Musicminds' Blog

Cassy's POV

I wake the next morning to my phone buzzing against my face. I fell asleep again with it close to me. That has been a new habit of mine. Ever since that awful night a few months ago. I open my eyes and pick up my phone and see a new text message. Its from Dom.

Up for the beach?

I smile and begin to text back when my mom enters my room.

"Good morning, honey. Here is some of your laundry." She puts a stack of clean, folded clothes on the foot of my bed. I smile up at her tiredly. She always does my laundry and I can't thank her enough. I can be usually very lazy and my room is pretty messy most of the time. I just dont like doing housework and cleaning and stuff.

"Thanks mom. You're the best."

She smiles at me, "So what are you up to today?"

I glance at my phone and remember, "Oh, I am going to the beach today with the band. We've been planning on going for sometime now. Have a break and just relax for once."

She sits down next to me and looks at me hard with the same eyes I have.

"That sounds great. You guys have been working really hard." She pauses while keeping her eyes glued to mine. "Have you been crying?"

I look away quickly. I had tried to avoid this. I dont want her to know I've still been crying.

"No, why do you say that?"

"You'r eyes are a little puffy and red." She puts a hand through my hair. I look away and sigh, "Mom, I just woke up, I am still tired that's all. We had a late show last night and then went to IHOP afterwards. Its been a long night."

She smiles at me and gets up to leave, "Okay then honey. Breakfast is downstairs."

I thank her and get to my phone to text Dom about when we are leaving for the beach and with who. Now it's the time for my daily routine of getting ready. Some people may call me a narcissist, but I dont think so. I dont necessarily love myself, I just love to put makeup on and style my hair. It's a passion of mine and being in front of the mirror for about an hour and a half in the morning is just who I am.

I go into my bathroom which is my own, connected to my bedroom. I love having my own bathroom, one of the luxuries of living with my parents. I turn on the shower and step under the warm, relaxing water. I let the stresses from yesterday wash away and can't help but tear up. What is with me? That stupid night happened months ago. Why am I getting emotional all of a sudden just because of The Who playing on the radio? I try to just let the worries go and grab my Bed Head Moisture Maniac Shampoo and lather my hair. I just love the smell of the stuff. Ten minutes later I am finished with my shower and drying my hair. I straighten it up a bit and start to tease it all poofy with my strong hair spray. I use so much hair spray. Toby said its really bad for the environment, but Toby smokes and drives a car and thats bad for the environment too right? Now fifteen minutes later I am applying my make up and brushing my teeth. After applying my glittery mascara, I head to my closet and put on my favorite tight blank pants and my Paramore tank top. I know, why am I wearing pants to the beach? I am just 'traveling' in them. I will change over there. Finally my phone buzzes. Its been awhile. I took a shower, and got ready and now Dom replies? I head over to my bed and pick up my phone.

Jerry is taking us. Meet at his house at around 11. Is that okay?

Jerry is taking us? He always takes us. Can't someone else ever volunteer to drive? Well, I guess he has all the money to do it. Gas prices doesn't matter to him at all and probably never will. I envy that about him. I mean, he was born into money. Sometimes I wonder why he even cares to be in the band with us. Like why isn't he just doing his own thing? Maybe he isn't as greedy as I imagine him to be.

I go downstairs and grab a bagel from the freezer and put it in the toaster. As I wait for it to toast, which takes forever, I make myself a fruit smoothie and start cutting up some fruit. I am going to enjoy today and not let my past get in the way. I hope.

Ten minutes later I am outside Jerry's neighborhood's gate. I roll down my window to tell the gate guard where I am going. He seems new; I've never seen him before.

"ID please." He bluntly says, without any emotion. Kinda reminds me of Kiley. I hand over my ID to him and smile.

"I am a friend of Jeremiah Armstrong. I am going over to visit." He eyes me suspiciously.

"Of course you are. Let me call Mr. Armstrong, just to be sure."

I roll my eyes. Jeez! I mean come on! I am not a stupid fan trying to stalk him and catch him in his underwear! I come through these gates often enough to be somewhat recognizable. The guard goes back into his booth and calls the Armstrongs. In the meantime, I get a text from Jerry asking where the hell I am. Argh! So annoying! I dont bother texting back because he will find out any second now since the stupid guard is calling him.

The guard comes out and lets me go past the gate. I give him a fake smile and drive forward. Jerry's neighborhood is very upscale. I mean a bunch of celebs live here and multi-milllionaires. All the lawns are beautifully manicured with nicely shaped bushes and trees, flower beds in every shades disperesed everywhere. The roads aren't even the regular black asphalt. They are nicely rowed redish bricks. I drive on and turn onto Jerry's street.

