Craving Constellations
Page 55
It was fun to see Dragon in his element, drinking beer with the boys and giving the recruits a hard time. I’d never had the chance to see him interact with the boys before, but I wasn’t surprised by the respect he seemed to have inside the club. It gave me a feeling of family that I hadn’t had in a long time.
I was sitting on Dragon’s knee, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, while he talked to Grease when the band started its first set. I was familiar with all of the songs they sang. Not only were they covers, but they hadn’t changed much over the years. There were newer versions of some of the songs, but for the most part, they stuck to what they considered the classics. It wasn’t until they paused after “Crazy Train” and the lead singer Jimmy started speaking that I paid any attention to what they were doing.
“Now, we’ve been missing someone for five looooooong years!” Jimmy exaggerated into the microphone, and my forehead dropped as I groaned into Dragon’s shoulder. “Brenna, my darlin’, I need you! Make an old man happy!”
All of the old club members hooted and hollered while the newest looked at me in confusion, including Dragon. There was no way I was getting out of it, so I just gave Dragon a quick kiss and stood up.
“I’ll be right back. If they don’t let me go, please come save me.”
The yells got louder the closer I got to the stage, and the minute Jimmy grabbed my hand and pulled me up to stand with him, the air was filled with cheers. I leaned into his microphone and smiled ruefully.
“I haven’t done this in five years. Be kind!”
The whole crowd laughed, and a piercing whistle came from the picnic table where Dragon and Grease were sitting. When I looked over, Grease had a huge smile on his face, and Dragon was watching me closely. I looked around for Trix in the crowd of kids, and I found her standing still in the midst of the chaos, watching me. I gave her a wink, and she smiled huge before I walked to the back of the stage where Harry was sitting.
“You ready to go have a beer, old man?” I asked him with a grin.
My hands were sweating in nervousness, and I wiped them on my thighs before I sat down behind his drum kit.
When I was about six, I wanted to join dance class. I was in heaven when Pop let me go. Vera was my chauffeur, driving me to and from class twice a week for two weeks, while Pop was on a run. When he got back, I was so excited to show him what I’d learned that I’d dragged him to class. I’d had no idea the drama it would cause. I had no reason to think that anyone would have a problem with my pop. I didn’t notice the dirty looks the country club mamas gave him as he sat on the edge of the floor, watching me twirl and prance. I’d been completely focused on him and the proud look on his face. I’d felt like I was walking on the clouds.
The next week, it was back to Vera driving me to and from class, but everything else was different. The other children didn’t talk to me, and the dance teacher spoke to me like I was a pesky fly she couldn’t get rid of. I was devastated but determined, and this went on for three more weeks before Pop had had enough and pulled me out.
I was heartbroken, but Pop thought if I liked dance, then maybe music would be a good outlet for me. Instead of twice a week lessons at the local dance studio, Vera drove me over to Jimmy’s garage where the band practiced. At first, I was pissed. I wanted to be a pretty ballerina. I didn’t want to try and work my fingers around the frets on a guitar neck. It wasn’t long before the boys knew guitar wasn’t going to be the instrument for me. I picked up the rudimentary chords pretty quickly, but I was bored. Wayne, the bass player, was the only member who was classically trained, but he said he’d be damned if he was going to buy me a fucking flute or clarinet. A few weeks went by where they tried to get me interested in the piano, but they eventually gave that up, too. It wasn’t until I stepped behind Harry’s drum kit that I found my place.
I was too small to sit, so I stood behind it as I beat on the drums the first time. Only my eyes and the top of my head showed over the set of toms, but it was love at first beat. It turned out that I had an affinity for percussion. I sat quietly while Harry explained what sound each piece made, and from then on, I was hooked. I was by no means some child prodigy, but I was good, really good. I played with them on Tuesdays and Thursdays for ten years. My skills improved rapidly, but steadily, over the years until one day I was as good as Harry. My recitals were club barbeques, and I had a captive audience of family every time I climbed on stage.
I probably could have applied for a music scholarship when I went to college. Wayne had taught me to read music, and I could play anything he put in front of me, but I had been reluctant to turn something I loved to do into something I had to do. I’d been afraid it would take the magic away. I’d played at random barbeques I went to during college, but when I left the club, I never played again.
It had been over five years since I played, and my fingers felt stiff and awkward at first, but within the first few beats of “Paradise City,” it was like I was reconnecting with an old friend. I sat behind the kit, the world around me fading away, as I played song after song with the men who’d taught me more about music than most people learn in their entire lifetime. I pounded my frustration and pain of the last five years into the drums, and by the time I was finished, my hair was sticking to my neck and the sides of my face with sweat.
I stood up at the end of the set and met Pop’s eyes across the yard. The things I’d done, the pain I’d put him through, the frustration and the anger—none of that mattered. He still watched me with the same proud smile on his face that I’d seen when I was six years old, twirling around that dance studio. Those mamas, the ones who’d acted like I was trash? They had no idea the family I’d had growing up. They wouldn’t understand the support and love that surrounded me every day of my life. Pop may not have been the best man. He was the vice president of a motorcycle club, a killer, and a thief, but when he looked at me, all I saw was the man who’d loved me unconditionally from birth. Nothing would ever change him in my eyes.
