Nobody, Not Even the Rain Has Such Small Hands

"Wait, can we go back to the beginning?" Vic asks. The band comes to a abrupt stop and Matt, who I was told is the producer, counts them back in again. Tony comes in on queue with the guitar intro.
I take another bite of my veggie burger and wipe a drop of ketchup off my bottom lip with my thumb. It's so different hearing the band play in the studio versus live, where I'm standing backstage among people I don't know well enough to initiate conversation with. I always seemed to be in the way, trying to find a place in the crampt spacing to stand as guitar techs walk back and forth with different instruments for Vic or Tony. Plus, at every show there were fans lingering around. At least one person always asked me who I was and how I was able to obtain a VIP pass that wasn't available to any of them - what was so special about me that allowed me to stand backstage? Their faces relaxed when they found out I was only Vic's cousin and nothing more to any of them.
I'd sit in the bus with their tour manager and wait for the guys to be done with any signings they wanted to do after the show. If we went anywhere, it was usually early morning and after Mike and Vic both showered in the small stand-up space across the hall from the bathroom. In those moments of waiting for them to clean up after a show, I got to spend some time with Jaime and Tony. More so Jaime, since Tony was always pretty shy.
"That's good," Matt says as the song ends and my thoughts are discarded.
As I take a sip of my iced coffee, the guys come out in a line from the door to my left and walk to Matt, looking over his shoulder at equipment and lines that make no sense to me. I finish up my lunch and put my trash into the paper bag sitting on the floor by my feet just as Jaime whispers something to Tony.
"Maddy?"
I look up, the straw of my drink still between my lips, and see Jaime and Tony looking at me. He comes over to where I'm sitting on the well broken in black couch.
"You know how I asked you before if you wanted to write some guitar parts together sometime?"
I nod my head, thinking back to just a few days ago at breakfast in the diner. I didn't get the chance to talk about it since breakfast in the diner a couple days ago, since they were all busy with finishing the album and tour plans. Honestly, I figured he had forgotten all about the offer.
"I was wondering if you would want to work on this one song with me tonight."
I'm silent for a few moments, contemplating. Of course I want to work on guitar parts with him. I've been to plenty of shows and Tony is one of the best guitar players I've ever heard. I'm no where near as good as he is, and that is what's so degrading. But, it would work as a good distraction. One less night wasted on sitting in my bedroom after dinner, trying to find something to do while Vic and Mike talk about touring and the new album. Occasionally, they'd ask me if I want to watch a movie with them. All that means is trying to push aside the words and names my mom used towards me in those voice-mails I finally got around to listening to - mostly for Vic's sake, so the conversation wouldn't come up again.
"I'd love to," I tell him, because I'm already in need of a night out.
Vic steps into sight from behind his significantly taller friend and I remember. "What about taking a drive around San Diego?"
I feel caught in between spending time with the two of them. I'm inwardly tired of walking on eggshells around them, careful of my words and how I appear to them so Vic won't ask if I've heard from my mom. It's bad enough that his interest in spending time with me has heightened since the phone call, making it seem like the only reason why.
Simultaneously we all turn towards Vic; expect for Tony, who seems to have noticed something interesting about his shoes.
Vic looks around at his friends and down at Matt, sitting in the chair behind them trying to look like he's not paying any attention, even though we all know he is.
He shrugs one shoulder. "We can just go some other time."
"We can just go tomorrow," I answer simply with a smile.
"You two kids have fun tonight," Jaime says, walking towards his friend, dragging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.
Tony only rolls his eyes and laughs a little.

After a lot of persistent 'I owe you guys', Vic lets me clean up the dirty plates from dinner and load them into the dish washer. Vic talks about all the places he's going to show me tomorrow as we load the dish washer. Mike's sitting at the kitchen island writing out the best way to Tony's apartment from here. He's agreed to do it only if I use his sports car, which is even more nerve wracking as I don't want to wreck it. I'm not used to driving sports cars, or cars that don't to be started a few times before they come to life.