You can't see much of any of the houses because tall brick walls and bushes cover the properties. It's so well protected here for all the 'special' people. I stop before the cast iron gate in front of Jerry's property and roll down my window to press the call button. I wave to the video camera suspended above the gate as I hear Jerry's voice through the speakers.

"Yo Cassy! Waz up? Sorry about the guard. I keep telling him to just let people who are on my 'okay list' through after the ID check, but he just wants to be sure you are not some alien in disguise or something."

"Oh thank you Jerry, because I look so much like an alien." I wave him off and roll my eyes.

"No, no, I said, 'in disguise'!"

"Are you gonna let me in or not?" It comes out a little harsh, but I'm dying in the heat here with my window down.

The gate opens. "See ya in a sec." I move my car up his drive and park in front of his house next to everyone else's cars. Great, everyone is already here. I am always fucking late. I know how much they love that.

I get out of the car and go up the stone steps to his huge front door. Anytime I am up at his door, I feel like a midget, because it is just so huge! I ring his doorbell and his mother opens it. She is in her usual rocker attire and her hair is up in a messy bun. I think she is just gorgeous, no wonder Jerry has his looks. I mean, imagine having Adrienne Nasser for a mom and not to mention Billie Joe Armstrong for a dad! She smiles at me and just as she is going to give me a hug, their little pomeranian, Killer, runs out of the house.

"Killer! Get back here!" She yells in a mid-hug. "Killer!" She runs past me into the blazing sun. I can't help but start to laugh. There dog is a small, white fuzz ball, named Killer. I mean, wouldn't you laugh? Seeing it yelp its little fuzzy butt off? I walk myself inside and let the chill of the AC hit my face as all the aromas of an expensive home wharf through my nose. Is that Chanel perfume I smell? I start heading to the stairs to Jerry's room but stop when I overhear a small arguement. It's coming from the kitchen. I am familiar enough with Jerry's house, so even though I know its not good to eavesdrop, I can't help but make my way over to the kitchen.

As I get closer, I recognize the voices as Jerry's and his father's. I peek from behind the entryway to the kitchen from the dining room and see both of them at the center island. Jerry is sitting on one of the bar stools with his head in his hands, elbows on the island, looking pissed off. His father is across from him, standing with his hands on his hips, the curves in his face matching those of his sons.

"You need to take all of this much more seriously." He pauses because Jerry is lolling his head all around his neck in ignorance. "Jerry! Are you even listening to a word I am saying?"

Jerry sighs and faces his father, "Yes, dad, I'm listening. I'm sitting here, aren't I?" Billie rolls his eyes and puts his hands in his pockets in frustration. I see his lips tense as he grits his teeth.

"That doesn't mean that you are listening! Now either you take better care of your diabetes or you will have an on call nurse with you at all times, and I know how embarrasing that would be." I hear a laugh and a whispered comment from Jerry before his dad continues with, "An older nurse. Like old as in your grandma's age."

Jerry whips his hands around at his father with a look of bewildermint. "Dad! Hellz no! No fucking way!"

"Don't you dare talk to me that way, I'm your father!" His dad whips a finger out and points at Jerry before calming back down. "Is your pump even on?" I can see that it isn't. "Show me."

"It's not on." Jerry's voice is barely audible and he looks away uncomfortably.

"Oh, what's that, it's not on?"

"Dad, please, I don't want to hear this right now!" Jerry bangs his hands in fists on the countertop and gets up.

"You get your ass back in that chair right now!" For some reason Jerry obliges and sits back down. "You're a fucking mess right now! And when's the last time you tested, hmm? I bet your levels are off the charts in one direction or another, especially since you're giving me this attitude."

"When I woke up two hours ago it was 130. I'm fine dad, you don't need to worry about me so much. I've been doing this since forever, in case you haven't been around to witness it."

"I just don't want anything to happen to you. You're setting an example for your younger brothers. They look up to you and if they see you sick, they are going to be very worried."

Jerry rolls his eyes and gets off the stool. "Okay, okay, I'll keep a closer eye on things. Will that keep you off my back?"

"You keep your pump on you at all times unless you are swimming or bathing, you understand? And test yourself, please. You tend to go really low and then you-"

"Go really high, I know dad. It's my body. I'm aware of how it works."

"Just please, pay attention to what's going on."

"I'm fine dad! Besides, Kiley is practically my nurse anyways!" Billie follows Jerry as he gets off his stool and starts heading my way.

"Kiley shouldn't have that responsibility! She is a young girl and she is a good friend. I am sure that she wishes you would take better care of yourself so she can enjoy your company in a more normal way. Also your mother mentioned to me that you came home pretty drunk last night. Care to explain that one for me?"

