1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Cooper
" Y o, Wade! Give me a line, man!" I shout at the lead singer. The staff at Mingles, the bar that we perform at, did a shit job setting our equipment up, and I need to do some tuning of my drums. Farley, our guitarist, is busy fixing his amps, and Gus, our bassist, is taking a leak. I'm not pissed off, since Mingles looks like Christmas's cheap cousin, all decked out in dim lights, shabby garland, and last year's tinsel, but it's better than the cavernous pit it usually resembles.
The owner, Blake, tries like hell to keep the place looking nice, but with the brawls that happen around here, it's a risk. But that's why we're here. We work for next to nothing, because we don't have a record deal, just a mutual love of music. "You want some Christmassy shit or the usual?" Wade asks.
I frown. "Doesn't matter. I just need a beat."
Wade knocks off a few lines of lyrics from one of our crowd's favorite songs, while I hit my drums and fiddle with what needs fiddling with. Our band, ‘Take Risks', plays precious mixes of hard and soft rock, cover tunes, and great songs that people can sing to. Our crew knows how to get them started, which is why Blake has a standing order for us every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night. We played at some armpit dive in South Carolina last night, which is why we have to move our stuff around today.
"Ya good, Coop?" Wade says into the microphone, as he adjusts it.
"Yeah, thanks." I answer, placing my drumsticks down. The tiny stage, which is merely a step up from the linoleum floor, about ten feet by ten feet, has a wad of garland hovered over it. A piece of tape has come loose, and a length of garland falls, touching my head. I jump, thinking a rat or a roach has landed in my hair. When I realize what it is, I get up and head over to the bar.
"Yo, Blake!" I shout, knowing that the bartender slash owner is out back, and I want to hit him up for some scotch tape.
But instead of Blake showing, a new face does, and I'm stifled. She's blonde, fair-skinned, with gorgeous, big blue eyes, and the most honest face I've seen in these parts. "Err...sorry. I thought you were Blake."
Before I can put my foot in my mouth any farther, Blake appears behind her. "Cooper, Stella. Stella, Cooper." Blake introduces, slightly irritated. I close my mouth, that I didn't realize was open, and avert my attention back to Blake.
"What's up, partner? Need a hand back there?" I ask.
"Na, just the keg's are short-shipped is all." He waves, grumbling. Then he realizes that I'm standing there for something. "What's wrong? You need a cable or something?"
"Some scotch tape if you've got some left. I think y'all used last year's batch from the way it's holding over the stage."
Another wave. "Ah, I told Liz to buy the good stuff, for chrissake."
Liz suddenly appears from the front door, overhearing. "What did you tell me to buy, Blake?" She asks, none too pleased.
"I told you to buy the goddamn tape that sticks, not the stuff that sort of sticks." Blake gripes.
"Christmas is like, a little over a month away, my friend. Y'all think this town has any goddamn tape left? At least anything decent?" Then she digs into her purse and tosses a roll at me, giving me a wink. She's a spitfire.
I chuckle as I catch it. It's the real deal. Stuff that'll stick and all. Blake rolls his eyes, and Stella just stands there, staring at the three of us. My gaze goes to her, and Liz interjects. "I see you've met Stella." I can't tell by her tone if she's still none too pleased or if she's just being her usual pleasant self. Liz has an attitude. She doesn't take shit from anyone, least of all a deadbeat drummer like me.
"Yeah, Blake just introduced us."
Liz is facetious."Sorry I missed that."
Blake changes the subject. "Liz, give Stella here a hand wiping down the tables again. You guys standing on them to decorate, I can see the goddamn shoe prints all over."
Wade walks over and intervenes. "You can call it Christmas décor, man. Don't sweat it. Nobody will notice."
Blake raises a brow. "Public health comes in here they will."
"I...I can get started." Stella stammers, eying a pair of sponges by the bar sink.
"Don't use those, love." Blake states. "Here. I'll give y'all a shammy."
The care in his tone is almost paternal. It's the tone Blake reserves for all the women under his employ, even Liz, when she's not ruffling his feathers. He goes into one of the drawers under the bar and pulls out a wad of folded yellow shammies. Liz tucks her purse under the bar, grabs an apron from a peg on the storage room door, and they both get to work polishing up the tables, while I walk back over to the stage with Wade, and we make light work of rehanging the fallen garland.
"Who's the new girl?" I ask Wade.
"Damned if I know." He shrugs. "But she ain't no regular girl, so I'd steer clear of her."
A ‘v' forms between my brows. "You wanna make a play for her, do ya?"
He guffaws. "I'm serious, man. Not to sound full of myself or like a prick, but regular girls are usually giving me the goo-goo or bedroom eyes on the first glance. She's not doing any of that."
"Maybe because you haven't been properly introduced."
"Yeah, and that's another thing. Chicks are always in my face, shaking my hand or their chest, when they don't get introduced first. She didn't do any of that."
