Bea & the Broken Record

Chapter 4: The Getaway

"So, Beatrice is coming with us?" Ben asked me as he shoved a slice of pizza in his mouth. He had sauce on the corners of his mouth from his sloppy eating.

"Yeah, she said she would. And you guys can call her Bea," I told them without thinking. I realized in my walk home that I would be catching some heat for this. They'd probably embarrass me with stories, for example, of how I used to talk in my sleep and do stupid things when I was younger. There was no doubt about it. I just had to prepare myself.

The guys all looked at me in a funny way. We were sitting in the living room, or lounge, whatever you'd like to call it. I was perched on a bean bag while everyone else was spread across the room. The TV was blaring with one of Red Hot Chili Pepper's old concerts that was on some channel we hardly watched. Brody brought home a huge pizza for the third time this week and we never argued. Who didn't love pizza?

"You guys have nicknames for each other?" Grayson said in a mocked voice. I rolled my eyes.

"She told me to call her that," I told them all. Quentin grunted and I looked at him, wanting to know what he had to say. Surly it was something negative.

"What, Quentin?" I asked. I leaned back in the bean bag and stretched my legs out in front of me. I had to pull my sweatshirt off and toss it aside.

"Why does she have to come? I mean, it's not like you'll get to talk to her while we're performing," he announced and avoided looking away from the TV while chewing in his pizza. I stared at him in disbelief.

"Q," Brody said before I could get a word in, "he just wants her to. What's the big deal?" I was relieved that someone was okay with the situation. I mean, really? What was the big deal?

"Dude, what's your problem with Bea?" Grayson asked. Quentin rolled his head around to stare at the ceiling.

"I don't have a problem. I just think she's bad for you, Asher," he explained. I was having a hard time seeing the rational side to his inference. I sat up in the beam bag and rested my arms on my knees.

"You're being stupid, Quentin. She's fine. I'm sure that if she was bad for me, I would know it," I said and stood up, grabbing my sweatshirt before making my way up the steps. I ran my hand over my face in an attempt to wipe the tiredness away. I still needed to practice my parts for this weekend and not to mention make sure I hit the notes right. I was the lead singer, I had to be good.

I walked back to my bedroom and shoved the door open. Walking past my backpack where my lyric notebook was and past my guitar, I fell face first on my bed and pulled my clothes off. It may have only been six-thirty in the evening, but I was more than tired.

In less than what I thought was five minutes, I was out like a light.

*****

"Asher! Get up! We have to leave now!" Someone called from the other side of my bedroom door. I groaned and pulled my comforter over my head. I wanted nothing more than to sleep. But, no. It was Saturday afternoon. One in the afternoon, I'm getting up really late, right? Well, no. We were all up until three in the morning practicing our butts off. We had everything perfect.

Brody hit the right parts of his drums, Ben played the right strings on his bass, Quentin pressed the right keys on his keyboard, and Grayson and I played our hearts out on our electric guitars. I was ecstatic with how it turned out.

"Alright, I'm coming!" I yelled back after sitting up in bed. I could feel my hair sticking up everywhere on my head. I tossed my comforter aside and climbed out of bed.