Dedication Takes a Lifetime

“Stop. Fucking. Fidgeting.” I commanded through gritted teeth as Kal jiggled her leg and tugged at her hair and Deveraux bounced up and down in his seat. We’d been in this exact same situation before, many months before, and it didn’t get any less annoying the second time around.

Ten minutes after receiving the last note, a woman with long dark hair had knocked on our door with a set of keys and a kind smile. “I’m K; Jack’s still busy so he sent me to pick you up.” I felt bad that Jack was making everyone waste their day by driving around a nameless band from Bumfuck, Nowhere, but I’d followed her out to the big black SUV regardless, buckling myself into the backseat as she merged onto the highway back toward Baltimore.

For forty-five minutes, Kal and Deveraux bounced and jerked around like they were coming down off of hard drugs and dying for a fix. Jack Barakat, ladies and gentlemen; the newer, hipper heroine.

“Would you leave them alone?” Jocelyn snapped at me from the front seat, “They’re just nervous; everyone gets nervous. Damn.” I stared at the back of her head quizzically; she’d been hostile with me practically since we landed, and I had no idea why. But I knew she was right; I had no business snapping at my band members, especially when I was just as nervous as they were. The fact that I had hardly any nail polish left on was proof enough of that.

Sensing this, Tomas took my hand in his and squeezed, smiling at me reassuringly. One look in those honey-colored eyes--so much like our dad’s--I couldn’t help but know that there was nothing to worry about. Because even though he was younger than me, and even though he wasn’t related by blood, I knew that Tomas would never let anything bad happen to me.

“All right,” K said just a few minutes later, gliding smoothly into a parking space, “We’re here.” We all stepped out of the large vehicle, stretching and smoothing our clothes, Kal and I checking our make-up in compact mirrors.

K got out and circled around the car, and Kal asked sweetly, “You coming with us, hon?”

“Yep,” she smiled a brilliant smile that seemed to radiate, “I’m going to keep you company while you’re waiting for Jack. We’re right in here,” she gestured to one of the storefronts, and my jaw hit the ground.

It was a beautiful brick place with golden pillars that held up a black iron balcony, and dozens of flowers bloomed above. The wall modeled three tall, French doors made of beautifully designed oak doors and clear windows that reflected the setting sun. There were black wire tables and chairs stretched across the sidewalk and a beautiful, foreign music playing lightly all around us.

“What is this place?” I wondered aloud as we walked toward the building.

“Kali’s Mezze,” K told me, opening the door, “I hope you like Mediterranean food.” I nodded, entering the establishment that was just as beautiful on the inside, only to be immediately yanked forward and thrown into the air, the air being crushed out of my lungs.

“SURPRISE!” Several voices yelled these words, but the black dots that were forming in front of my eyes from lack of oxygen stopped me from seeing who they were. I just knew that they all sounded cheerful, except for one, that sounded more horrified than anything.

I coughed, struggling for air, “Can’t. Breathe. Stop. Please.” Whoever was holding me dropped me unceremoniously, and I had to wrap my arms around the person’s neck to keep my balance. When I could finally see, I saw that I was draped over Jack Barakat, and I promptly smacked him in the chest as hard as I could.

“Are you trying to kill me, Jack-Attack?!” I hit him a second time.

“Yes,” he nodded seriously, and then dodged past my third blow to scoop Kal up in a similar hug, spinning her around and pressing a hard kiss to her cheek, making her blush.

Without Jack to block my view, I could now see who the other voices belonged to. And I almost threw up again.

Rian Dawson was leaning against the counter of the empty restaurant, arms around K (who I then realized must be Kara Diakoulas), Zack Merrick, Matt Flyzik, Cassadee Pope, Alex Lipshaw, Derek Sanders, Martin Johnson, Bryan Donahue, Paul DiGiovanni, and a handful of other people I recognized from bands but could not remember the names of at the moment. Because they were not my concern.

No, my concern was the man no leaning against the furthest wall, breaking his back to avoid eye-contact.

My concern was Alexander William Gaskarth.

But I didn’t really have time to focus on that either.

“GIRLS!” An arm went around my neck, pulling me backward so that a second arm could pull in Kal and Jocelyn. I craned my neck around to see that the one and only Cassadee Pope had encompassed us all in the most massive bear hug her small body could manage, and I couldn’t help but hug her back. After all, I idolized the Hey Monday front woman. “Oh my god,” she breathed, letting us go, “You have no idea how insane a person can go being the only girl in any of the bands. But you guys have three girls, and now you’re here, and I’m so happy! Can we be friends?” She flipped out her cell phone, “What are your numbers? Do you like pie?”

Lipshaw wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry; she’s not usually like this. I think Jersey pumped her full of sugar cookies and Red Bull this morning as a joke.”

The woman seemed to growl at him, “Let me go, Pimpshaw.” She stomped her heel down on his foot and trotted back over to us, cell phone still in hand.

Kal perked up, giggling and taking out her own phone and reciting her number. Jocelyn and I did the same, and Cassadee took Deveraux’s number as well. Then she led us over to one of the tables (apparently Jack had rented the entire restaurant out just for us) and began chatting with us about our music and our lives back in Wisconsin. Across the room, I could see Jack and Alex talking; they seemed to be arguing. Alex kept waving his hands around and shooting us pointed glances. I knew what he was saying. Why are they here? How could you bring such an untalented band to our show? Have you ever even heard her sing? Because she sucks, Jack.

