Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(37)

Sean laughs. “I’m gonna say that was a definite no.”

“Look at him,” I say. “He’s like an old woman.”

“Your dad did work him over pretty good tonight. Making him do all those skip-kicks and air splits again and again.”

“Yeah, or it could have been the three hour ‘I miss you,’ ‘I miss you, too’ chitty-chat with the wife. I don’t know what’s going on with him anymore. He’s gone all soft on us.” I lift the lid on the minicooler under my desk and grab a can of Mountain Dew. “How are we supposed to have band meetings if he’s going to be falling asleep on the job all the time? I mean, we have important things to discuss here.”

“We could wake him up,” Sean says.

“Good idea.” I crouch down and open the soda can right by Matt’s ear. It makes a pop and fizz, spraying a fine mist onto his cheek. Matt gives a quick snorting grunt but doesn’t stir. “Looks like we’ve got a heavy sleeper on our hands.”

“Just give him a shake.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I take a sip of the Mountain Dew and then put the can on my dresser. “I think we should try something a bit more . . . invigorating.” I yank one of my stinky socks off my feet and waft it in front of Matt’s nose. “Oh, Matt. Mattington. It’s time to wake up and smell the sockee.” I lower the nasty sock and let it brush his lips.

Sean cracks up. “You’re a sick bastard.”

“Here, watch this.” I pick up one of my sneakers, shove the old sock inside it, and tap Matt on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Wake up. Valerie’s on the phone.”

Matt’s eyes flicker open. He sits up, all groggy. “Huh. What? Valerie?”

“Yeah. Here. Take it. It’s long distance.”

“Long distance?” he says, all confused. He grabs my Nike and holds it up to his ear. “Hello? Valerie? Where are you?” Matt scrunches up his nose. “Jesus, dude, your phone stinks. Hello? Hello? There’s no one there.”

“That’s ’cause you’re holding it upside down.” I grab the shoe, spin it around, and hand it back to Matt.

“Valerie?” Matt says into the sneaker.

Sean doubles over, cracking up.

Finally, Matt’s awake enough to realize he’s holding a sneaker instead of a phone. “You ass,” he says, throwing the shoe on the floor. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you falling asleep, dude,” I say. “Sean and I are trying to figure out what kind of outfits we should wear for the Battle of the Bands. We’d appreciate your fully conscious input.”

“Outfits?” Matt rubs his eyes. “Why would we wear outfits?”

“Because it’s rock and roll.” I point to the KISS concert on the television just as one of the costumed dudes is spewing blood out of his mouth.

Matt shakes his head. “Dude. I don’t think so.”

“Look,” I say. “We can’t just get up there in jeans and T-shirts. We’ll look like a bunch of tool bags. Like everyone else. I mean, if it was only me, I’ve got my own edgy look going, but you two are, I don’t know, sort of . . . vanilla. No offense.”

“Vanilla?” Sean says.

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with vanilla. It’s the perfect base for everything. We just need to dress it up a little. Throw in some chocolate. Nuts. Marshmallow. Graham crackers.”

“You want to make us Rocky Road?” Matt asks.

“Something like that. So the band has a rock-and-roll personality.”

“I don’t get it,” Sean says.

“It’s simple, dude.” I start to pace. “We come up with a theme. And then we all dress up in that theme. It’ll help with the stage fright, too. ’Cause you’ll be pretending to be someone else.”

“Like ninjas?” Matt asks.

I teeter-totter my head. “I don’t know about that, but —”

“Or pirates!” Sean shouts.

Matt glares at him. “Oh, Jesus. Don’t start that stupid debate again, Sean.”

“Why? Because you don’t want me to prove you wrong? Again?”

“Look, there is no way a pirate could kick a ninja’s ass. Just because you keep saying it over and over again, doesn’t make it true.”

“I don’t just say it. I state the facts.” Sean grabs a candy bar from our stash on the nightstand and tears it open. “Pirates are cunning. Pirates have swords. Pirates have muskets. One shot and the ninja is dead.” He takes a bite of his candy bar for emphasis.

“I have two words for you.” Matt gets to his feet and snags a bag of barbecue potato chips. “Training and stealth. It wouldn’t even be a fight.”

“Who gives a crap?” I say. “We’re not dressing up as pirates or ninjas. We want to look cool. Not like we should be working in a comic book shop.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Sean points at me. “Pirates are cool. Way cooler than ninjas. I think we might want to consider a pirate theme.”

“What about a vampire?” Matt asks. “They’re cooler than pirates.”

“That’s true,” Sean says. “And girls dig vampires.”