"Wade, no offence, but you do sound like a dick when you say it like that."
He shakes his head. "I'm telling you, brother. She's up to something."
"Dude, she's new. Give her a break. Just because she's not lining up to fuck you, doesn't mean she's up to something."
I hear Blake walking up behind me. I'm not sure if he's heard anything we've been saying. "You boys ever heard of this Stella girl before? She ain't from around here." He murmurs, out of earshot.
"If you don't know anything about her, why did you hire her?" Wade asks, as cocky as ever.
"Because, like it or not, Christmas is right around the corner, and I need more waitresses. And this time, all it took was a small sign on the door, I didn't even have to put out an ad for this one."
I ask. "What's her story, anyway?"
Blake cocks his head slightly. "She's a real quiet one, that's all I can tell you. All I could get out of her when she came in, was that she's looking for work, and she can start anytime."
Wade is flabbergasted. "You mean you didn't even ask her where she was from?"
"Now, look." Blake rests an indignant hand on his hip. "I'm not in the habit of being nosy, see. So long as she's got waitressing experience, that's all I need to know." He lifts a hand. "You look at some of the boys that work here, they've all been in a lick or two of trouble, but they're all good people, see. Damn, you're no saint either, Wade. Neither is your brother, Colton. Or any one of you Ford boys, for that matter."
I lift my hands. "Hey, leave me out of this."
Blake gives me a disapproving look. "You're fine, Coop."
I smile but Wade rolls his eyes. The only reason why I'm one up on Wade is because I teach music at a local elementary school. Sure, I didn't go to teacher's college, but it's all the same in this town. My musical prowess was earned honestly, what with proper piano lessons, then just about every instrument, until I fell head over heels in love with the drums. The pipes aren't bad, either, as Wade will attest, when I sing backup. He's even got me singing lead on one tune that requires such a small amount of drumming, that I can totally wing it.
Wade won't tell you, but he got shipped off to the military by his late father. He'll tell you that all five of them got shipped off, but believe what you want to believe. Wade's tunes aren't centered around a rebel for nothing, let's just say that. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love the dude to bits, man, but he's earned his stripes. Known each other a long time. Since high school. Only, I went to college, and he went off to the military. I'm not saying that I'm better than him, considering that I'm in the same band, but Wade has a real rough edge to him. Probably why the chicks dig him so much.
"Oh, make me fucking gag, man." Wade whines, but he's also smirking, so I know that he's just playing along.
"You boys keep your paws off Stella, okay? She's not on the menu." Blake says, which isn't often spelled out, since Wade has slept with just about every regular in this place, but Blake calls a spade a spade, and he sensed it just like Wade did, that this Stella girl is off limits.
"Not to worry, man." Wade guffaws. "I don't need any of that trouble."
"Yeah, you're more used to the kind of trouble that can be dealt with with a little penicillin." I tease, chucking him on the shoulder.
"Fuck you." Wade laughs.
Another hour and the place is filling up. Liz starts handing out festive drinks with mini candy canes and things like that hanging out of them. Mostly to the ladies, of course, as guys are just ordering the usual beer. Although Blake does order a keg or two of some draught beer that a local microbrewery does up that's actually colored green, and it's supposed to taste kind of cinnamony, but I've never touched the shit. We start playing and the place packs right up. It's kind of nice to see. People come to watch us play, not just to get toasted or to pick up chicks.
Don't get me wrong, some do. And as a matter of fact, just as I'm thinking that, I catch out of the corner of my eye, some dude trying to hit on Stella. Of course, she's having none of it, just trying to do her job and deliver drinks to the table. I see Colton keeping watch over at a table where one of the patrons needs to be cut off but is refusing, and I whistle over to him, and gesture with my chin. Colton walks over and calls the guy off, telling him to leave the lady alone and drink or leave.
Stella looks at me as I beat the drums and by the look in her eyes, she knows that I was behind that, as much as it was Colton's beefy arms and searing gaze that made the guy back off. I nod, as if asking if she's okay, but she turns her gaze away, like she's been caught with her tail between her legs, and scurries off back to the bar, to pick up her next drink order.
"Yo, we gotta go drain the main vain." Wade says into the microphone, once it's time for us to do a short intermission. I really do have to take a leak, so I head over to the men's room, and as I arrive at the door, I have to fight with a hideous giant Santa face taped to it. It takes everything in me not to yank the piece of shit off, but I see Stella walking down the end of the hallway, heading to the back. Her back is to me, but I've got half a mind to clue her in on a thing or two while I have the chance.
"Hey, Stella!" I call to her over the recorded music playing overhead. She doesn't answer. I figure the music isn't that loud, so I try again, but to no avail. It's not until I drain my bladder and come back out that I see her again. "Hey, how's it going?" I ask her casually. "This your first night?"