Once we're done with the dishes, I put on a light jacket, place my wallet in one of the front pockets and zip it up. I tap down the wooden floor panels, down the hall to my bedroom to slip on my pair of moccasins and grab my guitar case. The CD's Tony gave me are on the bedside table, and I grab them before heading back down the hall to the kitchen.
Mike hands me the directions with a sly smile on his face as he drops the keys into my own palm. "Have fun." I watch as he turns and walks across the front hall to the living room, where he positions himself on the couch facing away from me.
Vic gives me a hug and quickly pulls away. "Don't have too much fun with that thing." We both laugh and I walk to the front door, leaving him behind.
Chilly air hits me as I pull the door shut behind me and hit the unlock button on Mike's set of keys. The red vehicle sitting behind Vic's car lights up and I sigh to myself. Mike trusts me too much.
I walk to it and place my guitar case in the back seat before hopping in and taking a few deep breathes before sticking the key in and turning it. The car roars to life and I'm not sure if my nerves are because I'm going to Tony's, or if it's because crashing and killing myself is a very really possibility before I even get there. I look down at the two nearly identical CD's on my lap and pop one in at random, turning the volume up as two acoustic guitars begin to play. The digital clock above the player on the dashboard tells me that I'm running early.
The car roars even louder when I push my foot down on the gas and turn to back out. I take my time but when I'm pulling out onto the street I'm still early.
I stop and pick up two vanilla chai's on my way just to blow some of the extra time. One of the few things I learned about Tony over the past few years was that tea was one of his favorite things to drink on clear, cool nights like this. Besides, I don't want to show up too early and seem overly eager. Tony's face pops into my mind then, his dark eyes and matching hair, when he told me to jut head over after dinner.
The directions Mike give me lead me straight to a small duplex on a fairly busy street ten minutes away from the house. Since I'm driving so slow, it takes about twenty minutes instead. I pull into the left driveway, as the directions instruct, and cut the engine. I drop the keys into my pocket, grab our cups and shut the car door behind me with my hip. Tony appears in the door way with a smile on his face. He comes out and walks towards me, greeting me halfway.
"I'm surprised you found your way," he says, eyeing the two drinks in my hands.
"Glad you had faith in me," I joke. "I got you something."
I hand him the cup as he shoots me a confused look. Hesitantly, he moves his lips down to the small hole in the plastic lid before tipping the container back slightly. He takes the smallest of sips, as the liquid is still steaming, and his eyes light up accompanied by a smile.
"Thanks," he says, removing his lips from the mouth of the cup. "Mike let you borrow the car?" He nods his head towards the vehicle behind me, and then looks back to me with an eyebrow raised.
I nod, laughing. "I told him it wasn't a good idea but he didn't believe me."
"Did you bring your guitar?"
"Yeah, it's in the back seat."
He walks around me and opens the back door, reaching in and pulling out my case. He leads me to the door he came out of moments ago, holding it open for me to walk through first. On the other side is his kitchen, where he places my guitar case down by a small dining room table.
There's a fresh element to his place that makes me think he's just cleaned the place up before I arrived. The air smells like some type of freshener.
He waits for me to open my case and drag out my blue electric. When he brings me into the living room, there's a space cleared where he's already got his own guitar out and leaning against the foot of the couch. As we both take a seat beside each other, he takes two identical picks out of his back pocket and hands me one.
I strum my guitar once to check if it's in tune or not. When I see that it is, I turn my attention back to Tony. Our eyes meet and he produces a soft smile.
"Do you guys have any lyrics written for this yet?"
"Vic's got it all worked out. I've already got the verses written, I just need help with the chorus and maybe a solo or two."
We both laugh to ourselves as Tony positions his guitar and then begins to play. The room is consumed with the sound of him playing his electric unplugged, creating a much softer sound than I'm used to hearing. It's calming and intriguing at the same time. I get the basic rhythm after a few moments of watching, and join in. He smiles at me as we strum in unison with each other. It's distracting and I play an obviously wrong chord.
