Playing by Ear (Country Roads #1) - Chapter 27

Thursday Rhonda went with us to the Blue Ridge as she had planned. My training time didn’t go well. I was distracted and unfocused to the point that Chef made me run laps around the restaurant followed by a whole lot of sit-ups and push-ups to ‘get my head out of my ass.’ Although it didn’t have anything to do with Rhonda being there specifically, since she spent the whole time sitting inside with Hanna and doing homework, Chef didn’t see it that way.

He made it clear that if he was going to spend his time working with me, then during training my entire focus needed to be on that training. I’d already learned that trying to argue back, even when he was wrong, didn’t work. For someone who’d been so giving and friendly since I’d met him, when we started training he fell into some old school discipline. I’d gotten rapped on the shins by a staff he had with the rest of the training equipment several times. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to get my attention.

The truth was, the real problem hadn’t been Rhonda herself but a gnawing worry that was still working in the back of my mind ever since Mom declared she wanted to have Rhonda over for dinner. That worry had only increased the day before. Realizing she’d planned for us to go to Aaron’s party, despite the obvious downsides, still bothered me.

We finished up and he sent me home with a warning that he’d be twice as hard if I didn’t shape up tomorrow. I was exhausted and distracted, and Rhonda seemed to notice it. Hanna, thank goodness, also seemed to notice it and actively kept Rhonda engaged in conversation on the way home.

Hanna said she’d drive me home, rather than make Rhonda have to jump the creek on the path back to the trailer, like I’d originally planned. Considering how Rhonda was dressed, trendy as always in tight jeans and boots that were made from some kind of shiny black material, I imagined she wouldn’t be thrilled about the possibility of getting mud on either.

“You live in Oakdale Estates?” Rhonda asked in horror as Hanna pulled into the entrance.

“For right now. We’re hoping to move somewhere better when the lease is up, but when we first moved here things were kind of tight,” I lied.

Hanna gave me a side-eyed look, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if the look was because of how Rhonda reacted to finding out where I lived or the fact that she knew I was lying about moving somewhere better.

“Here we are. Did you need a ride home, Rhonda?” Hanna asked, pulling up in front of my trailer.

“Mom said she’d drive Rhonda home,” I said.

“Okay. See you tomorrow then.”

We got out and I took Rhonda’s hand as Hanna pulled away.

“I know it’s not much, but Mom works hard for it,” I said, hoping she got the message I was trying to send.

Aside from my relationship with my dad, the biggest thing I disliked about my life was how poor Mom and I were. Besides it making anything we tried to do harder, it was impossible to miss the looks and side comments from people who didn’t know me when they figured it out. Despite their pretending not to care, Rhonda’s friends couldn’t hide it. In that way, I actually appreciated Camille. At least she didn’t hide her disdain.

The worst part was knowing how Rhonda felt. I knew she liked me, but it still felt like it constantly hung over our relationship, threatening to break us up.

“No, it’s great. Cozy.”

Neither of us believed that, but I figured polite was as good as I was going to get. Mom opened the door and smiled.

“Come in, come in,” she said, stepping back and holding out an arm. “Charlie, go take a shower, you stink. Rhonda, do you want to help me finish getting dinner ready.”

“Sure, Mrs. Nelson,” she said, her fake smile plastered on her face.

I hurried back and got my stuff for my shower. Mom had told me that morning to hurry home after my training. Normally I took a shower at Chef’s apartment because of how much I sweated during our training. She said that, because it was a school night, she didn’t want to keep Rhonda out too late. Seeing her greeting though, I realized she’d played me pretty good, managing some time to have a conversation without me around.

I came out, still damp, to find them setting the table, and laughing at something.

“Charlie,” Mom said. “You didn’t tell me how funny Rhonda was.”

“I’m afraid of what she’s telling you that’s so funny,” I said, pulling out the silverware and helping finish getting the table set.

