Exit Stage Left by Nall Gail

Author:Nall, Gail [Nall, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-09-08T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

I’ve got most of my closet spread out across my room (again) in search of clothes that will make me look irresistible and band-worthy when my phone chimes.

Have need 4 cinnamon rolls. Pick you up in 30? It’s Amanda.

I type out a yes and turn my attention back to my clothes. I still have time to pick something out. If he’s dead-set on trying to get me back, then it won’t really matter what I wear. I could probably show up in my mom’s reject flared jeans from fifteen years ago and he’d still agree to anything I ask for. But I never do anything half-assed, and with that in mind, I test a bunch of different outfits until I stumble on the perfect combination.

I study my reflection and test out how I look while singing some Violent Femmes (who I’ve been listening to a lot this week). I look totally kick-ass and I’m finally getting what I want—or wanted, technically. I’m actually happy, like I’ve won some huge battle. More than happy—freaking thrilled. I launch into the next verse, holding an imaginary microphone in my hand the way Amanda and I did when we pretended to be Hannah Montana as kids.

Eric peeks through the open door. “You are seriously deranged.”

I sing even louder, adding a high kick to my little performance.

“Deranged,” he repeats as he shuts the door.

“Wait! Eric, hang on.” I follow him out to where he’s stopped in the hallway, decked out in his garlic-scented, stained work uniform.

“Make it quick,” he says. “I’ve got a late-night practice to get to.”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I promised Harrison, though, and the faster I can get a no from Eric, the faster I can get us into Trevor’s band-to-be. “You ever think about having a girl in Manic Banshee? You know, maybe to sing on a few songs?”

He blinks at me. “Are you asking to join my band?”

“Well, yeah. And Harrison, too. You know he can sing. And he’s got a background on the sax.” No need to mention that Harrison wasn’t particularly talented in that area.

He laughs. “Case, you’ve heard our music.”

That I have. It sounds like a train crash mixed with a little nails-on-chalkboard.

“What the hell would we do with a sax player?”

“He can drum. Maybe even play guitar.” Now I’m just making things up.

Eric runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “We’ve got all the musicians we need. And, no offense, kiddo, but you couldn’t keep up with our songs.”

I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t keep up with his barely coherent lyrics? “Right. Well, we’ve already got an offer with another band. But thanks.” At least, we will after tomorrow night, once I get Trevor to agree.

“Then why did you ask me?” Eric shakes his head. “Never mind. I’ve gotta get a shower.”

“Wait!” I grab his dirty sleeve, and then wish I hadn’t. I wipe some mysterious red liquid from my fingers. “Can I grab a

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