It's my turn to laugh. "You're such a fucking rock star," I mock. Then I pull open the drawer next to the fridge, looking for a straw. "You want a bendy straw, dude?"
His face lights up at the sight of the blue and white plastic straw. And then it fades quickly as he reins it in, because that was a lot of damn excitement for a grown man to exhibit over a straw. He clears his throat again. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, only if you're gonna have one."
I stick one in each glass and flex the tips. "Yup. Bendy straws are the shit, dude."
He immediately takes a drink through it when I hand him the glass. And then he smiles that shit-eating grin of his. "Bendy straws are the shit. Now let's go do rock star stuff."
After milk and cookies we get down to business for the next eighteen hours. The sun sets and rises again before we quit. The beer is gone. The songs are better than they were before. And Franco is stoked.
I love it when Franco's stoked.
He's always straightforward with me, so his excitement is also approval. It means that we're onto something here.
I'm so relieved. I've been living under this shroud of my own disappointment and doubt and disregard for almost a year now. I know we're not home free, since we still need to play this for the rest of the band and for MFDM, but I don't feel like a burden anymore. I feel like Gus again.
When Franco leaves, I'm home alone. I grab my Sharpie and pad of sticky notes and I write a note and stick it to Impatient's door before I go to sleep. It reads, Songs are done. I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you.
Thursday, December 14
(Gus)
There are two sticky notes on my door when I open it. It's a long message and it makes me smile. I didn't do anything. I listened. That's it. You, on the other hand, made me feel. Feel more than I probably ever have. I felt happiness, sadness, fear, and anger, but most of all I felt hope. I've never been so honored to eavesdrop.
I don't need praise. Never have. I've always been more about just giving it my all, doing my best, and pushing myself creatively.
But her note? I'd play for her every day to hear that over and over again—to make her feel hope.
Saturday, December 16
(Gus)
I knock loudly, push her bedroom door open an inch, and shout through the crack. "Cock-a-doodle-do! Rise and shine, Impatient!"
"What?" is her sleep-scratchy response. "No roosters allowed. Go away."
I push the door open further and peek in, making sure she's covered up so I don't embarrass her. "Not gonna happen. Someone's buying a car today. And her name is Scout MacKenzie." I inhale sharply, a fake gasp. "What a coincidence, that's you."
She opens her eyes and looks at the alarm clock on her nightstand. "At seven-thirty in the morning?"
I nod and smile. "Yup. Don't sass me, dude. Get your ass in the shower. You're skipping your run this morning. I found you a car in Carlsbad. We need to get on the road soon. Franco's picking us up and giving us a lift. I'm going to wake up Pax."
The truth is I didn't really sleep last night because I was too excited about this. I'm forcing them to join in on my mission.
"I hate you," she growls. I'm not gonna even lie, it sounded pretty hot, especially since she was smiling when she said it.
"I know. Hustle, lazy ass." I step out of the room and immediately close the door, because I know she won't get out from under the covers with me watching. And I don't want to hear her smartass reply. Okay, who am I kidding, I totally want to hear her smartass reply, so I crack the door again just in time to hear her say, "Compliments will get you nowhere, lazier ass." And then I shut the door again quickly before the name calling continues.
With Impatient and Pax roused, we get on the road. Franco came by and is dropping us off at the car dealership on his way to Jamie and Robbie's place this morning. Impatient, Pax, and Franco all seem a little sleepy and there's not much in the way of convo during the ride, which is fine. We listen to a new album I downloaded last night instead. Royal Blood. They're wicked good. Heavy bass and drums, the perfect soundtrack for the start of a gorgeous day. I'm into it.
Impatient and Pax have their driver's licenses, but have never owned cars before. Pax didn't need one at the boarding school he attended in Boston, and Impatient always lived in the city where public transit was the way to go. Here in Southern California a car is a little more of a necessity. Impatient's been saving for one. She only wants to spend eight grand. She's been researching models and scouring the internet for weeks. I think she's just scared to pull the trigger, because she's intimidated by the process. Yesterday while they were at work and school I drove up to the Carlsbad Honda dealership and checked out a few. Let's just say some money's already traded hands. She doesn't know that. I hope my cockamamie plan goes off without a hitch or we're walking home.
The sales guy, Donovan, is a pretty chill dude for a car salesman. I thought they'd all just be douches, but we hit it off pretty well. He's waiting for us when we all walk in.
After introductions are out of the way, Donovan leads us to the lot, toward the car I asked them to set aside. Impatient drives the car. She loves it. I can tell. She's not the type to get giddy, but she smiled during the entire fifteen-minute test drive. That's huge. She tells Donovan that she likes it, and that she'd like to discuss the price. As we walk back to the sales office, Donovan looks to me and I nod. We worked through this scenario yesterday. Cramming the four of us into his tiny office, he turns to her. "Well Scout, for that model, we're looking at nine thousand."