Mom had really pulled out all the stops, making spaghetti with meatballs. Normally our spaghetti was just sauce with no meat to keep the cost down. Meatballs were a rare treat.

“It’s nothing like that,” Rhonda said. “I was just telling her about my last riding competition.”

“Ohh, the one with the girl whose brother freaked out her horse during her turn?”

One of the things Rhonda loved to talk about, when she let her guard down at least, was horses. When we ate lunch together without either of our friends’ groups, the conversation regularly turned to her horse or one of her occasional riding competitions. Talking about it always made her happy.

“Yep.”

“Was she okay?”

“Yeah, she landed clear. Her brother, however, has to sleep with his eyes open from now on.”

“You know, before meeting Rhonda, I’d never even heard about ‘horse girls,’ but I’m told they make up a pretty large segment of the teenage girl population.”

“They really do,” Mom said. “We didn’t have horses growing up, of course, but I’d go and read about them in the library all the time when I was a little girl. I’d always dream of one day getting a chance to have one.”

“It’s kind of like how most boys want to grow up to be sports or rock stars, right? You’re kind of like the boy equivalent, right?”

“I’m not a rock star. I’m not even sure I’d want to be one. I just love playing.”

“You could be one though,” Rhonda said, smiling. “You’re good enough.”

“He is, is he?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, he’s amazing. Have you never heard him play?”

“I’m home sometimes when he practices, but I haven’t had a chance to see him on stage yet.”

Mom’s tone went notably cooler when we got onto the topic of music. Rhonda didn’t seem to notice, but I could hear the familiar disapproval still in her voice. I opened my mouth to change the subject, but Rhonda beat me to it.

“Charlie says his dad used to play in bands, and you’d travel with him. That must have been amazing!”

Mom looked at me and, for a moment, I thought she was going to change the subject. I was surprised when she actually answered.

“When we first started, it was. I was young. We got married right out of high school and started living in that RV when we were eighteen. By the time Charlie came along though, I think I’d grown tired of it. It seems glamorous at first but … it’s a tough way to live. Always moving, never having a place to really call home. I’m not sure it’s the kind of life I’d wish on anyone. Even with Charlie’s father there, it was awfully lonely.”

“Yeah, but being up on stage most nights, hearing the crowds cheering. What a rush,” Rhonda said, missing Mom’s point entirely. All she could see was the fame and glory.

Mom seemed to pick up on it too, and decided to finally change the subject.

“So Charlie said you two were going to a Halloween party on Saturday?”

“Yeah. It goes pretty late, so we’re going to show up after Charlie plays that night at the Blue Ridge. If there’s time, we might even go to another Halloween party that’s also happening.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

I didn’t want to start an argument with them here, especially in front of Mom, but I was annoyed that she apparently still hadn’t given up the idea of going to Karen’s party. I thought she’d have figured out by now there was no way I’d ever go to a party thrown by one of Aaron’s friends.

“What are you going as?” Mom asked.

“I wanted to go as Anna and Troy from Vampire Royalty, but Charlie threw a fit.”

“I didn’t throw a fit,” I said.

“I think the words you used were ‘over my dead body.’”

“That could work,” Mom said, teasing me. “Troy’s a vampire in the movie, after all.”

“We settled on Tony McCarin’s character from Trainbound and his bounty hunter girlfriend.”

“I don’t think I saw that, but I seem to remember her outfit was kind of … minimal,” Mom said with a wicked smile. “I’m guessing that was kind of the point.”

Rhonda blushed and looked at her lap but I wasn’t fazed. Mom liked to catch people, meaning me usually, off-guard with pointed comments like that. I just shrugged. It wasn’t like Rhonda would be naked or anything, it was just kind of revealing. There wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about.

“I just hope it’s not too cold. McCarin spent most of that movie in an undershirt and blue jeans.”

“You’ll be inside, it’ll be fine,” Rhonda said. “Besides, all this exercise you’ve been doing every day, you’re starting to really fill out.”