Jerry gets all wide-eyed and looks a little insulted. "I was not drunk! I swear! I went to IHOP with the band after the show and then came home. That's all! I promise!"

Billie doesn't seem to buy it and I start to panic as they make their way over to me. I decide my best bet is to hide behind the bar counter. I leap over there and squat down. It would suck to be caught in that awkward situation.

"Look, dad, I can take care of myself. Just please, can you get off my back now? Everyone is waiting to go the beach and I think Cassy just got here."

The two of them head to the front door and I realize its my chance to go through the kitchen and meet them there.

I get there just in time and try and make it look like I really just arrived. Adrienne, Jerry's mom, comes in holding Killer in her arms, looking flustered. Her messy bun from earlier, is now a very messy bun and her face is a little red. She closes the door and puts Killer down. He scurries off, the sound of his tiny nails on the marble floor echoing down the hall.

Jerry and Billie appear and I smile at Jerry when he sees me. He smiles slightly and puts his hand on my shoulder to lead me up the stairs. Billie and Adrienne start talking and I smile down at them as we make our way up the stairs. They dont look too happy.

I follow Jerry down the upstairs hallway towards his bedroom at the end of the hall. I really like that, to get to his room, you have to go up like five extra stairs. When we walk in Toby is sitting at Jerry's computer desk typing away on the Mac, Dom is out on his balcony smoking, and Kiley is sitting on his bed just staring at the floor. I wonder whats up with her? She is always looking so angry all of the time!

Jerry heads over to his bed and plops down next to Kiley. Kiley slightly flinches when he does this and she scoots away from him. Weird.

"Hey guys, sorry I am late. I have a good reason though! The stupid guard wouldn't let me through." I try to look as innocent as I can, but the guys don't really seem to buy it or care. No one comments on my little excuse. Whatever. The only legit movement in the room is Jerry as he gets up from the bed and starts putting things together for our trip. That's when I wonder: Shouldn't he have done that earlier?

"Alright, let's go. Everyone ready?" Jerry stuffs things into a gym bag as he asks the group. He grabs a dark blue beach towel and his black trunks from the towel rack on the door of his bathroom. He disappears inside and comes back out with his insulin pump in his hand, the wire hanging and swinging around beside him as he moves.

"We've been ready to go for like an hour now." Toby scoffs at the computer before he closes it. Jerry clips his pump on and starts pressing buttons. I look away because I don't want him to think I'm staring.

Jerry sighs, "Geez guys, come on, it's not like we are in any sort of hurry." Dom puts out his cigarette and Kiley gets up from the bed to grab her bag. "Anyone got sunscreen? I can't find mine." Jerry asks as he goes through his gym bag.

"I've got some." Kiley replies in monotone.

Jerry smiles back at her. "Thanks Kiles, you always got my back." Kiley's face remains blank. I know she is usually cranky and all, but this is like uncharacteristicly cranky. I wish I could ask her what's wrong, but we never really got along much to begin with so I know that asking her will just make matters worse.

The bunch of us head towards the Armstrong's black Escalade and pile in, Toby, of course, calling 'shotgun' the moment Jerry hits the automatic starter. The Escalade is just one of many of the Armstrong's cars. Jerry rambles off their names and owners as we pile in, since his mother just got a new car or something and Dom keeps commenting on it. Jerry himself has a silver Mercedes Mclaren Mini SLR and his sister Ashley has a pink TT Coupe Audi. Billie Joe usually drives his classic blue 67 Ford Fairlane, and Adrienne has a new white BMW M6 Convertable. This SUV is usually reserved for their all too common trips to the airport, etc.

"Can we go." Kiley muses from the back seat. She's still in her mood. Well, her unusually cranky mood.

"We just need to make one stop before we hit paradise." Jerry yells excitedly as he turns up the music and rushes through the open gates. "Walmart!"

And we're off, speeding through this dream-like chunk of mansions, Jerry at the wheel and the bunch of us bouncing around in the back. I can't wait to just sit in the sun and enjoy my day. If only.

Kiley's POV

I've got to say, we played pretty good. Even through all the drama that occurred before we were on. I can tell Cassy is still being bitchy about what Jerry said to her, but I mean come on. Who is she to say something like that to him, to anyone? Plain rude, that's what it is. The first time I met her I really thought we could be friends, but after a few weeks, it just clearly wasn't meant to be.

"Yo, Kiley, hello?" Dom shouts over to me and I realize that I am blocking his way through the narrow doorway from backstage to the parking lot. I quickly snap out of my daze and step aside.

"Sorry Dom." I reply. I let him past and then go back to the stage to help Jerry unplug and disconnect everything. He looked a little flustered trying to take the black tape off the floor and had to stop for a second to clear his head or something.

