In the Lyrics Read online

  Fuck cancer.

  “YOU’VE GOT TO start getting your hair out of the drain! It’s disgusting and looks like a cat threw up,” I shout, annoyed that this is the hundredth time I’ve told her this.

  “Okay, Dad.” Rolling her eyes, she walks into the bathroom and brushes by me. Grabbing a handful of hair that is collected around the drain, she tosses it into the wastebasket.

  “See, it wasn’t that hard, now was it?”

  Having a roommate sucks, having Brittani as a roommate sucks even more.

  “It wasn’t hard, but I know something that I can make hard,” her voice purrs.

  “Not now, I’m going to be late. You know Mitch has been a stickler about the time clocks since Regina quit. He’s got to do payroll now, and he hates it.”

  Brittani rolls her eyes and makes an ugly face. “Whatever.”

  Walking away, she shuts the door, and I lather up my face. She hates my beard. I love it. Debating on keeping it just to annoy her, I hold up my razor and glide it across the furry jungle that has become my cheek. It’s been itching like a patch of fucking poison ivy. It’s time for it to go, but it’s most definitely not because she wants me to cut it.

  Things between us are strange to put it mildly. She wants more, and she’s never going to get it, not from me at least. So she’s either a raging bitch or a slutty sex kitten begging me to bang her. Which I’d never do, not in a million years.

  “I’m headed out with the girls. See ya later,” I hear her yell from the other room, as I silently thank the lucky stars that she isn’t going to be around here today.

  This situation wasn’t by my choosing. That’s for sure. After Dusty decided to move out, I couldn’t make rent on my own. Trust me, I tried. Her parents were tired of the spoiled little girl they raised and decided it was best for her to move out and spread her wings. Somehow she flew in my direction and has been living here ever since.

  Opting for jeans, a plain V-neck black tee, and a grey beanie, I grab my jacket and head out the door. My phone rings as I climb into my truck.

  “Hello,” I say.

  Dusty’s voice laughs on the other end, and for the first time today, I feel normal, like things aren’t all fucked up in my life.

  “Hey, bro, long time no talk.”

  “For sure, man. How’s it going up north? You ain’t turned into one of those yuppie boys, have ya?” I tease.

  “Naw, man, you know that ain’t my style. How’s things on the home front?”

  If he only knew.

  “They’re good. Brittani’s the same, so that should answer your question.”

  “Bro, I don’t know why you got yourself into that situation. I know it ain’t my business, but shit, I’d rather sleep in a dirty ass stall at the center than in the same apartment as Bitch-ani.”

  The funny part is I’ve thought about it. I know Mrs. Blair wouldn’t mind. I’d be closer and be able to work more for her, but knowing there isn’t clean water or a warm bed helped me scratch that off my list.

  “So what’s up, D?” I ask, trying to get my rooming situation off his mind.

  “What do you mean ‘what’s up?’ Didn’t you hear? Oh shit, you haven’t, have you?” he rambles.

  “I think I’m missing something. What’s going on?”

  Clearing his throat he says, “Mr. Bradley died last night. He’s gone.”

  Mr. Bradley’s dead? The two don’t seem like they belong in the same sentence. I had known for a while he was battling cancer, but that was it. I thought that he was getting better. And now he’s gone? I wonder if Hensley knows. Should I call her? No, she’d probably rather not hear that kind of news from me. Has Dusty called her? I know from what he’s said, they don’t talk much – or ever – anymore.

  I knew the music industry changed people, but she drifted away from everyone. Including her roots, from what I’ve seen in the magazines. Where her hair was a dark brunette it’s now a lighter color, her skin is tanned, and her legs are covered in designer jeans instead of her ol’ worn out ones. She is still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life, but she isn’t the Hensley I once loved. The girl that took my breath away from the moment our eyes locked – I don’t know where that girl is. She left the moment she boarded a plane for California and she hasn’t been back since.

