?”

“That was Chad’s lawyer. She’s a mean bitch, Will.”

I took a deep breath and shook my head. “He doesn’t have a case.”

“Apparently they’re trying to bring assault charges against you. Chad’s inner ear is damaged from your little tantrum. Singers usually need their hearing intact, Will.”

My heart started racing. “There is no f*cking way in hell that I f*cked up that kid’s ear.”

“They have an eye witness that said you dragged him around the studio by his ear.”

“Oh my God, this is insane. I barely tugged on it. He’s lying. The kid wanted credit for our songs, and he couldn’t even play ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’ Frank, this is bullshit.”

“Live Wire contacted me, wanted some insight, and then gave the lawyer my number, but this is totally out of my league. You better lawyer up. You have a meeting this Saturday, and I think you’ll probably want representation.”

I was stunned. “My bachelor party is Saturday,” I said quietly to myself.

“His lawyer is from Topeka, the town where the kid is from. I guess it’s his great aunt or something. She can only be here Saturday. You better work it out. They’ll be here at ten a.m. to take a statement.” He said the last part as he stood, placing his fedora back on his head.

I was completely quiet and still as a statue as Frank left the building. I glanced back at Maggie.

“You’re screwed,” she said.

“Thank you, master of the obvious.”

Her face scrunched up with pity. “Sorry.”

“It’s five o’clock, Mags, you can go.”

I went around shutting off lights and locking doors. Walking through the sound room, I paused at the piano and thought about Mia writing that song for Chad. Even though Mia rarely wrote lyrics, I would always ask her what the music was about, what she was thinking of when she wrote a piece. She said the song for Chad, which we’d eventually titled Lost N Found, was about the people we encounter in life who just tarry along, never really letting anyone get to know them. It’s those people who don’t understand what loyalty means; they bounce from one set of friends to another, never building strong bonds. They’re like the pieces of paper floating around at the wind’s mercy.

I sat at the bench and began playing it. We had written lyrics and then tweaked them to fit Chad’s vocals and image, but the original was ten times more meaningful. I felt the conflict rise in me again. This is what I wanted, the normalcy of coming to the same place every day, of having a stable job, but whenever we had to give away a piece of ourselves through the songs, I felt like a sellout. I sang the original quietly to myself that night as I played Mia’s beautiful music.