"Need help?" I leaned down while he looked up at me.

"Did you get all the tape off your keyboard? We've got like 5 more minutes." He replied looking around the stage at all the unfinished work.

How stupid of me, it must of looked so obvious that I wanted to help him. My keyboard isn't even close to being packed up. I get up without saying a word and just sigh. I start putting things away and notice Cassy at the bar in the back of the room flirting with some guys. You've got to be kidding me! I catch Toby's eye as he carries speakers off the stage and he just shakes his head.

"Don't even try Kiley, she will start another argument."

This comment catches Jerry's attention and he looks toward Cassy and gets up from the floor. He makes his way off the stage and over to the back of the bar while some fans pat him on the back and congratulate his performance. He ignores them and just keeps moving towards the back of the room, to Cassy. I notice him tap her shoulder lightly and she looks at him like he did the most awful thing in the world. They start to bicker and it almost turns into a heated argument until one of the guys Cassy was flirting with says something to Jerry. He just walks off looking very pissed off. I haul my Moog off the stage and set it down by all our equipment.

Jerry starts coming towards me and I can see that he is in deep thought. He bumps into me from not looking up, looks up, then keeps on going. What was that all about?

I follow him out of the venue, out the back door towards our cars and stop with him when we are stopped by a man in a black suit.

"You guys did a great job, I have to say I was very impressed. How long have you guys been together?" the man doesn't even look at me, just at Jerry. Of course. Always Jerry. He's probably going to ask him all these questions about his father and his father's band. I move past Jerry and the annoying man towards Dom's truck. He' already in the driver's seat about to turn the engine on, when he looks at me.

"What's taking Jerry? Don't you guys want to make it to IHOP before it closes? Hah! Just kidding! IHOP never closes!" I roll my eyes at his sense of humor and lean in the passenger window. "I don't know. That guy's complimenting him. This might take awhile." Dom stares at me while I say this and I glare at him.

"What?" I snap. He looks away saying, "Nothing" in a sing song voice.

Finally Jerry makes his way over to his car and gets in. Cassy gets into Dom's car and Toby and I head into Jerry's.

"What was that all about?" I ask Jerry as he starts to pull out of his parking spot.

Jerry has a hint of a smile on his face, "Well, that guy really liked the way we played and would like to hear us again. Guys, he owns a record company! Maybe this is our big break!" Jerry starts getting all excited and I smile back at him.

"That's great! Did you get contact info with him?"

"Yup, I told him we play Saturday night and he said he will bring his co-workers to see what they have to say."

I look at Jerry and he notice that he looks happy, but nervous.

"What's with that look?"

"Oh, I just hope Cassy gets her shit together you know? Like we are this close to making it and if she pulls stunts like being late and not helping out, I will seriously... I don't know, I just hope she wont do anything like that again."

I couldn't agree more.

Dom's POV

"I really hate this song, change the station." Cassy mumbles to me as she rummages through her gigantic leather purse for what, I don't know. I hesitate to grab the knob because it's a classic. Who Are You by The Who is pulsing through my truck and I want nothing more than to keep it on and rock my head to the beat. I decide to ignore her request by turning it up a notch and pound against my steering wheel with my pointer fingers as we stop at a red light. "They sound like fucking owls! Turn it off!" I continue to pound and scream the chorus while Cassy has her shit fit. "Dom, fuck, turn it off!" She is screaming now, and it's scaring the shit out of me. Her tone is one that I've never heard before and the look on her face tells me that she just might kill me with her huge Donald and Berkley whatever bag. Who knew someone could be so annoyed by The Who? I turn the volume down and change the station. Katy Perry's voice resonates in my speakers and I roll down the window so that I don't throw up at the sound of her autotuned voice. Cassy faces the window, quite aware that she has just had a wicked outburst with what seemed like no apparent reason. But I know Cassy and I know there's a reason. She just isn't telling me, and I'm not sure if she ever will. Her arms fold across her chest like she's cold, but I know she isn't because she rolls down her own window and stares off outside of it. I wish I could catch a glimpse of her face in the mirror, read what's going through her head by the glaze of her eyes. The light turns green and someone honks at me from behind because I'm not paying attention. They honk again. And again. In my rearview mirror I see that it's Jerry behind us. I hit the gas and speed ahead so I can get into the left turning lane. He holds the horn down, being bold as usual, as I pull into the IHOP parking lot. What an ass. Be he forgot I have his favorite guitar in my backseat.

