Summer Nights

“Our first gig is tonight,” I heard Jack say to Braxton. “Right?”
“Yeah, it’s at the Orion Club.”
“Damn, where’s Vaughn?” Jacob asked, looking at his watch. “He’s late.”
“He’ll be here by tonight; stop worrying.” Jack saw me glance behind at the three of them, and he winked.
I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through my body - Jack was one of the creepiest guys I'd ever met - and I turned back around, just in time to avoid the business like woman that was walking right towards me.
“Whoa,” Emma said, grinning. “Awfully distracted, aren’t we?”
I shrugged. "Just excited."
We had greeted Jack fairly quickly, and now we were heading towards the beach. Finally! My excitement soared as we finally made it, and it was just as beautiful as I remembered it. Honestly, I liked it better at night, with the moon shining overhead, the only sound the calming splash of the waves. Still, this was a sight to behold.
Train’s Soul Sister had just started playing on the massive stereo system, and there wasn’t a square meter in sight that wasn’t occupied. Two near volleyball fields were in full use by a mixture of men and women. Lifeguards were besides the ocean at intervals of a hundred meters, and the water splashed with life.
I quickly placed my beach towel on the ground, and Emma and I ran screaming into the water. I couldn’t wait until my parents got here. Then it would officially be my best birthday, ever!

Out of all for members of the quad from hell, Vaughn was legitimately the nicest. He'd never treated me as a kid - always as an equal. Even when I'd been in elementary school, he'd kept the cootie jokes to a minimum, unlike Jacob, Jack, and even Braxton. So I couldn't help but stick up for him in front of his friends.
"I'm sure he's got something big going on," I interrupted Jack's angry rant about how Vaughn was an unreliable asshole.
Vaughn was late. He should have been here by now; there was only an hour left until the gig at the Orion.
"Yeah well, we're gonna be fucked if he doesn't show up soon," Jack growled.
"Take it easy, man," Jake hissed. He took out his cell and dialed Vaughn's number again. There was no response. He snapped his phone shut and shoved it into his jean's pocket. "You called his girlfriend?"
Braxton nodded. "Yeah. I told you, she didn't know where he was."
Jacob grunted in frustration and looked at the ceiling, mumbling something under his breath.
We were in our hotel room, everyone crowded around on various pieces of furniture. Emma and I had claimed the bed, while my brother was lounging on the chaise in the corner. Jack was leaning against the wall, and Jacob was pacing back and forth. Abruptly, he stopped, leaned against the wall, and slid down until he placed his head onto his knees. "Shit," I heard him mutter.
Suddenly, his ringtone came on and he lunged for his phone. He snapped it open and brought it to his ear.
"What the fuck-" he started. A mask of barely contained anger formed on Jake’s face, covering his face with shadows. There was a pause as he listened to what Vaughn had to say.
“Shit, Vaughn! You knew how important this was for us; how could you fucking be so careless?" There was another pause. "Go to hell,” he snarled at the end of the call, and he flipped his phone shut.
“What did he say?” Braxton asked, breathless.
“He went to a party that was busted for narcotics. He’s in jail.” Jake placed his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. “I need to fucking punch something.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell are we going to do?” Braxton growled.
"Can't you guys play without a pianist?" Emma chirped.
"No," Braxton snapped at her. "We'll sound like shit."
"Fucking unreliable asshole," Jack said.
"Look who's talking," Braxton hissed.
"There’s an easy solution.”
Everyone turned to Jacob.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" Jack asked, pissed.
“Calm down,” Jacob said first. And then he looked at me. I mean, really, really looked at me. His green eyes held my gaze for a moment that seemed to last forever. Then I snapped out of it.
“What?” I asked.
“You play the piano,” he said, as though stating the obvious.
“So?” Even though I said this, I knew immediately what he wanted from me. And my answer was clear. N-O. I didn’t even have enough time to practice or recite their songs. Vaughn played the same instrument, but he was also the main backup singer.
“Fuck it, he’s right, Wynter.” Braxton suddenly looked at me with enlightened eyes. “You have to. I mean, we have to have a keyboarder, otherwise we're going to sound like shit. You’ve heard all our songs before, you know everything there is to know. Please. I’ve seen you practice. You’re good enough. You just have to press a few chords over and over. You’ll barely be heard over the guitar. And your voice is perfect for the backup singer. Five songs. That’s it.”
