Drummer Girl (9 page)

“I've seen kids wearing black rims, so your sister's probably right. But on you...well, don't hate me, but those glasses just seem...”

“Nerdy.”

Sid nodded. “You kind of look like a math geek, actually.”

“I am one.”

Sid grinned. “Where's your pocket protector?”

“In my other shirt.”

Her jaw almost dropped. “You're kidding.”

Brad smiled. “Yeah. Still want to dance?”

Sid nodded. They headed onto the floor. And stayed there until the band took a break. They conquered one awkward moment when the music slowed to a waltz by looking around and copying the positioning of a couple James's age.
It felt nice,
Sid thought,
weird but nice.

During the break, the caterers set out food at the back of the hall, but Sid and Brad decided to sit in the courtyard. She was surprised that they found so much to talk about. They both liked action and adventure movies but not the cop/buddy variety. They both despised peanut butter sandwiches, loved thunderstorms, wanted to try bobsledding, and disliked it when someone wore too much aftershave or perfume.

Their conversation continued to bounce all over the place until the band resumed playing. They were the third couple on the dance floor and stayed there the rest of the night. With each slow song, their embrace became more comfortable. Twice a guy asked to cut in but Sid refused. When the band announced last dance and started into a half decent rendition of
Unchained Melody,
Sid wrapped her arms around Brad's neck and his arms encircled her waist. Sid laid her head against his chest, closed her eyes, listened to the
thump-thump
of his heart, and finally understood the appeal of this kind of dancing. Their combined heat tingled over Sid's skin.

When the song ended they stood unmoving for a few seconds. Then Brad stepped back, his ears pink. He took Sid's hand, led her off the dance floor and into the hotel lobby where people were mingling as the dance broke up. They stood off to the side behind a circle of leather chairs and eyed each other in silence.

The pink spread from Brad's ears to his cheeks. “Will you be at the gift opening tomorrow?”

“I was hoping to skip out.”

“Oh.” His long face looked suddenly longer.

Sid felt a little lurch in her stomach. “But if you're going to be there...”

He nodded. “My folks are helping with lunch and stuff.”

They stared for another moment. Brad's glasses seemed to magnify his blue eyes, making it even harder to look away. Sid wanted to... She didn't mean to lunge. Her lips smacked against his; she knocked his glasses askew. She settled back on her heels, uncertain what to do or say.

He looked surprised. “G-girls don't usually...w-want to kiss a guy with...”

“I do.” And she did. He might wear more-nerdy-than-chic glasses, but he was nice and funny and had even improved in his dancing to the point where he had looked like he was enjoying it.

Brad hesitated for another moment then lowered his head so slowly that Sid finally arched up. Their lips and nose bumped. They both flinched then, eyes open, began to move their lips. They drew back, tried again. Brad's lips were warm against Sid's, warm and wonderful.

Sid's hands found their way to his chest. Her eyes closed and her hands drifted up and locked behind his neck. When his tongue ran along her bottom lip, Sid almost gasped and her mouth opened. Their tongues connected. Sid didn't even try to sort the sensations rippling through her. All she knew was that her insides were melting.

Someone tapped Sid on her shoulder. She started and pulled out of Brad's embrace, wondering absently if she looked as flustered as he did.

Devin said, “Here are your shoes, Cinderella. Dad's gone to get the car. Be lucky he didn't see you or he'd morph into the evil step-mother.” Devin held out one black sandal to Brad. “Were you wanting this so you can do the Prince Charming thing?”

This time Brad turned stop-sign red. “N-no thanks. I, um, better go, too.” He hurried away.

Sid grabbed her shoes from Devin. “Jerk.”

“Just doing my big brother routine.” Devin grinned.

“Yeah, well you don't have to enjoy it so much.”

“Sure do. ‘Cuz you were enjoying it way too much, little sis.” He pointed toward a multi-paned window framed by green velvet curtains. “There's Dad now.”