She wasn’t wrong, although it was more that I was getting adequate calories every day thanks to Chef. Mom was still thinner than was good for her, but now that I was bringing home okay money from gigs, she was starting to eat a little better too.

We kept chatting and eating for another forty-five minutes or so. Thankfully the subjects stayed light, mostly about Rhonda’s hobbies, how she was doing in school, and things like that. Mom seemed okay with her and Rhonda seemed like she was getting comfortable, both of which made my life easier. By the time we left, Rhonda had stopped the furtive glances around and didn’t seem to be bothered by Mom’s car, which was fairly obviously in bad condition.

We drove Rhonda home, where I walked her to her door. I realized I hadn’t really met her parents, aside from her mom once in passing. It was still fairly early in our dating for that to be a concern or anything, so I didn’t let it bother me much. Considering my mom was sitting a dozen yards away in the car watching us, I settled for giving Rhonda a brief peck on the cheek and a hug.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Sure,” she said, looking past me at Mom one more time. “See you.”

We drove quietly for a few minutes until Mom finally broke the silence.

“Interesting girl,” Mom said.

“Interesting?”

“Yes. She seems very pleasant.”

“Mom, you don’t normally beat around the bush, so don’t start now. If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’m just a little concerned for you, that’s all.”

“Concerned about what? She likes me, we get along.”

“You just haven’t really dated before and I don’t want you getting too attached.”

“What does that mean?” I said, getting a little angry.

“I just mean I don’t want you being too upset when you two break up.”

“What do you mean when we break up? Why? What did she say when I was showering?”

“Nothing. I can just see that you’re really taken with her is all.”

“I am. We really get along and I like her.”

“Just … be careful. Okay?”

“We haven’t …”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I mean, I do hope you’re careful there too, although you might want to think about waiting a little longer. I don’t think kids understand how it changes …”

“Mom, you had the birds and the bee’s conversation with me already. What did you mean?”

“Rhonda has very clear aspirations and I’m worried what she might do when she decides someone else can help her meet those aspirations. I’m not saying she’s bad or doesn’t like you, but I think you should be careful how deep in you get with her.”

Part of me wanted to be offended and defend Rhonda. Mom was dancing around the point, but it was pretty clear she thought Rhonda was shallow and would dump me for someone if it could make her more popular. The problem was, I’d had that same thought more than once. She wasn’t always like that, but it still reared its ugly head. I couldn’t have missed her looks of disapproval at our trailer and her still plotting to get into Karen Brooks’ party.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’m not trying to live your life and I do think that we all have to experience hurt sometimes in our life. It’s the only way we learn. I’m still your mother though and I can’t help myself.”

“I appreciate it. Can we change the subject?”

“Sure, kiddo.”

Saturday was just as packed as I’d worried it would be. Between helping out during the lunch rush, another grueling two hours of training and conditioning with Chef; a full set with the band left me ready to just go home and crawl into bed. One look at Rhonda and I knew I couldn’t do that to her. She’d gotten a ride up to the Blue Ridge and was already in her costume, which drew more than a few looks.

“You did great,” she said, rushing up to me as soon as I announced that was my last set. “Not that I thought you wouldn’t be. I knew you could handle taking over while Willie’s out of town.”

“I’m not taking over. They’re playing a set without me, in a few minutes. It’s no different than the nights they have me take the lead, except Willie isn’t on stage. Other than that, it’s really the same thing.”

“I know, I’m just saying I could see you doing that with your own band, you know. You need to get changed. Cameron said he’d be by in the next ten minutes to pick you up. He’s already got all the equipment set up and they’re ready for you to play. Apparently, the playlist they put on is not cutting it.”

“I guess I don’t have time for a shower.”

“No, but you’ll be fine. Rock stars are supposed to be sweaty on stage.”