I stared defiantly into his eyes, ready to say the N word. However, I made the mistake of glancing at Jake. His face was so hopeful, it literally pained my heart. And then I looked at my brother, and I knew I'd already changed my mind.
I shrugged. “If I mess up, it’s at your guys’ expense.”
“Yes!” Braxton ran up to me and hugged me deeply. He spun me round and laughed. I looked at Jake, and he was smiling too. I felt flutters in the pit of my stomach.
"Wait a second. Is nobody gonna ask me if I'm okay with this?" Jack muttered.
All eyes turned to him.
"What is there to discuss?" Braxton asked, annoyed.
"Don't you think that if she messes up, we'll be in even bigger shit. No offense Wynter, but I've never heard you play before," Jack argued, his Russian accent coming through as he spoke quicker.
"She won't mess up," Jacob said. Our eyes met again and I couldn't help the blush that creeped up my neck. I was scared, intimidated, but most of all...proud.

Emma helped me dress. I hadn’t bought anything that suited this occasion, so she had lent me her plain black, strapped mini-dress. It came to mid thigh and I didn’t know how I would be able to sit down without revealing my white grandma-panties (as Emma called them). I was afraid to move, for fear of my boobs spilling out of the dress. She’d swathed my lips in bright red lipstick and enveloped my eyes with black eyeliner. Now, she was placing my hair up in a sloppy bun.
“There,” she said, examining me. She led me to the bathroom, and when I looked at myself, I realized I appeared to be a…
“I look like a slut,” I said unceremoniously.
“What are you talking about?” Emma asked, exasperated. “You look amazing. Guys are going to be hitting on you like crazy.”
I continued to inspect myself, when there was a knock on the door. I stepped around Emerald and to the door. I unchained it and stepped back as I swung it open.
Jacob walked in, then spotted me. His face momentarily froze, and then he cleared his throat and muttered, “We have to go.”
Before I responded, I couldn't help the way my gaze traveled up his body, taking all of him in. He was dressed in a tight, brown California t-shirt that outlined his pecs, abs, and biceps, and long, black pants that made his legs look long, lean, and muscular. He was yummy.
Emma shoved me forward, and, before I could trip on the four-inch-high heels, I regained focus. “Hey,” I said brilliantly (note sarcasm) to Jake.
He smiled and reached for my hand. “Hey,” he responded as he entwined our fingers. Eyes wide, I couldn't help but forget Emma and follow him out of the room to his car. Then we were off to the club.

When we arrived, Emma and I were snuck past the guards. The bar was only for people aged twenty-one or older, and I was only seventeen. Luckily, simply by saying, “She’s with us,” the guys managed to sneak us in. Of course, that's when Braxton manned up and decided to own up to the big-brother role. He growled, “You be careful. Lay off the alcohol, or else! It’s enough that you’re wearing that dress. I don’t want you knocked up.”
I rolled my eyes, not intending to stay away from the bar. Just because I didn't frequent clubs like this didn't mean I hadn't drunk alcohol before at parties. "Whatever."
Braxton decided not to push me further.
I had only been to the Flukes performance once before, and that had been near the start of their band, when they were still in high school. They hadn’t been so good back then, but now, they were definitely better. I knew because I’d heard their practice sessions (even if I hadn’t wanted to…).
Unfortunately enough, I felt inferior somehow, and as I scanned the people grinding against each other in the middle of the dance floor, the people taking swigs at the bar, or the couples holding hands and sharing drinks. Was I really going to go up on stage and risk the audience booing me? Just the thought scared me to death, and I hung onto Emma’s arm for dear life.
“Let me talk to her,” Jake said, looking at me. No one said anything, so I had no choice but to follow him down the narrow hallway that led to the bathrooms. A guy needed to walk past us, and Jake took a step forward, pressing his body against mine, and I inhaled sharply. For a second I lost my breath. I swear, his chest, his heat, his fucking presence felt amazing. Just as quick, as if nothing had happened he stepped away, and I almost protested his absence.
“You’re nervous,” he started, but I could barely focus on his words. I ignored the amused glint in his eyes, knowing he was probably just messing with me. I forced myself to take a deep breath.
