Chapter 6- Give Me Novacaine

23 9 8
                                    

Harley

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Harley

She's tougher than I gave her credit for.

My dad was cruel too, but at least my mom wanted to stay around for me. She had loved him, once. They were happy, he hadn't yet turned to drugs and alcohol, and my brother and I weren't around yet. 

Autumn had only Emery. But even I know that wasn't enough for her.

"Are we ready?" Jayden asks Jim Bean, Louie, and me

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

"Are we ready?" Jayden asks Jim Bean, Louie, and me. We're seated around a wet campfire at Louie's cabin in the woods, waiting for Faye and Autumn to arrive. 

"Is she even good? As good as Adrian was?" Jim Bean asks, obviously skeptical. He rubs the end of his blonde mustache, thinking. "Harley, I swear, if she's just another wannabe....."

"Look, I don't like it either. But, she's rumored to be the best in town, so I asked her. She's the only one willing to do it," I shoot back.

"So she's the new Adrian." Louie chimes in.

"No! Nobody could ever replace him. Guys, just give Autumn a chance. You know I would never try to replace Adrian. He's only been gone for six months."

Louie sighs, resting his elbows on the holey knees of his jeans. "Again, can she play? Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical, Harley, but you didn't exactly tell us that you were going to do this." 

"Guys-"

"Can I play?" Autumn walks up to us, Faye not far behind her. "That depends. What instrument are you talking about?"

"Drums." Jim peeps up, "Can you play the drums?" 

"I can play fifteen songs perfectly. Whatever other song you want me to play, I'll learn it while you stroke your mustache. Does that sound about right?" Jim stops rubbing the end of his mustache, eyes wide. 

Autumn sits down next to him. "Let's get started, shall we?" she smiles, slapping her knees, and I hold back a laugh. "Where is this gig?" she asks us.

"A strip club in New Orleans," I say. She blanches, and I laugh. 

"He's messing with you," Louie says. I see him check his breath and smooth his thick brown hair down, "It's at a bar a few miles from here." Sliding over to sit next to her, he sticks his hand out for her to shake, "Louie."

SongbirdWhere stories live. Discover now