Sid wrinkled her nose at him and marched toward the hotel entrance, glancing around in hopes of catching sight of Brad again, but she didn't see him anywhere. She never thought that she'd look forward to something like a gift opening, but now it couldn't come soon enough.

14 |
flam with a dominant right hand

“Oh. My. God.” Heather crowded Sid into the corner of the living room as soon as she walked in. Heather whispered, “I can't believe you danced all night with that total geek.”

“Who, Brad?”

“Who, Brad?” Heather mimicked in a squeaky voice. “Of course, Brad. What were you thinking?”

“He's nice.” And he kisses great, Sid added silently. She tried not to smile.

Heather sighed. “Why am I bothering to help you with this? Why would you settle for Brad when you could catch the eye of someone popular?”

Sid poked Heather on the collarbone. “I had to deal with a few of those
popular
guys last week. I'll take nice any day. Besides, he's kind of cute.” Heather wrinkled her nose and Sid shook her head. “Look past the glasses, cousin.”

“Let me guess. You're saying he's like Clark Kent hiding his secret identity behind ugly glasses? Give me a break. I've known that geek since we moved into this house.”

“No. You've lived beside him. You've never taken the time to get to know him. He was never
popular
enough for you to bother.”

“Like you know him so well after just one night of dancing. And necking. Eww.” Heather's nose wrinkled again.

How did Heather know about that? Sid thought. Oh right, they'd been in the lobby along with everyone else. How could she get so wrapped up in a kiss that she forgot where she was?

Heather plucked Sid's sleeve. “And another thing, what's with this ugly
t
-shirt?”

“Starman is not ugly.” Sid peered downwards. She had thought it a great idea to pair her white Rush
t
-shirt with the short skirt that had gotten her into trouble in carpentry class. She had rolled up the sleeves so they were more like cap-style and had cinched in the waist with an old navy belt she had borrowed from Devin. The navy matched her skirt and flats and the buckle matched the silver wrist bangle necklace. All in all, Sid was pleased with the effect. She smiled. “I feel way more comfortable when my neckline isn't threatening to cause a wardrobe malfunction.”

“Impossible.”

“What's impossible?” Both girls jumped. Brad smiled at them and repeated the question.

Heather snapped, “Where did
you
come from?”

Brad half closed one eye. “From next door.”

Sid laughed. Heather spun and marched away, arms swinging. Sid said, “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“Did I?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Brad smiled. He had a beautiful smile that made his eyes seem to shine. Or maybe it was the reflection of his glasses. Sid tilted her head and studied him. He asked what she was looking at. She replied, “Have you ever thought about getting different glasses?”

A frown replaced the smile. “You sound like my little sister.”

“Don't get angry. It's just that you have nice blue eyes and the thick frames kind of hide them.”

“You think I have nice eyes?”

Very nice eyes, made nicer by a blue shirt that matched their colour. Instead of saying that, Sid started to make a snide comment about male vanity. Devin appeared beside them and introduced himself. He offered his hand and squeezed when Brad took it, making him wince.

“Don't be a jerk, big brother,” Sid said.

Devin attempted to look innocent. “Just introducing myself. We didn't get the chance last night. Are you two joining the throng on the deck? The gift opening is going to start soon.”

“How long will this take?” Sid asked.

“Judging by the pile of gifts, probably a couple of hours.”

Sid groaned. “We just sit there and watch them open stuff for
hours?
”

“Don't forget the oohing and aahing. We are required to gush.”

No doubt Aunt Kathy would punish anyone who didn't, even though Sid knew she'd be gushing enough for everyone. Brad and Sid exchanged pained looks. Sid inhaled sharply as an idea hit. She grabbed Devin's left wrist and twisted it to see his watch. “Two o'clock. Perfect. We could go to Rake's and jam for an hour. No one would miss us here.”

“What?” Brad said, his forehead furrowed under black curls.

Devin replied, “She wants to go to a jazz club and play music with some old dudes.”