“Hell if I ain’t,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “I’m not going to give you ‘the first time I went on stage’ speech,” he said finally. “You’ve already had piano concertos.”
“But this is a bar-”
“It’s no different. If you mess up, no one cares. We probably won’t ever see these people again anyways.”
I shrugged. He wasn't exactly telling me something I didn't already know.
“Here, have a look at this so you’re not totally unprepared.” He handed me sheets of notes. I glanced through them again as he spoke, but he'd already given me a chance to read through them on the way here. “We play the first three songs, and then there’s a ten minute break. As soon as its over, we play those two songs," he recited. "Got it?”
I nodded feverishly.
His grin was blatant. “You’ll smoke ‘em,” he whispered.
I beamed at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

“And here we have newcomer band all the way from West Virginia. Please give a warm welcome to…The Flukes!” the announcer said. As if no one was listening, the atmosphere didn’t change at all.
“Don’t worry, this is how they always are,” Braxton muttered.
Jake gave me an encouraging grin, Emma gave me another small shove, and then we walked out onto stage. I sat behind the piano, arranging my notes. Jake, as the supposed leader of the band, had quickly marked where I was to come in, what I was supposed to sing backup. We’d practiced in the car. And now I stared at the keys, and heard Jake count down. Our first song would be the Doors’ ‘Break on Through’. Luckily I barely had any backup singing necessary for this piece, as Jake had me covered.
Jake hit the drums and made the starting beat. And then it was Jack's turn as he started the base guitar with a mean rhythm. I loved this song, and though I’d heard it played many times by the Flukes, I was amazed all over again by their skills. My brother joined in with his guitar, and later began to sing the lyrics (which again, made me realize what a cool voice he had, similar to Jim Morrison’s base). I immediately started on the piano, and three notes in my trembling hands slipped and hit the wrong chord. I felt hysterical. The back of my throat felt totally parched, and I wished I'd had a glass of water - hell a can of beer - before coming up here.
My stomach was quivering from nervousness, but as I was holding down a chord that lasted two beats, I looked up at Jake. He was relaxed; his wrists were loose, nodding his head along to the beat, his arms crossed. He looked awesome. My brother was smiling as his hands flew up and down the guitar, and Jack suddenly dropped to his knees and played louder, banging his head the entire time. I continued to play, starting to enjoy this even though it was harder and more nerve-wrecking that I would have thought.
The audience was finally beginning to pay attention to us, and before I knew it, all too soon, the first song was over. Some of the people clapped appreciatively, while others continued to sip their drinks.

The rest of the songs flew by and so did the break. After an hour, our performance was over. After much cheering, I was told by all the band members – and Emma – how great I had done. Then, unanimously, it was decided that we would hang out a bit longer. However, before I could grab Emma, she waved to me and followed Braxton to the bar. I was taken aback and shocked. What the hell? I turned to Jake, but he was already a long way away from me, side-by-side with Jack.
Dejected and, I admit, offended that everyone had forgotten about me, I made my way to the bar, all the way on the opposite end of the bar from Emerald and Braxton.
The bartender, a young guy in his early twenties, smiled brilliantly at me. “Hey, what can I get for you?”
“A Jack Daniels," I ordered, taking out my wallet from my jacket pocket.
He laughed. “How old are you, little lady?”
“I’m…I’m old enough.”
He leaned over the counter, close to me, so that he was a foot away. “That was some brilliant piano playing.” Then he winked and got my order. I quickly downed the bottle, trying to rid myself of the parched feeling that, unfortunately, had kept me company even after I'd had two glasses of water during the break. The bartender was there with another pronto, and as I was sipping on the second cold bottle, the he came back in front of me and watched me intently.
“What?” I asked, self-conscious of my exposed cleavage. I resisted the urge to look down and check how low my neckline had gotten.
One of his eyebrows arched. “My shift ends in a quarter hour,” he said, suggestively.