I turn my engine and lights off and sit there in the darkness. Cassy is checking her face with a small compact from her purse, wiping down around her eyes and chin. She's been crying. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Just leave it, Dom. Please." The passenger seatbelt clanks against my truck's interior panel as the door squeaks open and is slammed shut. I lean back in my seat with my arms behind my head and take a deep breath in and out. My eyes close.

"Arrgghhh!" Suddenly Jerry has catapulted himself into my open window, his face squished against my shifter and his hands dangerously close to my balls.

"Dude! Get off!" I'm trying to push him back out the window, but I know it's just a stupid move on my part. He's shimmying his waist and legs into my truck and there is nothing that I can do to stop it. My hands instantly cover my groin area while I close my eyes and hope he doesn't kick my face in on accident. "Smart, Jerry, real smart." I'm not pissed, surprisingly. I just want to get inside and get some of those chocolate chip pancakes. Foooood.

We take up a large roundish booth in the corner and begin hounding the menus for something to fill our starving bodies with.

"So guys, this recording scout came over to me after the show and gave me his card. I thought maybe we should discuss it." Jerry mentioned after we get some waters. He takes a long sip from his water and waits for comments.

"Remember what happened last time?" Toby mentions. For once he doesn't have his phone in his hands. Instead he's playing around with a napkin, folding it into some kind of origami looking thing.

"Maybe we should bring in a lawyer to read over the contract. A cheap one. Like from those 1-800 commericals?" Cassy adds.

"I have a better idea," Jerry grabs his water again and takes a few long sips before continuing. "Before I mention it though, you have to promise to be open minded. No unnecessary backlash." We all nod, saying our 'yeahs' and pretending that we're not going through the menus because we are starving. "We can have my father look over the contract. He knows his shit."

"I vote 'no'." Cassy voices. "I don't want people to think-"

"That my dad got us signed, I know. But hear me out," Drawn out sip. "If he's there maybe they won't bullshit us because they will know who he is."

"That's like him standing there making them sign us. No way. I refuse." Cassy crosses her arms again, her black hair bouncing around her head as she shakes it incessantly.

"Cass, even if we get signed, we don't know if we are even going anywhere. All that guy has is some mention of us, a copy of our basement album, and our live show from tonight. That's what he has to make his decision on, and he already thinks we are a good idea. There are four other guys like him on our backburners, excluding that one unfortunate mishap. We need to start really digging in and narrowing down. Do we really want to do this or are we just bullshitting?" With that he takes the last slurp of his water and the cup is dry. Everyone is looking up from their menus now, glancing around at one another. I rub my face and wait for the table to erupt into chaos. 1, 2, 3, 4...

Silence.

"I say we research these guys before we even get into contracts. I want to know who they've recorded, projects they are working on. We need to know who we are dealing with." Kiley says. There's actually emotion in her voice, which is almost as scary as bearing witness to Cassy's outburst in the car.

"Great thinking." Jerry says and goes to high five her. She looks up at him unamused, that look she always has on her face making me want to take a step back from her. I can't though, because she is sitting sandwiched between Jerry and me, and Cassy is on my left with her purse wedged against my thigh. Fucking Donnie and Berkshire and their ginormous purses. What does she have in there anyways?

"Ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?" Our waitress, a tall red headed mom chick has her notepad out and a smile on. Toby begins ordering from his side of the table, asking her a zillion questions about every dish on the first fold of the menu.

"You drank that water pretty fast." Kiley mentions quietly to Jerry as she looks through the menu one last time. I glance up and see that Jerry has Kiley's water up to his mouth, no straw this time. He's just downing that thing like he's just taken a trek through the desert. "And now you're drinking mine. Wonderful." Only Kiley could pull that off with the right amount of sarcasm and zero emotion. "What's your number?"

"Don't know, don't care." Resume gulping.

"And the sausage, can I substitute that with maybe one slice of bacon, and then a sausage, and then an extra biscuit?" Toby asks. The waitress seems to be getting rather frustrated with him, so I offer up his order so I can stop being obvious about listening to Jerry and Kiley have one of their weird, emotionless arguments.

"Just give him the eggs with bacon and a biscuit. He never eats the sausage. And a chocolate milk, since I know he ordered a soda and he's going to steal my drink instead. Thanks." I nod the waitress on to Jerry and collect the menus from the table. The rest of us order and continue on about the recording dude.

"We should get together and discuss the options. I think I have all the cards, so maybe we can look them all up next practice and figure out what's going on."

"I don't want your dad involved in any of this." Cassy has her arms crossed and she looks like she's going to stick her tongue out.

"We haven't even gotten that far, so let's just deal with it all as it comes." I mediate. I just want my food and a nice relaxing evening without fighting and bitching and moaning.