“Yeah, but I won’t be playing all night, and no one wants to dance with the smelly guy.”

“You smell fine. Manly,” she said, putting her arms around my neck and kissing me.

I went up to Chef’s apartment and changed clothes. I’d planned on just wearing my own jeans but Rhonda had insisted they weren’t right. She’s surprised me the afternoon before with a pair of new jeans that she said matched the character.

Part of me thought she might be embarrassed by my jeans which, since we got them second hand, were somewhat threadbare. I did reconsider her motives after trying them on. They were really tight. She’d asked my pants size earlier in the week, so I knew she hadn’t made a mistake. They did make my ass look good, which was probably her plan, so I couldn’t complain.

“Perfect,” she said when I came out, making a quick walk around me.

“They’re … snug.”

“Yes they are,” she said, smiling.

Now I knew she’d bought a smaller size on purpose. I was just glad I’d decided to not wear them earlier, to keep them from getting dirty. I couldn’t imagine staying in these things all day. Of course, who was I to complain? I regularly appreciated her pants, which were always practically painted on.

“Cameron’s out front. Let’s go.”

It was interesting that she was keeping in touch with Cameron. She hadn’t been enthused about going to the theatre party and as far as I could tell, they weren’t particularly friendly. Then Friday she’d suddenly come around and seemed to be into the idea. Not that I wasn’t happy with the change, I just found it strange.

I put my guitar in Cameron’s trunk and we all piled in. he didn’t live all that far from the Blue Ridge actually. Half the kids in school lived in subdivisions just outside of town, their parents working either down at the factory or at one of the businesses that supported it. The other half were kids whose families owned some of the farmland or pastures that surrounded Wellsville for miles in every direction.

There were some areas of crossover between the two groups, but that was mostly in athletics. Other than that, the farm kids tended to form their own social groups and focused on actives like Four-H. Cameron, being a farm kid and in theatre, was a bit of an outlier.

There was already quite the crowd at his house by the time we arrived. Cars lined the long driveway up from the main road to his house and I could hear noise coming off of it as we drove up.

“Where are your parents?” I asked.

I hadn’t met them before and I couldn’t imagine they’d be thrilled with that many teenagers going wild while they hid upstairs in their room.

“They went to my Uncle Doug’s house. I had to promise Dad I’d spend the weekend fixing the new fence on the back four and that I’d get the whole place cleaned before they came back tomorrow morning.”

“They’re gone all night? Trusting.”

“I think they’re just happy I’m doing something normal.”

The way he said that suggested there was more, but he didn’t seem to want to get into it, hopping out as soon as he’d pulled the car to a stop in front of his house. I grabbed my guitar and he led me inside and showed me where to set up. I was basically in one corner of the main room. There was an amp and a mic and that was it, very different than what I’d experienced playing for people so far.

I knew that was how it was going to be, but knowing you were going to be playing for people all on your own and setting up to actually do it were two different things. I’d actually talked to one of the guys while we were setting up at the Blue Ridge earlier in the night, and he’d given me some suggestions on how to deal with it. I’d had Rhonda download some backing tracks from a website he recommended that I could play to. While one of the theatre kids, who apparently handled their A/V, helped us get her phone connected and make sure everything else was plugged up, I went through the list she’d managed to get and worked out the order I was going to play the songs. Not all of them were songs I normally played, being more popular and popish than something that fit my sound, but she’d kept it to songs I knew how to play, so I gave it a shot.

“How is everyone doing tonight?” I said.

I’d learned from the Blue Ridge that one of the keys to making a gig enjoyable for the audience was finding a good balance between just playing and stage patter. While you didn’t want to talk when people wanted music, you didn’t want to just get up, play and sit back down again. The entire gig was a single performance, not just the music.

“When Cameron asked me to play for this I said I’d give it a shot, but I’m trying something new. We’ll see how this goes. Who knows, if it doesn’t work I might just start taking requests, but first let’s try a little Callin’Home,” I said, announcing the first song.