“Ugh! Get a life, you hobo!” I sprang from my chair and walked away, hearing his highly amused chuckles. I rolled my eyes, annoyed and frustrated with the situation. I downed the rest of the Jack Daniels and threw it in a nearby trash. My eyes scanned the bar, and from my location, I could see Jacob, all the way at the other end of the club, flirting heavily with a girl who was dressed like me, only she actually managed to look classy and sexy. My eyes lingered over Jake's relaxed stance - he was leaning against the wall, a cup of something in one hand. The girl was gently moving her hand up his arm, laughing and flashing her brilliant smile. Suddenly, Jake's eyes met mine, and I quickly turned, ducking around so that I was hidden behind the wall that annexed the bathrooms. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to act like it hadn't hurt to see him lay his charm on another girl. A girl that wasn't me.
I shook my head, pushing down those feelings. He was my brother's friend. He would never feel that way about me.
I didn’t know what to do next, as the bar was officially off limits and I was trying to avoid Jake on the north side of the bar. However, just when I was about to turn and start looking for Braxton and beg to leave, Jack turned the corner nodded at me.
"Fancy seeing you here," he said, stopping to lean on the wall opposite of me.
I nodded back, then glanced at the glass he was holding. "Hook me up? I'm hiding from the bartender. Frigging creep."
Jack flashed a grin at me, baring his sharp teeth. Again, I shivered, however, when he extended his glass, I readily accepted. A bit too greedily, I shoved the liquid down my throat, before registering how much it burned my throat. I gasped and choked, then beat my chest as I coughed heavily.
"Fucking shit," I managed. "What the hell is this?" I asked, as the burning began to settle, leaving me warm and tingling. In other words, buzzed.
Jack shrugged, raking his eyes from my feet all the way to the top of my head, before focusing on my eyes. "Wanna get out of here?"
"Actually, yes," I said, jumping on the opportunity and not even thinking twice about it. He placed an arm sloppily over my shoulder, and, for once in my life, I ignored the unwelcome contact. I sipped some more of Jack's drink instead of protesting. I sneaked a look at his face, noticing that his eyes were slightly glazed over.
When he spoke next, his breath was spicy (obviously from his extensive drinking), "Follow me." He started walking towards the far end of the hallway. I followed dutifully, and then we stopped in front of the end of the corridor, a door marked 'Exit'. I took another swig, starting to enjoy the drink.
He opened the door, and I sighed as the warm night breeze caressed my skin. A little fresh air was exactly what I needed. I stepped over the threshold and flipped my hair over my right shoulder to keep it from brushing against my face. I heard the door click shut behind me, and I leaned against the brick wall as I gazed up at the clear sky and the full moon. So pretty, I noticed.
I looked over at Jack, who was smiling lazily. He took a step towards me, and I immediately jumped at attention. Another step, and he was right in my face.
"Uh, Jack?" I muttered, about to ask him to back the fuck off.
He reached a hand out and brushed my cheek. I slapped his hand away, opening my mouth to scold him.
I didn't get a chance too. He grabbed my wrists and raised them above my head, in a brisk movement that brushed the rough brick against my skin. I yelped at the sudden attack and the feeling of the resulting sting. I opened my mouth to scream, when he managed to keep my arms pinned with one hand, covering my mouth with his other. My yell came out muffled and barely audible. I tried to bite his hand, didn't manage.
The gravity of the situation and his intentions didn't hit me until he quickly let go of my mouth and slapped me across the face, hard. I'd inhaled deeply, about to let my vocal cords rip. The air was knocked out of me, and my forehead scraped against the bricks. His lips attacked mine, biting me hard enough that there was blood. I whimpered pathetically, squirming helplessly.
How could I be so damn stupid? How the fucking hell?
I struggled to push him off of me, trying to loosen the grip on my wrists, to bite him back, or to kick him in the shins or groin. But the most I managed was to nip his lip, which only angered him more. I cried out into his mouth as his free hand landed on my breast, and then squeezed it hard. A single tear squeezed out of my eye, and that marked the start of a parade of waterworks. I fought against him even harder, but to no avail. Everything was happening too fast.
Every time I fought him, he just crushed my body harder and bit my mouth even more. I tasted the blood now. His free hand slipped inside my dress, and since I was wearing no bra, he reached bare skin. He pinched my nipple. Hard. Real hard. I gasped. And, to top things off, his knee was very insistently trying to spread my legs apart.
And right then, when I thought I was going to go crazy because of this guy, the door flew open and I could barely make out a figure outlined by the light spilling from the club.