  “Have you called her?” Waiting for his answer, I start my truck and take off down the street. Passing Hensley’s childhood home, I wonder what I should do if he hasn’t called her. I’m sure Mrs. Bradley has contacted her. Why do I feel like I should play hero in this situation? I don’t owe her anything, but I still feel a sting of guilt. At one time I was her protector, and now, I’m a stranger to her. Anger fills my soul as I think about who’s protecting her now. It’s probably that dork, Will. Yeah, I’m lame, I know. I couldn’t help myself and Googled her one day. There were pages and pages with her and him. I remember a smile crossing my face when I noticed there weren’t any of them that looked semi romantic. They’re just in the same band, I repeated to myself. And then a few weeks later there was an article about Will coming out. He said, “Hensley has been more than a friend, she’s become family. And with her daily support and encouragement I am proud to say that I am gay.”

  “Honestly, I haven’t. I know I should. I just don’t know what to say. ‘Oh, I’m sorry we lost contact because you were too wrapped up in making your dreams come true that you forgot about everyone who helped you get there, but while I have you on the phone, your dad died.’ That doesn’t sound like the best idea. What should we do?”

  I have no clue.

  Pulling up to the bar, I park behind the back entrance. “I’m not sure. I just got to work though, so I’ll call you back later. Let me think about this for a few.”

  After saying our goodbyes, I walk inside and clock in a minute early. Mitch will be proud.

  “There’s my man!” Mitch hollers as I round the corner. Sliding in behind the bar, I hold out my hand to shake his.

  Mitch’s voice sounds flat as he asks, “Did you hear the news?”

  Is this what I’m going to hear all day?

  “Yeah, Dusty called to tell me,” I admit.

  “Oh yeah, how’s that little shit doin’ up north?”

  I burst out into laughter. It’s funny because that’s what I was thinking earlier. After he and Trevor broke up, he went on a little soul searching trip. His dream, much like Hensley’s, was always to get out of this town. He never thought about leaving on his own though. But that’s what he did. The end of his journey was in New York City. While he was there he met some people and one thing led to another. Deciding to stay, he dropped out of all of his classes and started modeling full time. Now he’s got a few gigs and a nice studio apartment. Music was always his dream, and as much as I bust his chops about smiling for a camera as a career, he’s doin’ something he enjoys. At least he has that. I’m bartending at Mitch’s for practically nothing while hauling hay and finishing up my education.

  “He’s good. You think we’ll be busy today? I have an accounting test I need to study for.”

  “Who knows, Colby? Who knows?” Leaving me wondering about his vague answer, he walks away.

  Lifting the lid of the bar’s cooler, I see that we’re running low on ice. Grabbing a bucket, I walk towards the back and fill it up and then start re-stocking the empty bottles behind the bar. Mitch offered me the assistant manager position when the redheaded witch quit. She was a bitch. I’m just going to say it and get it off my chest. Now I’m here cleaning up her messes on a daily basis. Things were bad for a while and there were a handful of unhappy customers, but things have been on the mend here lately. I guess people started noticing that we weren’t going to continue giving away free drinks. Lesson learned.

  Looking at the clock on the wall, it’s barely one o’clock. Grabbing my backpack, I pull out my book and folder and start studying while it’s quiet, knowing that I have a few solid hours before the afternoon crowd arrives.
r />   “MOM, I HONESTLY don’t care what flowers we pick. I’m just really tired. I know Dad wouldn’t mind either, so just decide on some, please.”

  We’ve been sitting in this stuffy funeral home for hours now. The clock on Mr. York’s desk says six forty-six. Yawning, I try to seem interested in the flower debate. Really, I don’t know why this wasn’t all done and figured out sooner. Dad’s been sick for a very long time, and my mom is a nurse. You’d think she would have had all of her ducks in a row.

  “Honey, the flowers are important. You know how much your dad used to enjoy his garden.”

  What is she talking about? Dad hated his garden so he ran it over with the riding lawn mower. Deciding it isn’t the time or place to argue about unimportant things, I play along.

  “You’re right, Mom, the flowers are important. I think you should pick the assortment of lilies. They’re my favorite.”

  Patting me on the thigh, she leans forward. “Please order the lilies, Mr. York. I know it’s what he would have wanted.”