It was one of Rhonda’s favorites and was getting a lot of playtime on the radio, which is why she probably selected it first.

It took all of one song to realize this wasn’t for me. It wasn’t that it sounded bad, but it felt limiting. The real fun in playing was improvisation, or at least it was for me. When playing alone, it was about staying true to the intentions of the original song, but finding a way to weave in your own personality. Bringing a song down an octave or slowing the tempo to add an edge of sadness or transforming the melody into a something with a harder edge or classic feel by spreading it up or putting the emphasis in different places.

When playing with others, it was about bouncing things off them. Trading the rhythm back and forth or splitting harmonies. Not to trip up the other members of the band, but almost like a game of catch, but with music instead of a ball.

Playing with a backing track, especially one done by someone else, locked you into one thing. No rhythm changes, no changes in octave, and no personality. The audience didn’t seem to mind, dancing and having a good time, but I did.

“You know what, that wasn’t for me. How about something a bit more old school,” I said, shutting off the playlist and disconnecting it.

Since things were a little off-balance after trying to play with the backing track, I decided to fall back on something familiar, playing the classic rock my dad had always favored.

This was the right crowd for that option. Between the theatre kids and the choir kids, they were more familiar with this style of music. There was even a cheer when I hit one particular favorite from the era. I was also helped by the fact my song choices, picking ones I practiced most often. They tended to be songs that worked well as a solo performance, which was why I picked them to practice most of the time.

I went through six songs, feeling more comfortable with each one, going with increasingly up-tempo songs each time. By the third song, kids were dancing all over, bouncing around the open area that had been set up as a dance floor. Everyone was having a blast.

I took a small break after thirty minutes to get some water and give my voice a rest. “Hey, do you know any Superstar?”

I didn’t know the long-haired kid who’d come up to me, but the song choice alone pegged him as a theatre kid. Superstar had just passed its twentieth year on Broadway and was more of a rock opera than a traditional musical. It took classic rock songs and reworked the rhythms and lyrics to fit the play’s storyline, while still being familiar enough for audiences to recognize the original source material. I wasn’t huge on musicals, since they usually required orchestras and not guitar, but this one I was a fan of, probably because of the classic rock connection.

“Yeah, I know it pretty well.”

“Could you play a song?”

“Yeah, I can play something,” I said, taking another big gulp of water.

When I first started, since people had watched me set up, I felt like I needed to say something, but now everyone had grown used to me playing. They were all mingling and talking now that the music had stopped, and I didn’t want to interrupt them.

Instead, I just got up and started off on the big number from the climax of the musical. It turned out that was more disruptive than just announcing what I was going to play. Half the people at the party made their way into the main room where I was playing, forming a semi-circle around me, packing in a little tight. They all started singing along, really getting into it. Several of the kids were doing full harmonies off my vocals and were pretty good at it.

By the time the song finished, everyone started calling out for more songs. The next hour flew by, just playing requests. There were a few I had to beg off of, some modern stuff or things from musicals I didn’t know, but most of them were in my wheelhouse.

I finally had to call it off. One of the things we took into account at the Blue Ridge when figuring out sets was who had the vocals and their intensity, balancing out songs that were easier with more taxing songs to allow everyone to make it through the night.

The songs these kids were picking out tended to all be nine out of ten for intensity. There were a lot of raspy, almost yelling choruses and notes that went near the top of my range. I wanted to still be able to have some fun at the party, and if we kept going, I wasn’t sure that would be possible.

Besides, the party had been going on for a while before we got there, so it was starting to get late. I’d only promised Cameron an hour and did an hour and a half, so I thought I’d held up my end.

“Sorry guys, but that was my last one,” I said, to a bunch of jeers. “I know, I know, it’s been a ton of fun, but this is my second set of the night, and I’m pretty much shot.”