"Do you think that waitress can give me sausage instead of the bacon? I really want the sausage." Toby asks. I ignore him, as does everyone else. That's when I feel a vibration and take my phone from my pocket to see if I got a message. Once it's in my hand though, the seat of the booth continues to vibrate. Then stop. Then vibrate. Every few seconds. I look over to Jerry, since there is movement going on over there, and see him whip out his insulin pump. He clicks around on the thing and puts it back in his pocket. I can see that he is biting his lip, a sure sign that he's messed up big time but doesn't want to admit to it.

Kiley plays around with her straw wrapper in front of her, her eyes staring at the table with that crazy stare that she's so good at. The one where you know she's not really paying attention to anything going on around her and is off in her own head, thinking a zillion things at once. Still, something tells me she knows what's going on with Jerry. She just doesn't want to say anything; she doesn't need to communicate with him.

The table starts engaging in some kind of talk about a trip to the beach, Kiley and Jerry adding offers to drive or pay for gas like their little "silent" conversation never happened. Cassy complains, as per usual, her arm animations knocking me in the head and arm. I doze out for what is probably twenty minutes as I sit with my knees knobbed against each other and my arms squished against my chest because there is no room to move or breathe or do anything. My brain is busy wondering how the bunch of us even get along as the table is busy discussing drives home, band practice, and beach plans. Snippets of my friend's conversation float around my head until I'm brought back to life by the smell of pancake batter.

"Food's here!" Jerry announces for the whole restaurant to hear, though there's barely anyone up this late. The table becomes a stage for commotion as plates are passed around. Cassy elbows me in the rib. Toby complains about his lack of sausage. In the craziness going on, I feel my phone vibrate and alert me that I've gotten a text. It's Jordan.

I'm sorry.

Kiley's POV

So Jerry is driving recklessly down the highway as we head on home after IHOP. I'm pretty pissed that his sugar is skyrocketing as we speak, especially since I know he really doesn't care. Take his low where he drank that juice and downed all those glucotabs and add his midnight snack of breakfast grease and you have the makings of a nutty driver. I glance over at the speedometer. 80mph.

"Jerry, slow down. I'd like to get home in one piece, thanks." I say over the hum of his engine. My eyes follow the orange marker as it moves on the speed clock. 85. 90. "Jerry!" I feel the car decelerate and watch as Jerry's head starts falling side to side as he lollygags behind the wheel. Great. I coax him into pulling over and switch places with him. Ten minutes later we're at his house, waiting for the cast iron gates to open and let us onto the property. Jerry is drunk on sugar in the seat next to me, mumbling and leaning against the door with his head. That's when I know it's going to be one of those nights.

I try and support him as we enter his house, catching his mother in her robe on the way down the stairs. She rolls her eyes at the sight of him and makes a short comment, "When will that boy learn how to handle his alcohol?" I laugh nervously and continue trying to get him up the stairs, aware that his mother is just as zonked as Jerry by the way she is gripping that banister rail. Once I get him to his room he flops on the bed with his arms stretched over the sides. His knees hit the floor. If only his mother really knew what was going on...

"Kiles!" is muffled into his comforter.

"What?" I grumble as I stick his finger for the millionth time tonight. The screen blinks back a nice 303 in my face. Sugar? Way high. Insulin? You betcha. "You're over 300, numskull."

"Kiley, I-there's something I want need to tell you." I'm already going through his mini-fridge though, searching for the black zip bag with the insulin in it.

"Yeah?" I'm already rolling the vial to warm it up as I ask this, ready to grab a syringe from the box on his desk and give it to him so that I can go.

"I think, I think-" He pulls himself up onto the bed and flops onto his back, squirming around like he's had one too many beers and he can't figure out which way is up.

"Are you going to throw up?" I draw the right amount of liquid and tap it for air bubbles.

"Nooo." He whines. "No, I just wanted to tell you." I lift up his shirt and grab a chunk of skin to stab. "I'm in love with you. I love you." There I am, sitting next to him on his bed, ready to stick him with a needle, and he confesses his love, drunk, it seems, out of his mind.

"You need this." As I go to inject the insulin though, Jerry comes right up at me with his lips and matches, surprisingly, his onto my own. Caught off guard, I drop the needle and let him kiss me, at least three decent kisses, which I so shouldn't let him do. I kiss him back, but it's my body's doing, not my brain's. For a moment I'm lost in time. I feel dazed and confused, numb. That's when I feel the cold syringe against my hand and realize where I am and who I'm with. I back off immediately and grab the needle, breathless and so damn confused at what is going on.

