The Will To Burn

"This place is amazing!" Courtney coos softly when she stepps into the fifty's inspired diner.

The booths are constructed of the signature cherry red sparkling vinyl, and even the waitresses wear the vintage attire. Old guitars and worn down signs adorn the walls, and a legitimate 1957 jukebox is playing Elvis from the back corner.

I grin and nod. "I love it here."

A red-headed friendly waitress approaches us with menus and an enormous smile and leads us to a quiet booth in the back, adjacent to the juke.

"John, I'll get you your regular, large vanilla malted milkshake. And what can I get for you, darlin?"

Courtney looks at me hoping for advice.

"She'll get the same thing," I speak for her.

The waitress smiles. "I'll be right back with those, sweetpeas!"

Courtney giggles. "The regular? And they know you by name?"

I blush slightly. "I come here a lot."

The waitress brings back two silver goblet-like cups filled with the frothy treat that I had grown up to love.

"Thanks, Dais!" I smile as she walks away.

I feel my phone vibrate. Damnit, I thought.

"Hold on, I gotta take this call. It's my band." She nods and I walk out of the diner and sit down on the curb in the parking lot.

"Sup?" I ask, as though I don't know what he's talking about.

"Dude, where are you?" Kennedy hisses through the receiver.

"I'm at the diner having lunch with a friend. Why?" I say nonchalantly.

"John, are you fucking kidding me? Band practice started an hour ago. It better not be that one stoner chick whose ass you saved last night."

Something about the 'stoner chick' struck a nerve. I feel the need to defend her, for some reason. Almost in a friendship kind of way.

"Kenny, she's not a stoner and I'd appreciate it if you had the decency to leave that out of this conversation. I can't get to practice today. Sorry." I sigh and hang up.

That probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. I can't just leave Courtney, though. I slip my phone back into my pocket and make my way back to table.

"You're in a band?" she asks while taking a sip from her malt.

"Yeah, they're pissed at me 'cause I'm supposed to be at practice right now. They can wait."

Her eyes widen. "John! You can't just skip practice! Get the hell out of here and go. I can find a ride home."

I laugh at her concern. "Chill! It's not a big deal. We don't leave for tour until next month, anyway."

"You're going on tour? You can't just skip practice before touring..."

"It's not our first tour, it's no big deal."

She throws her hands up and laughs. "You've toured before? Dang, how big is your band?"

I shrug. "We've got a solid fanbase, but we're nothing big."

"How have I not heard of you before? You're big, and local. What're you guys called?"

"The Maine."

Her eyes widen and she grins huge. "No way."

I laugh and nod. "Yes, way!" I mock her enthusiasm.

She reaches over the table and hits my arm. "Ow!"

"I love you guys! I listen to you all the time. Oh my gosh, this is too wild."

"Do you really? That's awesome. I'm having lunch with a fan... I never thought I'd say that." I laugh softly to myself at the irony.

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I pull up to Kennedy's house and put my car in park. Before I even reach the door, Kennedy greets me with cold eyes.

"Where the hell were you, John? What's more important to you than your band?"

"Chill, dude. I was having lunch with a fan." I shrug and brush past Kennedy to see the rest of the guys.

I guess I should probably practice a little.