Understanding did not smooth Brad's brow. Sid smiled. “Devin could give us a ride.”

“No,” Devin replied. “I'm doing my family duty even if you prefer to bolt.”

Sid shaded her mouth and spoke in a loud whisper. “Translation: the hot chick he was hitting on at the dance is here.” She dropped her hand. “Come on, Dev. It'll only take a few minutes to drive us.”

“I could drive,” Brad said.

Devin and Sid stared at him. She said, “You have your licence?”

Brad nodded. “I'll have to okay it with Dad, but I'm sure he'd let me use the Jeep.”

Sid beamed at Devin. “Problem solved. See you later, big brother.”

“Dad's going to be pissed.”

“Dad won't even miss us.” She gave him a warning look. “And you won't tell him.”

Minutes later Brad and Sid were pulling out of his driveway in a 10-year-old, slightly rusty Jeep. Sid gave directions to Rake's jazz club and fiddled with the radio until she ran across Metallica's “Enter Sandman.” She cranked up the volume and sat back to enjoy the ride. Every time Brad glanced at her, she gave him a wide smile.

Rake's Piano Bar wasn't open on Sundays, but Rake's friends knew the door was unlocked so they could drop in. School work had kept Sid away for two months. She tried to keep from bouncing as Brad pulled into a parking spot across from the red door with green panels and frame. The old-fashioned sign of light bulbs that spelled out the club's name was dark.

She was out the door and around the Jeep before Brad turned off the engine. He climbed out. “I don't get it. Metallica on the radio and now you're going to play
jazz?
”

“It's all about the drumming.”

“Oh. You said something about drums last night, didn't you?”

“Yeah.” She took him by the hand. “I play them.” He looked as if he were trying to decide if he should be impressed. He asked why she drummed. As she led him across the quiet street, she said, “It's all about loving the beat. When I was first learning I had to count it.”

“Sounds like math.”

Sid blinked. “I never thought of it that way. But after a while you don't have to count anymore. Then it's about feeling the beat.”

Sid pulled Brad into the darkened entry. A coat-check room yawned to the left like an empty cave. Through the archway on the right, voices were raised and laughing. Sid picked out Rake's voice. “We here to play or to laugh at Jo-Jo's jokes? Ten Pin, count us down.”

The clack of a drumstick against a wooden block silenced the voices. Drumming began like a bristling whisper.
Brush on snare,
thought Sid. She gave Brad's hand a tug and they walked into the club as the piano joined in, quietly playing in the lower keys. A saxophone eased in with a mournful wail that sounded like someone crying over a lost lover. The band was at the other end of the room, absorbed in the music. Sid didn't recognize the woman who sat on a bar stool in the middle of the stage, eyes closed, head bobbing to the music.

“Want to dance?” Brad whispered in her ear.

Sid smiled and turned to him, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck like it was where they belonged. Instead of embracing her, Brad rested his hands on her hips and created two hot spots that made Sid intensely aware of their closeness. She didn't realize the music had stopped.

“'Scuze me, folks,” Rake called from the stage. “Club's closed. We be open again on Tuesday.”

Sid slid her hand down Brad's arm and took his hand, then wove through the three rows of round tables to the dance floor where the lighting was turned up.

Ten Pin whistled at the same instant that Rake said, “Sid, honey. Is that you?”

“I told you I'd drop by soon.”

“Never seen you in a skirt.”

From his drummer's stool, Ten Pin said, “You clean up real nice, Sid.”

She grinned up at Brad. “See why I like this place? It's like having a hoard of extra grandpas.”

“Hey, now,” Rake said. “Be nice. We aren't so old we can't admire a pretty girl. Introduce us to your beau.”

Sid hesitated at that. She noticed Brad's flush. “Brad isn't my boyfriend, Rake. We met last night at my cousin's wedding.”

“Uh-huh,” Rake said, teeth gleaming in his dark face. “Nice to meet you, Brad. I'm Rake. That's Ten Pin on drums, Jo-Jo on sax and this here is Jo-Jo's new gal, Sonja. You play? We got a few more instruments over there.”