"Kiles." He falls back on his bed and smiles at me like a child, grinning. I don't answer him because I know he's on the verge of sleep and I'm not really sure what I'd say anyways. I pinch his skin again like I've done so many times before, but it feels so different now. Something has changed, and I'm not liking how it feels. I push the plunger and watch his eyes close, hoping he forgets everything that has happened in the last five minutes. I clean up, shut his lights off, and lay beside him with his meter and a test strip ready. My hand goes to stroke his hair, but I stop it. Things are changing, things that can threaten the very foundation of our friendship, of the band. No one can know what just happened.

I listen to his breathing and wait for his breaths to become deeper and longer. That's my cue for a final sugar test, the one Jerry never even knows that I do. A nice number comes up on the meter and I decide it's time for me to go. I scurry on out of his house, locking the door behind me and leaving through the gate. From there it's a five block walk home, towards the middle-class section of town. Twenty minutes later I crawl into my own bed in a t-shirt and my undies, my hair a complete disaster from the night's events. I lay there in the darkness, wondering if tonight is going to be another sleepless night of worrying, hoping, mantras. I wake up after a solid six hours of sleep confused because I've actually gotten real sleep for the first time in two months. I try to rake through my brain and figure out if maybe I had a certain alcohol or something, but all I can remember is that kiss, the way our lips matched and felt magnetized when we parted. All I can see in my head is that smile and him closing his eyes. And I wonder, when did my life get so complicated?

Jerry's POV

“If Cassy’s not here in five minutes, she’s out.  I’m fucking sick of this.” I pull my guitar case from the back seat of Dom’s truck and slam the door shut with enough force to shake the car.  “Can you call her again?”

“She’s on her way.  Chill out.” Toby says without glancing up from his phone.  I swear his thumbs and eyes never leave that stupid piece of plastic, except maybe to play his bass.   I roll my eyes as I walk right past him and head for the stage area so that maybe we can get this show on the road sometime soon, with or without Ms. Sassy Cassy.  

“I can’t get my keyboard to come through on the speakers.” Kiley mentions to me before I even make it three feet into the place.  Her sudden appearance catches me off guard and I find that I have to catch my breath for a second. 

“Jesus, Kiley.  Why do you always do that?”  I use my hand as a signal for her to follow me as I walk closer to the stage.  She stays close to me, catching the back of my low Converses with her…moccasins?  Why is she -you know what, I’m not even going to ask her because I know she’ll just tell me to “deal with it”. 

“Sorry.” She mutters like she couldn’t give a shit as I fix it with my free hand and continue on with no acknowledgment of her lackluster apology.  I don’t take it personally.  I’ve known Kiley for almost ten years now, and I know that her “carelessness” is just her façade.  As we kneel down to check all of her connections to her Moog, I catch the lavender shampoo she uses and freeze.  The scent creates invisible curls around me, forcing my head to spin with dizziness.  In an instant I’m thinking about that see-through white shirt she has on and the yellow bra that’s beneath it.  Her straight, long brown/red hair.  And those skinny jeans on her thin, pale Irish skin…

“Jerry?”  I love that look that she always has on her face, the one that says ‘fuck off’ and how she’s got that teardrop birthmark on the back of her neck that you’d only know existed if...  “Hey, you okay?  Is your sugar low?”  I blink my eyes a few time and rush back to reality before I do something I regret.

“Sorry, I just got distracted for a second.”  I disregard her second question as I fix a loose connection and secure it with tape, though I’m sure that isn’t the real problem.  “Try your keyboard now.”  Before she can even bother me with another question I am halfway across the stage, pretending that Dom has asked me to help him assemble his drum set.  

“Yo, where’s Cassy?” Dom expertly adjusts his cymbal stands and waits for my answer.

“Who knows?  I’m pretty sure if we stood back and made her set up she wouldn’t even know where to start.  I bet you it’s that damn hair of hers that’s keeping her in front of her bathroom mirror.  Either that or some kind of lip gloss or eyeliner.”  The stress that I’m feeling comes out in a long, drawn out sigh.  Dom starts talking, but no matter how hard I try to focus on the words, my brain refuses to pick up on the syllables.  Instead I’m thinking about how big this show we are playing really is.  I know for a fact that there’s going to be an important person sitting at the bar in the back of the room, some middle aged man that no one else in the band will even notice.  He’s going to be listening intently and watching our every move as he sips some kind of drink, probably a rum and coke, making that big decision of whether or not we are worthy to add to his collection of recordees.  He’ll approach us at the end of the show as we’re loading our cars with our secondhand equipment, maybe make a comment on the Gibson Les Paul Jr. that he noticed I was playing, and purposely fail to mention that he knows who my father, who I, am.  No one else in the band even knows that we are going to be watched by someone other than our “fans”.  By someone that can make it all happen with the snap of his fingers.  If only we could just pull it together enough to make it really happen…   

That’s when Cassy waltzes in like she isn’t even late. Ugh. She drives me fucking nuts!  “Hey guys, what’s up? I am like so tired so can we not spend forever warming up?” She says to me as she flops down on the side of the stage with a Frappucino in her hand. She starts slurping through the straw and I can somehow hear it over the conversation going on in the room and the music playing through the speakers.