Most of them had performed before and understood. There was some good nature ribbing, but they all understood. I packed up my stuff and got it put away somewhere safe to keep any of the drunk kids from getting ideas before I went to find Rhonda, who’d disappeared once the sing-along happened.

Cameron intercepted me while I was looking for her, smelling of beer.

“Man, that was awesome. We normally end up with everyone singing, but usually it’s along with someone’s mp3 player. It was awesome to have actual music to sing with.”

“I’m glad you guys all had fun. I really enjoyed it.”

“Good, cause I’ll probably try and talk you into playing at another one of our parties. I swear, you’re making me look good.”

He stumbled, and I grabbed him under one arm. Even with my help holding him up, he was unsteady, putting his weight on me to keep from slumping over. He’d seemed sober when I first walked up, and I hadn’t realized how hard he’d been hitting the keg.

“You want a drink?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stick with water.”

“Come on, Charlie. You’re a rock star. Come drink with us.”

“I don’t drink Cameron.”

“Right, right. I knew that. Sorry,” he said and leaned his face towards mine.

It took a second for me to realize he was trying to kiss me. I reacted instantly, practically dropping him as I stepped back.

“No! Sorry, but …”

“Ohh, no,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t …”

Cameron’s stumbled away from me and into a crowd of people, jostling as he hurried to get away from me. I hadn’t realized Cameron was gay, but the last thing I wanted to do was make him feel bad. Sure, a drunken pass at someone wasn’t the best move on his part, but jumping back in revulsion was probably not the gentlest way to handle it.

He had already disappeared into the back of the house, and considering his state, he probably wouldn’t remember an apology and might not remember it happening at all. I decided to wait and see how he reacted at school on Monday. If he didn’t remember it, or wanted to pretend it never happened, I was happy to go with that.

There was a loud commotion near the front of the house. I pushed my way through in that direction, only to find myself face to face with Harry Torres, one of Aaron’s minions.

“Well, look who it is.”

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be at Karen Brooks’ party?”

“We ran out of booze and decided to come take some from you nerds.”

The odds of that being the reason they were here was pretty slim, but it wasn’t worth trying to actually find out why they’d decided to crash the theatre party.

“We’re all out.”

“Whatever,” he said.

I’d started to square up, or as best I could considering the now increasingly crowded farmhouse, when Harry surprised me. Although he looked like he was ready to fight, instead he just made a dismissive sound and turned away, heading towards the kitchen. I was caught off guard enough that I just watched him go, instead of following after him.

True, this wasn’t really my party, but Cameron was my friend, despite what happened earlier, and I couldn’t stand bullies. I couldn’t let Harry go after Cameron without backing him up if he’d been sober, let alone in his current condition.

I pushed through the crowd after him, only to find myself pulling to a stop. The kitchen was overrun with football players pillaging the beer and booze still left. That wasn’t what pulled me to a stop though. Standing in the middle of the kitchen I saw Rhonda talking to Aaron. They were just talking, but they were a lot more relaxed around each other than I was comfortable with, considering she was my girlfriend and he’d beat the shit out of me.

At least I didn’t have to worry about Cameron. Harry was already pretty far gone, and when he saw the alcohol, he broke off his chase to get another drink, letting Cameron slip through the other entrance to the kitchen.

“Aaron, don’t you guys have your own party?”

“We ran out of drinks and someone told us there was plenty here, so we thought we’d come share. They don’t seem to mind.”

“Not saying anything and wanting you here aren’t the same thing. You need to leave.”

“What, you’re going to make us? Come on, if you’re man enough. I won’t just break your foot this time. Or do you think these nerds are going to back you up?”

He was right, I was pretty outnumbered and I didn’t hold any illusions that his friends wouldn’t jump in as soon as things got started. I felt a little more comfortable fighting after a couple of months training with Chef, but I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to take on a room full of people. I also didn’t want to wreck Cameron’s house, at least not any more than the damage caused by the party.