I immediately stop playing and look down, feeling myself blush. "Sorry," I tell him.
"Nope, that's fine." He reaches over and moves my fingers into the right position. Once he's done, I strum down once and then pick up the verse again from the beginning while he watches.
By the time I've got it down, our once full cups sit abandoned, empty and cold on the coffee table before us.
I play the verse through with no mistakes and smile up at him. He mimics me, but his smile is one that reaches his brown eyes.
"See, you picked it up fast." He stands, and I look up at him confused. "I'm going to go make us a drink."
He walks to the kitchen and I hear a cork pop and listen as he fills two tall glasses. A few minutes later, he comes back into the room with a glass full of red, soda-like liquid in each glass.
"Try it," he requests, handing me my glass before sitting back down beside me.
"On the count of three," I tell him, turning towards him.
He smiles and nods before counting us in. At three, we thrown our heads back and take big sips. It's some type of alcohol I don't recognize mixed with cherry soda.
"It's good," I say in between sips.
He laughs and puts his down on the table. "Thanks. Do you have any ideas for the chorus?"
Writing the rest of the song takes much longer than I expected. We spend a lot of time finishing our drinks and making new ones. I follow him to the kitchen and watch as he makes sure there are equal parts of soda and alcohol in each glass. It's nearly one by the time he's got the tab written out on the laptop.
He shuts the machine down and I take another sip of drink number two. "Do you think Vic's going to go crazy if you stay longer?"
I smile back at him, all nerves that I had in the car on the way here are gone. In fact, I can't even remember why I was nervous about this. Spending time with Tony is the most at ease I've been since the morning of birthday. It could just be the alcohol, but I'm definitely not ready to leave.
"Vic's bedtime was hours ago," I joke. We both laugh and collapse into the back of the couch.
He takes the black remote for the TV into his hand and begins flipping through the stations for something we can watch. Suddenly, he speaks up again.
"Do you like San Diego so far?"
I inhale before answering. "I haven't seen much of it yet, but I like living with Mike and Vic."
He nods like he understands and settles for some action movie. We watch in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
"I know you being here means a lot to Vic," he tells me, dropping the tone of his voice.
I look at him, unsure of what to say. The thoughts of whether or not he was just doing this out of pity resurfaced again. I don't want to think about being a burden to him, or something that he feels obliged to pick up after. I take another sip of my drink.
A chill comes over me and I look towards the windows behind the back of the couch. It's dark, so I can't see beyond the glass. I wrap my arms around myself, but then Tony's handing me a blanket that seems to have materialized out of no where. I wrap it around me as he watches, the fabric smells just like him.
"I want to show you something," he says suddenly, getting up off the couch.
I follow as he crosses the room to a box of CD's sitting beside the TV. He manually flips it off and pops in a disc into the player on a wobbly stand nearby. A song I recognize from years ago begins to play, but I can't remember the name. He sits down on the floor with his back against the coffee table and I do the same, letting the music drift over us.
"I know this song," I tell him. "But I can't remember the name."
He smiles down at me, grabs one of the guitars and begins to play. I sing the words softly and wait for the chorus, when recognition comes over me and I suddenly feel dumb for not knowing the name sooner.
"You know it now?" he asks, simultaneously putting the guitar back from where he got it. I nod and continue to sing the words.
I lay back against the floor and stare up at the ceiling, the blanket still remaining around me. I'm beginning to feel the side effects of whatever he put in those drinks along side the soda. Moments later, he's laying down beside me.
"Thanks for having me here," I say in a quiet voice as the second verse begins. It's such a light song. "It really means a lot."
I think of what I would be doing at home. No doubt I'd be sitting in an empty house by myself watching some late night movie that would result in me falling asleep in an awkward position on the old, lumpy sofa. Moving out here might be the best decision I've ever made.
"You can come here when ever you want."
I turn to look at him but he just continues staring at the ceiling like he doesn't notice. I turn onto my side and face him just as my heavy eyelids begin to droop.