  Going through the motions, we finalize the flowers, the casket, and the announcements, and then we decide on what to dress him in. It’s nearing eight o’clock by the time we’re buttoning our jackets to leave. I’m exhausted, depressed, and cranky all at the same time.

  “Mom, why don’t you head home and get some dinner going. I’m going to make a pit stop first.”

  I bend in her driver’s side and kiss her on the cheek before I shut the door. Watching her drive away, I climb in my car and drive a couple of blocks over to Mitch’s. I need a beer or maybe something stronger. This day is on my list of shittiest days ever. Knowing alcohol won’t fix it, I do think it might help take the edge off of things right now.

  Pulling up, I put the car into park and climb out. The parking lot doesn’t appear to be busy, which is strange to me. Mitch’s used to be the ‘it’ spot. At least it was after he let us play there. College kids flocked to the doors, but I guess it is still kinda early. Walking in, I notice the crowd is a lot older than I expected too. There are a handful of old men smoking pipes as the sounds of Western music are played overhead on the speakers. There are a few stools open at the bar, so I sit down and wait for the bartender to come up. Glancing up and down, I don’t see anyone behind the counter. Taking out my phone, I scroll through my emails while I wait. There are several from Will asking if I’m okay and wondering when I’m coming back, and there’s one from Robert. I skip past that one knowing that he’s probably being his overbearing self and demanding that I come back right now.

  “What can I get ya?” the sound of a familiar voice asks. My body stiffens and my face frowns as I feel like I’ve been sent back in time. This can’t be happening.

  Laying my phone down on the wooden counter, I slowly look up. This is happening. Colby is standing in front of me with a black shirt on and a white towel draped over one of his shoulders. The look on his face is anything but welcoming when he notices it’s me.

  “Hensley?” His voice sounds surprised as he says my name. I’d like to lie and say that the sound of it coming out of his lips doesn’t affect me, but we all know that isn’t true, because as soon as my name rolls off his tongue, the hairs on my arms stand up and time stands still around us.

  “Hi,” I choke as memories of our past plague my mind. He’s just as handsome as he was back then, if not more so.

  Both of his hands rise, and he places them on the bar’s counter in front of him, gripping it hard. So hard I’m scared once he let’s go of it, it’s going to crumble and fall to the floor.

  “Did you hear?” There isn’t a need to explain my question. We both know how fast word spreads around this town. He nods, and I know someone had to have told him. I just wonder who.

  “Can I please have two shots of tequila?” I ask, needing the warmth more than ever right now.

  Without a word he turns around and grabs a bottle. Within seconds he sets the two shots in front of me and quickly walks away. I down one without a chaser. I want to feel the sting and the burn. It’s a reminder that this is real. This whole day is real. My dad’s gone and Colby’s here, right in front of me, but I’m not stupid, I know what we had is long gone. Raising the second glass to my lips, I down it in an attempt to drown the memories. Checking the battery life on my phone, I see that I still have two full bars, which is good, because I can tell I’m going to need to call a cab to get back to my parents’ house.

  “Colby,” I wave him over like I own the place. He doesn’t say a word as he strolls over to me. His jaw is clenched and I can see it flexing as he bites his tongue, probably in a dire attempt to stop himself from telling me off. I abandoned him to live my dream. I deserve to be told to stick it where the sun don’t shine. But other than that little fact, what does he have to be upset about? His dad didn’t just die. “I’ll have two more, and this time I’m going to need a chaser. A beer would be great.” Reaching into my purse, I pull out my wallet and grab my credit card from inside. Holding it out in front of me, Colby hesitates to grab it.

  “Your money’s no good here, Hensley Bradley!” a voice calls out from behind me. Mitch grins as he walks up beside me, sits down on a stool, and throws his arm around my shoulders. “How the hell are you, darlin’?”

  My head jerks up to look at Colby. In the past, remarks like that from another man would get them clobbered, but he doesn’t seem to be affected by Mitch’s comment. The mere fact that he doesn’t seem bothered stings worse than the alcohol that coats my throat.