Despite both those reasons, I took a step towards him. Normally, I was fairly level-headed and didn’t have much of a temper, but when it came to Aaron, all reason went out the window. Besides, I was still seeing the image of him talking to Rhonda in my head.

Aaron smiled, taking a matching step towards me before a shout from near the front door pulled us both up short.

“Cops!” someone yelled, causing kids to run in every which direction.

Considering we were in the middle of farmland and the cops were between us and our cars, I wasn’t sure where they expected to run to, but I guess when you’re drunk and panicky, the flight part of fight or flight kicks in.

The football players were less panicky, but they started heading out all the same. I’d heard something about the football team benching players who got arrested, which probably explained their sudden departure.

“This isn’t over,” Aaron said, brushing hard past my shoulder on his way out.

“Do you mind if we stay a bit and help Cameron get stuff cleaned up?” I asked Rhonda.

I wasn’t particularly worried about the police. I’d played a gig at the party and hadn’t been drinking, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t broken any laws. I could smell beer on Rhonda’s breath, but considering the state of some of the kids, I didn’t think that was going to be a big deal.

The cops spent the next twenty minutes shutting the party down. They were actually fairly cool about it, not arresting anyone or throwing a big fuss over underage drinking. All they did was make sure none of the drunk kids drove home, making them either get rides or call parents. They let me and Rhonda hang back and help clean up the major stuff, which was good because Cameron was passed out on the couch, too far gone to actually help.

“I wonder how Aaron even knew about this party, and that there was still alcohol left?” I asked Rhonda as we filled a garbage bag with trash.

“Uhh, I don’t know,” Rhonda said, looking away from me, refusing to make eye contact.

I had suspected before that she had called them, but now I was certain she had. She’d made so many attempts to go to the football players’ party, it wasn’t a surprise. If I hadn’t stuck to my guns about playing at this party, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t have let it drop. As it was, she was stuck here with me, which meant she had to make the party she really wanted to go to come to her instead. That, however, wasn’t my biggest concern.

“So what were you and Aaron talking about?”

I tried to make the question sound casual and uninterested, but I failed miserably. I was a terrible liar normally, and this was twice as bad.

“Nothing. He was just making noise about taking all the drinks, and I told him to get lost.”

“Really? You two looked pretty comfortable.”

“I mean, we don’t hate each other. I know he’s been mean to you before, but he’s really not that bad.”

“He broke my foot and has tried to kick the shit out of me a bunch of times.”

“The fight where he broke your foot I think you threw the first punch, and yeah, those guys can get aggressive. They have a bunch of fights among themselves and stay friends. I’m not saying we’re friends or anything, I just think some of this thing between you two is your fault, too. You wind him up as much as he messes with you.”

While she wasn’t wrong, technically, that entire speech was a non-denial. Sure I threw the first punch, but he’d been trying to beat up a little kid. I didn’t want to get in a big fight with Rhonda, so I let it drop, which she seemed too happy to accommodate.

I was worried that this wasn’t the end of it though. I really liked Rhonda and I was pretty sure this wasn’t the last time this particular argument was going to come up. At some point, Cameron’s parents came home. They didn’t seem overly surprised to find their son passed out on the couch, but did appreciate that we’d stayed around and helped clean up. Thankfully they offered to give both of us a ride home, which was good because Cameron had been our ride.

Cameron’s parents were not what I expected, or at least, not exactly what I expected. I’d picked up enough to know that he was very different from his parents, that difference was even starker than I guessed. His father was a large man. He’d probably been stout in his youth, but the additional pounds he carried now made him look like a mountain. Not really fat, just … large. His mother, on the other hand, was thin and weathered. Both looked like they spent a lot of time in the fields.

Considering we were around more or less strangers, any argument that might have been brewing with Rhonda was put on hold. Since we were closer, they dropped me off first. I watched their car pull away and felt a knot in the pit of my stomach.