Read Online American Love Songs by Ashlyn Kane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ashlyn Kane
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Jake was just stoned enough to wonder if Parker had some kind of crazy magical influence before he said, “Imma play a song now,” and his fingers started spanning frets easily.
Jake chanced a look back at Jimmy, who just shrugged and set down his drumsticks, and figured since he had no idea what Parker was doing and no desire to play another song (or in fact do anything other than park it and listen) 22 , he might as well sit down beside Parker and enjoy this.
A nice, leisurely lead-in eventually resolved into a recognizable song, and Jake smiled a little, though it felt strange, because for some unknowable reason Parker had chosen Stevie Nickss “Crystal.” Jake didnt even like admitting he knew such a girly song.
It didnt escape his attention that Parker was stoned out of his mind. His eyes were glassy and red, and his posture was much more relaxed than he usually managed during a performance. In the months they had lived together, Jake didnt think hed ever seen Parker so carefree, which was maybe a little disturbing. The high hadnt affected his ability any, though—each note rang as clear and precise as ever, though Jake would have sworn, looking at Parkers fingers, that they were actually moving in slow motion.
The mellow nature of the song didnt seem to put the crowd off any. Actually, they had started swaying along, seemingly lost in the music, waving lighters or cell phones or the dimly glowing ends of their cigarettes. Jake took out his own cell and joined in, letting Parkers rhythm move him. The sound of his voice set the hair on the back of Jakes neck standing straight up, and through the fog clouding his brain he had the opportunity to wonder how the hell it was he hadnt known Parker could sing like this. Jake felt like his body could just float up and away and out into the wind on the sweet otherworldliness of it all.
22 By this time the desire for Cheetos had been relegated to the back of his mind.
Then again, it could have been that he was high as a fucking kite.
By the time Parker finally finished up the song, you could have heard a pin drop in the audience. In the same completely mellow, relaxed voice he had started in, Parker said, “Thank you very much.” Then he got up, swayed over to the back of the stage, and zig-zagged off into the night.
Jake spent another few seconds idly kicking his heels against the side of the stage as the crowd cheered for Parker, but eventually he found the motivation to pick himself up, weaving his way across the mess of patch cords and down the rickety steps behind the stage. He almost ran into Parker, who was bent double at the bottom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the damp earth.
“This is going to be a thing with you, isnt it,” Jake said, leaning heavily on the stage.
Parker was too busy retching to answer verbally, but he did manage to get one finger up in a sufficiently eloquent reply. “Ill find you some water,” Jake decided. “And maybe some Cheetos.”
It took him a few minutes, partly because he was dodging girls wanting autographs, some on inappropriate body parts, but eventually he made his way to a concession stand that didnt have a lineup fifteen miles long. He picked up two bottles of water, a pretzel, a bag of Doritos (he tried not to be disappointed they didnt have Cheetos), and a half a pound of cotton candy. By the time he caught up with the rest of the band, Parker had taken a seat at the bottom of the stage steps, and Chris and Jimmy were observing from the minimum safe distance.
“Dude, what got into him?” Chris asked.
“Morning sickness,” Jake told him. Chris gave him a funny look. Seriously, if Chris hadnt caught on yet that Parker got ill before, after, or during every major performance, he didnt deserve to know. “Parker, heads up, buddy.”
Parker looked up just in time to catch the water bottle Jake lobbed at him. Jake really should have known to be prepared for this by now, and he did actually have
Jake chanced a look back at Jimmy, who just shrugged and set down his drumsticks, and figured since he had no idea what Parker was doing and no desire to play another song (or in fact do anything other than park it and listen) 22 , he might as well sit down beside Parker and enjoy this.
A nice, leisurely lead-in eventually resolved into a recognizable song, and Jake smiled a little, though it felt strange, because for some unknowable reason Parker had chosen Stevie Nickss “Crystal.” Jake didnt even like admitting he knew such a girly song.
It didnt escape his attention that Parker was stoned out of his mind. His eyes were glassy and red, and his posture was much more relaxed than he usually managed during a performance. In the months they had lived together, Jake didnt think hed ever seen Parker so carefree, which was maybe a little disturbing. The high hadnt affected his ability any, though—each note rang as clear and precise as ever, though Jake would have sworn, looking at Parkers fingers, that they were actually moving in slow motion.
The mellow nature of the song didnt seem to put the crowd off any. Actually, they had started swaying along, seemingly lost in the music, waving lighters or cell phones or the dimly glowing ends of their cigarettes. Jake took out his own cell and joined in, letting Parkers rhythm move him. The sound of his voice set the hair on the back of Jakes neck standing straight up, and through the fog clouding his brain he had the opportunity to wonder how the hell it was he hadnt known Parker could sing like this. Jake felt like his body could just float up and away and out into the wind on the sweet otherworldliness of it all.
22 By this time the desire for Cheetos had been relegated to the back of his mind.
Then again, it could have been that he was high as a fucking kite.
By the time Parker finally finished up the song, you could have heard a pin drop in the audience. In the same completely mellow, relaxed voice he had started in, Parker said, “Thank you very much.” Then he got up, swayed over to the back of the stage, and zig-zagged off into the night.
Jake spent another few seconds idly kicking his heels against the side of the stage as the crowd cheered for Parker, but eventually he found the motivation to pick himself up, weaving his way across the mess of patch cords and down the rickety steps behind the stage. He almost ran into Parker, who was bent double at the bottom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the damp earth.
“This is going to be a thing with you, isnt it,” Jake said, leaning heavily on the stage.
Parker was too busy retching to answer verbally, but he did manage to get one finger up in a sufficiently eloquent reply. “Ill find you some water,” Jake decided. “And maybe some Cheetos.”
It took him a few minutes, partly because he was dodging girls wanting autographs, some on inappropriate body parts, but eventually he made his way to a concession stand that didnt have a lineup fifteen miles long. He picked up two bottles of water, a pretzel, a bag of Doritos (he tried not to be disappointed they didnt have Cheetos), and a half a pound of cotton candy. By the time he caught up with the rest of the band, Parker had taken a seat at the bottom of the stage steps, and Chris and Jimmy were observing from the minimum safe distance.
“Dude, what got into him?” Chris asked.
“Morning sickness,” Jake told him. Chris gave him a funny look. Seriously, if Chris hadnt caught on yet that Parker got ill before, after, or during every major performance, he didnt deserve to know. “Parker, heads up, buddy.”
Parker looked up just in time to catch the water bottle Jake lobbed at him. Jake really should have known to be prepared for this by now, and he did actually have
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