Vision

I’d closed Off Beat and sent Gabe home. Lunch wasn’t too terrible. I was glad I got to speak to Gabe outside of the work place. It made me feel a little special that he asked with caution about my speech trouble. It made me kind of glad that he didn’t mind it. Not many people did, but to be asked if I needed someone to speak for me, it made me feel kind of special.

I took off down the street, hands deep in my pockets. Practice always cleared my mind from things. Lately, my mind had been more focused on Gabe and his lovely accent. It occurred to me that Gabe brought a new light to Off Beat. He was flamboyant, yes, but he knew how to be a people person.

My feet stopped when I reached the rehearsal space. As a whole band, we rented it out and hoped that one day we could break out and maybe tour a bit. I knocked on the door after hearing the sound of guitars coming out of the building. The door flew open and I was pulled inside.

“Bilvy!” shouted Andy, dropping his drum sticks. He stood up and rushed to engulf me in a tight hug. “I heard there’s a new guy working down at the shop, man. A looker, says Sisky,” he told me. Andy, our drummer, was this very energetic guy who was fabulous artist. He had wild curls and was very thin, just like Sisky.

I could feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. My band mates were no stranger to me liking guys, but to have them openly talk about a guy who they thought was a looker turned me into a nervous wreck. “G-guys,” I stuttered.

“I think he may have found the one! Tell me, who is he?” Carden asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Mike or Carden was our guitarist and a good friend of mine. He had darker and straighter hair. He was also the quietest of all of us.

I shook my head at their enthusiasm. “His name’s Gabe, y’know the guy who used to sing for Midtown? That’s him. He’s friends with that Ryland guy,” I told him.

“And he’s fluent in Spanish!” Sisky shouted. “We all know what that does to our little Bilvy. Has he wooed you with his foreign words?”

Once again, I shook my head quickly. Yes, Gabe has that accent and he could whisper words I couldn’t understand into my ear. I just didn’t think a man like Gabe would be good for me. He was so much and so sociable. He was the exact opposite of me. That’s something I thought I couldn’t handle.

“Oh, leave the man alone,” Michael or Chizzy said, coming into the conversation. Michael was our lead guitarist and an Australian. His hair was straight and a mix between orange and a very light brown. He was always kind and, in the past, I and he had a bit of a thing for each other. I blamed his accent. “Let him think about his boyfriend in peace.”

My jaw dropped. “He’s not my boyfriend!” I shouted, my voice sounding a little higher than usual.

“Well by the sounds of that, he’s going to be,” Michael said. “Now just remember, he has to be approved by all of us.”

“He’s made it past my inspection,” Sisky told the gang.

I fell out of Mike’s grasp and walked over to my microphone. “Can we just start practice? I don’t want to talk about Gabe anymore,” I said into it, my voice echoed throughout the room and everyone fell silent. It was only when my voice was entering my microphone I knew that I wouldn’t stutter. I wouldn’t be a mess of clouded speech and hard-to-understand meanings.

We began to practice and my inner thoughts, as well as the rest of the guys’, were pouring out through my mouth and blending with the music. It was keeping Gabe off my mind for the time being. Yet, my mind would come back to the small conversation we had about me dancing.

It made me nervous that I would be invited over to his place for drinks and dancing. I didn’t want Gabe to get the wrong idea about me and when I was drunk, I was a mess. Drinking made me become clingy and touchy feely. Fearing I would scare Gabe, I really didn’t want the drinks to be around.

Also, how would Gabe react to alcohol? Would he become this whorish mess and try anything to get in my pants or would he become this giant softy? Things like this always made me question whether alcohol was good thing.

I said it was a date and I hoped it could be a little, just so I could hear those wonderful Spanish words of his. Yet, I didn’t want it to be a date because I didn’t need a significant other and with a guy like Gabe, I doubted I could satisfy him.

Gabe caused so many conflicting emotions within me. It was causing an intense aggressiveness in my singing voice and my grip on the microphone stand was turning my knuckles a pale white. I was putting these conflicting emotions into my voice and soon the music stopped and I continued. My voice was loud and pained.

I stopped when Sisky placed a hand on my shoulder and he told me to stop. My knees sank and the microphone stand came down. All of this because of one man who caused all of these conflicting inside of me. He was kind and forward and flamboyant.

I caught my breath and looked up my worried band mates. “S-sorry,” I stuttered to them.

Sisky helped me up. “Come on Bilvy,” he spoke. “Let’s take you home.”