I knew what I had against Alex, but what did Alex have against me? Why did he hate me so much?

“Excuse me,” I said to the group that had formed around our band, standing and heading for the bathroom. On the way, I was so lost in thought that I didn’t move out of the way in time to avoid slamming into another body. When I looked up, rubbing my shoulder, I realized it was none other than Alex Gaskarth. He’d been storming away from Jack, and he looked pissed.

“What’s your problem?” He snapped at me.

I wasn’t sure what my first words to him would be, or how I would say them, but I’m sure I would have tried to be kind and unjudging. That went out the window, however, when his tone hit my ears.
I snapped back.

“My problem,” I growled, eyes narrowing, “Is that you don’t seem to know how to walk. What’s your problem?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed and I knew he was clenching his teeth. “What are you even doing here, Annette?” He demanded, and I was shocked for a moment that he could even remember my face, let alone my name. “You think you can hold your own onstage with us? Hm?” His voice had raised in volume and I could feel all the eyes in the room on us.

“What,” I shot back, “You don’t think we can?”

“Them?” He pointed over my shoulder to what I assume was the rest of my band, “Sure, no problem. But you? Miss Grey Valley nobody with a voice that holds about as much merit as a drunken karaoke queen? Hell no.” I heard a couple gasps and a few chairs moving backward as people stood.

I was about to scream at him--maybe even hit him--when a voice in my head told me he wasn’t worth it. I told myself again that I wasn’t doing this for him, took a few deep breaths, and smiled. “You know what, Gaskarth?” I took a step toward him, “Think what you want, because I know that we’re good. All of us. And I cannot wait to stand side stage at this concert and tell you ‘I told you so’ when we get done.” I pushed past him, continuing to the bathroom, hearing the rest of the group start in on him as I walked away.

They were furious.

I was empowered.

-- -- --

Countless plates of Mediterranean food and dances to Pavlos Daskalakis and Perikles Halkias music later, we were all pretty much friends. With the exception of Alex, of course, who’d left soon after our altercation. But no one had thought about that for hours.

“So are you excited to play tomorrow?” Alex Lipshaw and I were tucked away in a corner of the restaurant, trying to avoid the drunken stupor everyone else seemed to be in, since we’d both decided to forgo drinks for the night.

I sipped my iced tea and took a bite of the m’hanncha we were sharing, savoring the honey-almond taste. “Mm,” I tilted my head in thought, “About eighty percent excited, and forty-gajillion percent terrified.” I laughed, holding up a forkful of the pastry for him to take a bite of. “But I’m definitely going to do it. I chose this life, and there is no going back, right?”

“Only forward,” he agreed with a huge smile.

I laughed again, but this one was more forced, “Only forward,” I repeated.

His brow furrowed and he scooted closer, taking my hand in his. “Hey,” he said quietly, gently, “It really will be okay. We were freaked out beyond all reason before our first major concert, but we pushed through it. You will too. So… Hey,” his free hand touched my chin, tilting my head up so I was looking him in his serious, pale green eyes. “So stop worrying about it.”

All I could do was nod. Partly because my nerves were still getting the best of me, and partly because that serious-yet-sweet look in his eyes was rendering me a little bit speechless. If nothing else, I knew right then and there that Lipshaw would be a long-lasting friend in my life.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a drunk Jack and tipsy Cassadee skipped over to us. “Hey,” Cass said strictly, plopping down on my lap and glaring at Lipshaw, “You’d better not be stealing my best friend.”

“Fuck that,” Jack practically shouted, pulling her off of me and taking her place on my lap, “She’s my best friend; I’ve known her longer!”

“No, Alex Gaskarth is your best friend! Annette is mine!”

“Omm,” Jack’s eyes widened like a five year old on a playground, “She said a bad word!”

“What bad word?”

“Alex Gaskarth,” the guitarist snickered, burying his face against my shoulder. “That’s a baaaad word. My best friend did not appreciate that.”

“Know what, drunk asses?” Kal demanded, pushing past Cass and shoving Jack to the floor, grabbing my hand and hoisting me up, “She’s my best friend, right babe?” I nodded, hugging her tightly, feigning fear from the other two. She smiled at me and rolled her eyes, “And we need to be getting home so we can go to bed; we don’t want to be the least bit tired for our performance tomorrow.” She wrapped her arm around my waist and stared at them all, as if daring them to object.

Jack nodded sloppily, “You’re right.” He stood up from his place on the floor, and threw his arms around Kal’s neck, head landing on her shoulder. “Take me home,” he whispered to her, but I was close enough that I could still hear. “Will you tuck me in?” I blushed enough for all three of us and excused myself so I could go find Kara and ask her to take us home. It took a while to get her disentangled from Rian, but she finally agreed and I started corralling our group toward the SUV.

With Kal, Jocelyn, Deveraux, Tomas, Kara, and I, the ride to Baltimore had been crowded. But with Jack and Rian thrown into the mix, it was a tight and barely manageable squeeze. I was forcing Jack into place and preparing to climb in when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around with a squeak, my hand fluttering up to my chest.

“Uh, sorry,” Lipshaw blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just, um, wanted to know if I could get your number? I already got the rest of your band’s from Cass, but I thought I’d ask you personally. Is that…okay?”

I smiled at his nervousness and took his cell phone from him, entering my number and saving it to his phone memory before handing it back. “Call or text anytime; I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a small wave, I squeezed in next to Tomas and shut the door.

And now we were on our way back to Jack’s house. Jack and Alex’s house.

Great.