"Wynter? What the fuck are you-" I recognized Jake's voice, strangled and hurt. But most of all angry. He stepped inside and the door shut behind him. He saw me, looking at him with pleading, tear-filled eyes, but he didn’t see Jack’s face. For a second, I could make out his betrayed and confused face; then he realized, I think, what was really happening, and he sprang forward. He tore Jack off of me (who, I understood, was so drunk he hadn’t even turned), and yelped in surprise at what he had found – his friend.
I scrambled away from them, arranging my dress so that it covered everything it could. I hated Emma right then, for making me look like this, for making me wear this dress. I hated Braxton, for insisting that we stay. I hated Jack, because of what he had been doing and what he had been about to do. And I hated Jake, even though he had rescued me, because, in front of my eyes, he dragged his fist back and punched Jack with all his might. The victim’s head flew to the side at a horrible angle, and I heard the deep crunch, and then inertia got the best of his body and he fell. He didn’t move.
I gasped and was about to run to him when Jake held out his arm, to block me. “Leave him. He got what he deserved.”
Irrational empathy filled my blood. “He’s fucking drunk! What if he chokes on his vomit or what if someone finds him or what if his jaw’s broken or-or- He's your fucking friend! Your just gonna leave him there?”
“He got what he deserved!” Jake snarled again, and he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me back to the door. A horrible thought wandered across my mind – was I leaving Jack, the lesser of two evils, and walking right into Jake’s arms? I thought about screaming, but then Jake pushed me out of the room and closed it. “I’m taking you to the hotel,” he spat. "Calm the fuck down." I got weird glances from the people who noticed me as we walked through the bar, but no one did anything. I didn’t see Braxton anywhere. Another tear slid down my cheek.
Finally, we reached Jacob's car and I got in.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drive-” I mumbled, afraid for my life.
“I didn’t drink anything. I have a fucking ulcer.”
I gulped and nodded in assent. I could barely stand to have our eyes meet, however. I was too embarrassed, too horrified by what had just happened.
The back of my throat broke on a helpless sob that racked my chest. I finally had an excuse to look away from Jake. I frantically wiped my tears away. Emma had applied so much eyeliner and mascara that my hand came back almost black. I stared out the window, not daring to glance back at Jake as he started the car and drove onto the highway.
It was completely silent, except for the motor’s quiet purring. Finally, at a stoplight, Jake turned to me slowly.
“Wynter.” Again, he said my name quietly, gently, “Wynter.”
I refused to look at him. He reached over and tried to slip his hand into mine. Reluctantly, I let him, and he entwined our fingers.
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you bad?” he whispered, regret deeply etched in his voice.
Finally, after managing to somewhat calm down, I whispered, “I’m fine. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Why are you defending him?” he hissed incredulously, and I flinched, tearing my hand from him.
“Because I can’t believe your so-called friend would ever do something like that to me!” I told him, truthfully, and now I couldn’t stop crying, sobbing, or sniveling. My throat and chest felt cracked, but finally we made it to the hotel. I paused my crying just enough so that the concierge wouldn’t call the police. When we reached my room, I didn’t bother taking off my dress or shoes or even turning on the light. I slopped into bed, covering my head with the pillow. I felt the bed sink as Jake got in on the other side. He ran his hand gently over my arm, but I flinched away from his touch. However, he was persistent, and, as if my reluctance had encouraged him, he wrapped me in his arms, pulling me to his warm chest. I snuggled into his t-shirt, hating that I was probably getting snot all over it. But he felt so good, it was the only comfort I'd been offered in the past hour.
“Wynter, it’s all right. It’s over,” Jake chanted. “I won’t let anything or anyone ever hurt you again, I promise,” he whispered.
I nodded into his chest, taking one more deep snivel. My crying had calmed, but I didn't move from his embrace.
"Oh, Wynter," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."
I held my breath as my hand slid from over his softly beating heart, up, over his smooth, long neck, until I reached his stubbly cheek. I let my hand linger there. My thumb brushed his soft lips, feeling his warm breath rush against it. He leaned into my hand, closing his eyes. I pushed my head further into the crook of his neck, before feeling my heavy eyelids start drooping.
Without having much of a choice, I let sleep claim me.