  Who are you kidding? Why should he be bothered? I’m nothing more than a thing of the past to him. I’m a complete stranger. At least the new me is.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “Well, we’re happy to have you here with us tonight. Drink and eat as much as you want. Maybe you’ll even be inclined to give us a little show.” He shrugs.

  “I don’t think I’m in any shape for that tonight, but how about before I fly out, I’ll stop by and do a few songs?”

  “That’s my girl. And I’m real sorry to hear about your father.” He leans over and gives me a small squeeze before walking off. When I turn back around, two shots, and a beer are sitting in front of me. Colby is nowhere in sight.

  My throat scorches as I drink my third shot and the sound of the stool moving beside me tells me it’s now occupied. I don’t have to turn to see who it is. I can smell his cologne.

  “When’d you start drinking like a fish?” Colby brings a beer bottle towards his mouth, his lips slowly parting before he holds the rim to his mouth and takes a sip.

  “When’d you start drinking?” I snap back remembering that he never drank before when we were together.

  “Touché.” He holds his bottle out to me. Grabbing mine, I hold it up and we clink bottles.

  There’s so much we could say, that needs to be said, but neither of us makes the first move. Instead we sit in silence. Downing my fourth shot, I know I’m drunk. Still to this day, I very rarely drink. If we’re at a function, I might have a glass of wine or something, but it’s never like this. My head is spinning as I close one eye and try to read the small letters on my cell phone screen. It’s from Dusty. Straining, I want so badly to read what it says, but my drunken brain won’t let me.

  I know I don’t deserve for him to talk to me after how distant I’ve been to everyone. Giving them the cold shoulder and living my life probably wasn’t the best move, but from the moment I belted my first note, my mom’s been pressuring me to flee this town. Once the opportunity knocked on my door, I took it and didn’t look back. I wish I would have looked back. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like such a failure to my friends.

  Colby breaks the silence, “Need some assistance?”

  Giggling, I respond, “It depends. Are you drunk too?”

  “Hensley, I’m working. No, I’m not drunk. But I can see you are. Here, give it to me.” He sounds annoyed as he holds out his hand, and I place my cell phone in it. My hand grazes his, and as soon as I feel
his skin touch mine, my heart rate speeds up.

  Trying to control my thoughts, I whisper, “It’s from Dusty.”

  “Yeah, it is. It says, ‘Hang in there, baby girl. You’re strong and beautiful. Call me.’”

  My racing heart drops into my stomach. My D still cares. Despite the distance, he’s still my best friend and he still cares about me. I’d feel on top of the world if I weren’t so drunk I can’t see straight.

  “Do you want me to text him back?” He spins my phone around in his hand as he sits beside me.

  Turning my head, I look Colby in the eyes, “Yes. Just type, ‘I love you.’”

  We both freeze for a few seconds as he takes in the words I just said. I don’t blink as I stare into his eyes, wishing he would understand my secret message. I love you, dummy!

  He pauses, and his hands don’t move. He just stares blankly back at me. I don’t know what he’s waiting for, but I wish I did.

  “All right.” Quickly typing the message, he presses send and hands my phone back to me.

  “I’ll have two more shots, please,” I request, knowing good and well I don’t need them. But after that little weird incident, I feel like I need to drink some more.

  He looks wary. “Are you sure? You look pretty wasted to me. How are you getting home?”

  “Always so responsible and chivalrous,” I croon under my breath. “I am wasted, Colby, but trust me, no amount of alcohol is going to drown out the pain I feel right now. So please, can you bring me another two?” Getting up off the stool, he walks around me and behind the bar. Pouring another two, he grabs my phone and dials a number.

  “Hey, it’s Colby. I have a lady who needs a ride. Be here in fifteen minutes.” Hanging up, he walks away. It was sweet of him to call me a cab, but I don’t need him saving me anymore. I’m grown now. I can take care of myself.

  Grabbing a napkin from behind the bar, I scribble down a message for Mitch. It probably looks like chicken scratch. I leave my number so he can reach me about playing a small gig and fold the napkin and place my empty glass on top of it.