“Cassy, what the fuck?”  She ignores me as she sits there, her jet-black hair that matches her dark cutesy makeup moving as she sips her goddamn expensive cold coffee.  My body starts to shake in anger.

“Calm down man, we don’t need this right now.  She’s here and-“ Dom says, but I interrupt him.

“I can’t take this right now, I really fucking can’t.  I’ll be outside.”  I pause before leaving.  Kiley rolls her eyes and I give her a nasty look before storming off because she never opens her mouth to defend anyone but herself.  I go outside and light a cigarette, realizing on the first drag that I cannot live without them.  I get so stressed sometimes that it’s the only thing that calms me down.  Immediately it begins to make me feel better.  I stare at the traffic going by and think of what will happen to the band.  I really believe in it. Like we are so close to making it big. My dad wants to help us out, but I want to be able to make it without his connection.  I refused to let us be on his label, Adeline, because people would think that’s the only way we could get big, which I am sure they will still think even without his influence, but whatever.  I want to prove to everyone that I can do this.  That we all can.  I remember the day we started it.  It was back in my freshman year. Actually, that’s how most of us met. I mean, I had known Kiley since we were 10, but the other guys, we didn’t find each other until high school.  I suddenly start to feel a little dizzy and notice that my hands are a bit jittery.  Fuck.  I throw my cig to the ground and squish it in with my Converse before I scramble inside of the venue, the noise disorienting me as I try to find my way to my guitar case.  I grab a juice box from one of the velvet pockets and attempt to jab the straw in rather unsuccessfully.  Kiley appears in a heartbeat, as per usual.  She gets the straw in and has it in my mouth before I can even say anything to her.  I go to sit down and miss but am picked up and redirected by someone, Kiley I assume, who is asking me to give her my “fucking finger”.  My stomach does a whirl and all I want to do is lay down.  I’m shaking and I’m cold but sweating.  Wow, my sugar must be really low.  I haven’t felt this bad in a long time.  There’s a prick on my finger, but I don’t wince or even care that Kiley is checking my blood sugar level for me.  I don’t even care about rum and coke dude.  All I care about is the fact that I have my juice box and that Kiley is here.

“44.” She says and sits down next to me.  We’ve done this a bunch of times, the whole “low” routine, and I can’t help but wish she was always this personable.  “You want another juice box?”  Hearing that makes me wish I got lows more often.  Seems like it’s the only time Kiley’s actually nice.

“Last one.” I say, straw still in my mouth.  My eyes close and my head is suddenly on her shoulder, leaning.  I don’t want to move, even though I know Kiley hates body contact.  Surprisingly she doesn’t tense up under my weight.  My head continues to spin.

“Glucose tabs.  How many?” 

“Three.”  I continue sipping, the dizziness still running around in my head.  My stomach flips and I feel like I might throw up.  But somehow I feel fine, leaning here on Kiley.  I feel safe, like everything will be fine.  Maybe if I just take a quick nap…

Next thing I know I’m crunching down on one last cherry sugar tab feeling a lot better than I had ten minutes earlier.  Kiley is pricking me again, but I really don’t care.  I’m tired of doing it myself.  “85.  That’s an improvement.”

“Can we get this show on the road please?  We’re late and I don’t think we should keep the crowd waiting.” Cassy is bitching and I’m still feeling pretty crappy from my low.  I really have zero patience for her attitude right now and can’t help but want lash back.  I suck on my newly pricked finger and think of something to say to her.

‘I inconvenienced everyone by having a random low blood sugar and I deserve to be scolded, but it’s okay for you to spend forever doing your hair and grabbing a fucking iced coffee ten minutes before we’re due for curtain.’ wants to come out, but I stop myself and take a deep breath before getting up and grabbing my guitar.  Our group does the quickest warm-up/sound check we’ve ever done before finding our places and settling in.  That’s when I think of it, the perfect line.  Or at least, it seems perfect, because I’m still not thinking straight. 

“I’m sorry for having diabetes, Ms. Sassy Cassy.” It comes out really sincere, like I’m apologizing for doing something I really didn’t mean to do.  “It won’t happen again, I promise.”  Dom clicks his drum sticks before she can even get a word in and we break out into our first song while I hope that the rum and coke dude I see sitting at the bar is here to change out lives.