Rock My Bed by Michelle A. Valentine

Author:Michelle A. Valentine
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Young Adult, Music, Contemporary, Adult
Published: 2013-04-22T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

RIFF

Aubrey’s response that she can’t be with me cuts deep. I fire back am instant message asking her why, but she doesn’t answer. The urge to fling my phone across the bus fills every inch of me. Why didn’t I see this coming? I’m a rotten bastard that deserves this misery, and I want to kick my own ass for allowing myself to feel things for this girl—to want more with her. She’s genuine, and that’s what I want.

Big Bertha rolls down the road, taking us to the next city on our tour. I hate being trapped on here at a time like this. More than anything I want to hop on my bike and drive for a few hours to try to clear my head.

I hate that I’m so fucked up that no one can stand to be around me long term.

“Fuck you, bitch. I got you!” Trip yells at the television as he smashes buttons on the game controller.

I shake my head. “What’s with you guys and video games?”

Tyke shrugs, but never removes his eyes from the screen as he fights his brother. “I could ask you the same thing about the Oreos.”

My shoulders tense. Oreos are special to me because of my sister, but that’s not something I share with anyone. The twins know all about my family and the trauma we went through, but that’s only because they knew me when it all happened. What I wouldn’t give to block out my past. It’s too fucking painful to think about. I don’t deserve to be alive, let alone have any happiness. Oreos and the happy memories of me and Hailey together tied to them are the only positives I allow myself.

When the game ends, Tyke gets up and grabs his notepad. “I’ve been working on some new lyrics. I want you guys to tell me what you think.”

“I’m down,” Trip says.

I close up the cookies and push them aside, eager to work on some music. After I grab my Gibson from the front of the bus, I sit down on the love seat glad to have something to occupy my mind.

“Okay, the beat goes a little something like this.” Tyke slaps the table in front of him to a steady beat. “And I’m thinking the bass sounds raunchy.”

He starts making low-pitched noises with his mouth while keeping time on the table. I close my eyes and allow the melody to fill me. It’s a dirty beat and my fingers glide over the threads as the vision of the cords I need to play flood my brain.

Like every other time we write a song, I strum the first notes that come to mind. We play it through for a couple minutes and Trip sits down and takes over the drum beat and we start again, only this time I open my mouth sign the lyrics on Tyke’s paper. The parts he still needs to write I improvise with a little humming.

“Through the rain cloud—there you were…hmmmm, hmmm, hmm,” I sing.

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