I was sitting on Dragon’s knee, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, while he talked to Grease when the band started its first set. I was familiar with all of the songs they sang. Not only were they covers, but they hadn’t changed much over the years. There were newer versions of some of the songs, but for the most part, they stuck to what they considered the classics. It wasn’t until they paused after “Crazy Train” and the lead singer Jimmy started speaking that I paid any attention to what they were doing.
“Now, we’ve been missing someone for five looooooong years!” Jimmy exaggerated into the microphone, and my forehead dropped as I groaned into Dragon’s shoulder. “Brenna, my darlin’, I need you! Make an old man happy!”
All of the old club members hooted and hollered while the newest looked at me in confusion, including Dragon. There was no way I was getting out of it, so I just gave Dragon a quick kiss and stood up.
“I’ll be right back. If they don’t let me go, please come save me.”
The yells got louder the closer I got to the stage, and the minute Jimmy grabbed my hand and pulled me up to stand with him, the air was filled with cheers. I leaned into his microphone and smiled ruefully.
“I haven’t done this in five years. Be kind!”
The whole crowd laughed, and a piercing whistle came from the picnic table where Dragon and Grease were sitting. When I looked over, Grease had a huge smile on his face, and Dragon was watching me closely. I looked around for Trix in the crowd of kids, and I found her standing still in the midst of the chaos, watching me. I gave her a wink, and she smiled huge before I walked to the back of the stage where Harry was sitting.
“You ready to go have a beer, old man?” I asked him with a grin.
My hands were sweating in nervousness, and I wiped them on my thighs before I sat down behind his drum kit.
When I was about six, I wanted to join dance class. I was in heaven when Pop let me go. Vera was my chauffeur, driving me to and from class twice a week for two weeks, while Pop was on a run. When he got back, I was so excited to show him what I’d learned that I’d dragged him to class. I’d had no idea the drama it would cause. I had no reason to think that anyone would have a problem with my pop. I didn’t notice the dirty looks the country club mamas gave him as he sat on the edge of the floor, watching me twirl and prance. I’d been completely focused on him and the proud look on his face. I’d felt like I was walking on the clouds.
The next week, it was back to Vera driving me to and from class, but everything else was different. The other children didn’t talk to me, and the dance teacher spoke to me like I was a pesky fly she couldn’t get rid of. I was devastated but determined, and this went on for three more weeks before Pop had had enough and pulled me out.
I was heartbroken, but Pop thought if I liked dance, then maybe music would be a good outlet for me. Instead of twice a week lessons at the local dance studio, Vera drove me over to Jimmy’s garage where the band practiced. At first, I was pissed. I wanted to be a pretty ballerina. I didn’t want to try and work my fingers around the frets on a guitar neck. It wasn’t long before the boys knew guitar wasn’t going to be the instrument for me. I picked up the rudimentary chords pretty quickly, but I was bored. Wayne, the bass player, was the only member who was classically trained, but he said he’d be damned if he was going to buy me a fucking flute or clarinet. A few weeks went by where they tried to get me interested in the piano, but they eventually gave that up, too. It wasn’t until I stepped behind Harry’s drum kit that I found my place.
I was too small to sit, so I stood behind it as I beat on the drums the first time. Only my eyes and the top of my head showed over the set of toms, but it was love at first beat. It turned out that I had an affinity for percussion. I sat quietly while Harry explained what sound each piece made, and from then on, I was hooked. I was by no means some child prodigy, but I was good, really good. I played with them on Tuesdays and Thursdays for ten years. My skills improved rapidly, but steadily, over the years until one day I was as good as Harry. My recitals were club barbeques, and I had a captive audience of family every time I climbed on stage.
I probably could have applied for a music scholarship when I went to college. Wayne had taught me to read music, and I could play anything he put in front of me, but I had been reluctant to turn something I loved to do into something I had to do. I’d been afraid it would take the magic away. I’d played at random barbeques I went to during college, but when I left the club, I never played again.
It had been over five years since I played, and my fingers felt stiff and awkward at first, but within the first few beats of “Paradise City,” it was like I was reconnecting with an old friend. I sat behind the kit, the world around me fading away, as I played song after song with the men who’d taught me more about music than most people learn in their entire lifetime. I pounded my frustration and pain of the last five years into the drums, and by the time I was finished, my hair was sticking to my neck and the sides of my face with sweat.
I stood up at the end of the set and met Pop’s eyes across the yard. The things I’d done, the pain I’d put him through, the frustration and the anger—none of that mattered. He still watched me with the same proud smile on his face that I’d seen when I was six years old, twirling around that dance studio. Those mamas, the ones who’d acted like I was trash? They had no idea the family I’d had growing up. They wouldn’t understand the support and love that surrounded me every day of my life. Pop may not have been the best man. He was the vice president of a motorcycle club, a killer, and a thief, but when he looked at me, all I saw was the man who’d loved me unconditionally from birth. Nothing would ever change him in my eyes.
