The boys took a break and we chilled out behind the van, within sight of the party but far enough that we weren’t noticed. Paul brought a bottle of wine back and scrounged up some plastic cups. Apparently Paul didn’t look trustworthy enough for the caterer to turn over any actual glass. Probably a good call.
Paul stretched out on the lawn. “So many dames at this gig,” he said. “But I feel like somebody’s going to break my fingers if I so much as look at one.”
The others grunted in agreement. I sat back against the van, thinking of the girl I saw.
Paul nudged me with his boot. “Country boy’s gone all spacey on us.”
I knocked his foot aside. “Been an interesting night.”
The keyboardist dumped wine into his cup. “Damn straight. Although we could be a boom box for all anybody’s noticed us.”
Paul examined a blade of grass with outrageous intensity. “It’s money at the end of the day,” he said.
“Is this all you guys do?” I asked. “Your full-time deal?”
“Nah,” Paul said. “I work at an electronics store.” He pointed at the drummer. “Jazz there sacks groceries.”
“I change oil,” said the bass guitarist. “It’s something.”
“You do anything?” Paul asked me. “Other than thumb rides?”
“I used to,” I said. “But it was killing me, pouring concrete all day. So I left.”
“Nobody got in your way?” Jazz asked, passing me a cup.
I took one even though I had no intention of drinking. “Nope.”
“My old lady would kick my ass if I took off,” Jazz said.
I wasn’t sure if he meant a wife, a girlfriend, or his mom, but I didn’t ask.
“No old lady in my life,” I said, and knew it applied all the way around. I hadn’t left a soul who meant anything to me. Not anymore.
Something about that girl made me think she would understand that. Maybe it was the hair. Or how out of place she seemed to feel, looking around like she didn’t have a friend in the world.
Of course, she was here. Maybe she had some sugar daddy who kept her in fancy dresses. The role didn’t fit her, though, not the way she was standing there, unsure if she belonged.
She’d looked at me, though. That was for certain. Maybe she had somebody. Maybe she didn’t. I shouldn’t really go searching for her. I might not stay in LA any length of time. Messing with some movie star’s girl might cause trouble for the band.
But despite what my head was telling me, my butt got off the ground anyway. “Gonna stretch my legs.”
Jazz hooted. “Like hell you are. I saw you making eyes at somebody.”
Damn, I was more obvious than I thought.
“Don’t go getting us thrown out of the gig,” Paul said, then laughed. “We can do that all on our own.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “I’ve never been one to cause trouble.” Not anymore, at least.
“That makes one of us,” Jazz said.
The party didn’t seem any different from when we left it, despite the lack of a band. I ditched the wine on a table.
Piped-in music filled in the background behind the buzz of conversation. Must be hidden speakers in the trees. Paul was sort of right. The band being onstage didn’t seem to matter. They were all in their own little worlds.
The tables at the center were packed, and clusters of animated people talked with exaggerated gestures, like they were game show hosts. I could see from the body language that everybody had too much to say and not enough patience to hear anybody else.
That pink-haired girl was different, though, and I searched for her. I couldn’t see past the edge of the crowd, so I hightailed it to the stage and climbed up, examining a guitar as if I needed to adjust something.
Now that I was above everyone, I could easily scan the whole space. Her pink hair was easy to spot from here. She had her hand on some geezer in a sharp suit. He had to be three times her age. My stomach clenched. Maybe she was his daughter or something.
I looked her way a couple more times, trying not to stare. Another guy came up, short, bald, but friendlier than the other. He draped his arm around her and pulled her in with familiarity.
So she did have someone.
I shook it off. She was just a random girl. By this time tomorrow, she’d be lost in all the memories of faces and places I’d taken in these past months.
The Fender felt good. I wanted to crank out a solo, something dark and brooding, but this wasn’t my gig. I set it back in its stand and couldn’t help myself, but took one more look into the crowd.
My heart revved up when I saw she was watching me. Her eyes flitted to the guy next to her. He understood or something, as suddenly he was looking at me too. Then he nodded.
I had the weirdest feeling he was giving her some sort of approval. Maybe this was one of those polyamory deals, open relationships. I’d never known anybody like that. Doing somebody else on the sly, sure. Seemed like everybody cheated eventually.
But we were in Cali now. Maybe anything goes. Living large. I figured for one night anyway, it didn’t matter. Nobody’d managed to last any longer than that for me. I doubted Little Miss Pink was going to be any different.
But she was heading this way.
Chapter 7: Jenny