“No,” Brad said. “I'm just here to listen if that's all right.”

“Sure enough. Or you can dance.” Rake grinned again.

Ten Pin started drumming the same beat and the other band members picked up in the middle of the song. Sonja's voice started to weave through the music. No lyrics, just a string of words and sounds that seemed to fill out the sound, make it richer.

Brad shrugged, took Sid's hand and started to dance like someone their parents' age, the way they had during their first slow dance the night before. Sid understood. It was awkward knowing that four sets of eyes were watching. The song faded to an even slower rhythm, one that begged to be swayed to, and Sid had the feeling that Rake was playing matchmaker.

“What's with the singing?” Brad asked. “Lots of sounds and, what are they called, scales?”

“This is improv. It's sort of like playing in a musical sandbox. No set music, just play as it moves you, see what kind of song comes out of it.”

Brad tucked his arm in and cradled Sid's hand against his chest. “I could get used to this.”

“It isn't always this slow. I think Rake is trying to make it romantic or something.”

“It's kind of cool, having a band play just for you.”

“Cool but awkward. Hard to get into the music with three grandpas watching you.”

“We could shake them up with a kiss.”

“I don't think it would shake Rake. I think he'd cheer.” Sid eyed his smiling mouth. She was tempted. Very tempted. She started to lift her face.

The music stopped. Rake said, “You wanna play, Sid? Ten Pin's startin' to drag.”

Sid smiled at his timing. Maybe a kiss
would
have shaken him up. “How can you tell if he's dragging when the music is so slow it's almost going backwards?”

“Don't you get sassy with me. Set your young man down and get up here. I wanna hear if you've improved any.”

Sid snorted. Brad let her go and walked toward the nearest table. It was piled with bottled colas and water. Rake said, “Help yourself, son. Dancing can be mighty thirsty work.”

In reply, Brad reached for a cola. Sid jogged up the two steps to the stage and snatched Rake's fedora from the piano bench. Ignoring Rake's mild protest, she plopped the hat on her head and took the brushes from Ten Pin's outstretched hand, then exchanged them for sticks and pointed them at Rake. “Let's crank it up.”

Rake's teeth flashed. “Set the pulse, little drummer girl.”

As Sid repositioned the stool a bit and sat down, straddling the snare drum, she realized that a short skirt wasn't the best clothing for drumming. Too late now. The bass drum hid her legs anyway. She tapped the wooden block to count down, choosing a moderate beat and tapping her toes on the floor to keep away from the kick drum which was often too overpowering for jazz. Rake started doodling on the piano, Jo-Jo and Sonja only two beats behind.

When they'd all grown comfortable with the low-key beat, Sid suddenly drummed a fill of sixteenth-note triplets and moved her foot to the kick pedal. The bass beat vibrated through her as she picked up the tempo. Rake didn't falter, matching the change. Jo-Jo followed Rake's lead and Sonja began singing an improv version of “When the Saints Come Marching In.”

“Oh when. Oh when the saints. Honey, I said when the. Oh the saints come marching. Marching in. Oh-yeah.”
Off she went on a bebop string that had Rake grinning and bouncing on his piano bench like an old video he'd once shown Sid of the blind musician, Ray Charles.

Sid laughed. Her bare legs stuck to the edge of the throne's leather padding. She shook her head to clear some sweat from her eyes. The beat thrummed through her and the other instruments seemed to fade. She was alone with the drums.

She lost concentration for a second and flipped the beat, so she recovered with a fill of triplets and rippled the sticks over the ride cymbal, then dropped them to the floor tom. Drum roll, clash! Drum roll, clash! She sensed the band had stopped, but the new beat held her in its thrall. The drum solo she'd been working on flowed down her arms by itself. A few minutes of hard drumming and she let loose a double flam tap on the floor tom, then ended with a single hit on the crash cymbal.