She nods, but she keeps her head down, like she's afraid to give me eye contact.
"Don't let any of those deadbeats scare you. We've got you covered."
"It's okay." She shrugs, giving me a shy, tight grin. "Colton is very nice."
"We're all nice, actually. Though, the patrons here, well, I can't speak for most of them. Oh, and Liz can kick anyone's ass if none of the bouncers are around." I explain, and then I go for cute, not sure why. "You couldn't have picked a better bar to work at. Unless you've got an aversion to green beer."
Another tight smile, and then she walks away, like she's been dismissed.
"Nice talking to ya." I murmur as she walks away, and I shake my head. "Weirdo." I chuckle, but I can't help the smile. I've never met a girl that didn't want to talk my ear off. Especially once they find out that I'm in Wade's band. That's the ticket right there.
I catch her eying me here and there as the night continues. But once I look her way, it's like elementary school again, and she averts her gaze. The shyness is intriguing, I'll admit. Once Wade has his pick of the litter for the night, he does his usual shpeel, bringing her up on stage to sing and/or dance with him. He sure knows how to pack on the charm, that boy. And as the night winds down, we help with a little bit of clean up, and I head home, in my beat up old pickup truck. She's a beauty though. Never gives me a lick of trouble, so I'm keeping her until she falls apart. It's also handy that my drum kit fits perfectly back in the flatbed.
But as I sit in the back of my beater, I find myself watching, waiting, for Stella to leave. Again, not sure why. I have to talk myself out of following her home. Something inside me tells me that with a personality like that, around here, she'll need an escort.
…and in the coming days I'll find out why.
"No, no, little man." I chide gently, tousling the third grader's hair, as he beats the drum. "It's on the one, not the two. Here, try that again."
The class is working on a Christmas song, for the concert. We're performing a rock tune that I made up myself, with the help of the class. It's a rocking diddy that'll be sure to knock the socks of parents, but getting the class to play in time together is like pulling teeth.
"Err…Mr. Walters?" Mrs. Lind, the school principal, calls to me.
"Yes, ma'am?"
She's got the cutest little girl standing next to her. I've never seen her before, so she must be new.
"This is Nicole. She's just starting here new this morning." Mrs. Lind says by way of introduction. "Her mama just dropped her off now. Can you find her a place, please?"
"I sure can." I hold out my hand, so little Nicole can come my way. She's as cute as a button, with little blonde curls, pink cherub lips, and big blue eyes. The cutest little eight-year-old I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot, since I've been teaching at this school for more than five years. "Welcome, Nicole. How are y'all doing today?"
She smiles shyly, wagging her head, curls bouncing all over. "Are you excited to come to this school?"
"Uh huh."
"Now, what instrument do you like to play, darlin'? You can choose any one that you like."
"I like the cymbals."
"Well, that's perfect, doll. Nobody's playing the cymbals. You go on and take those from over in the corner there, and I'll get you settled, okay? I'm Mister Walters. If you can't remember that, you can call me Coop, which is short for Cooper. That's what everyone calls me, just don't tell Mrs. Lind that, okay?"
She smiles and then runs over to the cymbals, just as I hear a tap on the doorjamb. I look up and am shocked to see a familiar and unexpected face appear. I crane my neck as I see Stella's face. "Hi there." I chuckle, and I'm sure that my expression tells the tale.
"Um, hi. My…err…daughter, Bean…err…Nicole." She breathes a small laugh. "Sorry, Bean is what I call her." Her face turns beet red. "I forgot to give her her lunch."
I walk over to her and take the small cooler bag from her hand. "This is your daughter?" I ask, pointing at Nicole, who is meticulously checking out the cymbals in various sizes, along the side of the wall, completely oblivious to me and her mama talking.
"Yes." Stella nods. "I've got to go. I'm late for an appointment." She explains, as nervous as ever. Just as she says this, a throng of noisy fifth graders come shooting down the hallway, and I have half a mind to shout at them, but Stella is scurrying away from me so fast.
"Wait, Stella!" I call, but she doesn't answer.
This time, I go after her. I try calling her again, but she doesn't answer. I take off into a clip, and gently grab her arm, as the fifth graders veer off into the gym, and quiet down. "Stella, wait."
The look on her face is sobering. I don't know what to make of it. I search her eyes, wondering why she's running from me, now for the second time. It's not that she's bashful for my benefit, like she's got a crush, I'm certain of that. No, this is something else. Then a lightbulb goes off, but I don't share my hunch with her. Somehow, she can read my mind, and it's unsettling.
As I remove my hand from her arm, she looks at me, with this expression that I've never seen before on anyone, ever. I speak first. "What's going on, Stella?" I ask, and that strange look reappears on her face, like I've just cursed at her.
"Stella…" I stammer. "Why don't you stop when I call you?"
She swallows. Her voice quivers as she speaks.
…"Because that's not my real name."