Freefall Read Free

bass.”
    “Yeah right.” I’m usually cool about accepting compliments, even when I suck—only a real asshole insults someone else’s taste—but I couldn’t be this time. “That must be why everyone was saying it was the worst they’d ever seen me play.”
    Xander wasn’t fazed. “You were better at the gig you played in June, I’ll give you that. But I think your worst is a cut above most people’s best. Even when you’re falling off the stage you still put on a good show.”
    He had one part of it right: I
was
better in June. Everything was better then.
    Xander leaned against the wall like he was settling in for a long talk. “What did you think of those guys who played after you? I felt like the music was all right, but it was hard to get past the rough vocals. That’s a challenge, I think, when the front man . . .”
    As I’d expected, he kept talking. And talking. Xander seemed halfway decent for a Rich Bitch Hill kid, but I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Especially since I’d been too busy puking in the parking lot to have seen the set he was asking about, anyway.
    I zoned out and scanned for somewhere else to go.
    And that’s when I caught sight of the crazy red hair I’d woken up next to.
    11:02 P.M.
    Across the room from me, Kendall Eckman was running her fingers through her stop-sign red hair and laughing at whatever bullshit I-Am-College Pete was saying. She was all smiles in a black halter top and a denim skirt that barely covered her ass. No one would have guessed that less than twelve hours before, she’d been in her underwear, screaming and throwing things at me.
    Kendall was the last chick in this town, in this country, on this planet, I would have wanted to lose my virginity to. And yet, at some point
after
I got wasted at the gig, fell off the stage, was chewed out by my brother, and puked in the parking lot, it happened. At some point
before
I’d woken up in my bed with a pounding head, stale beer/sour puke breath, and no clue how I’d gotten there or why Kendall was with me, it happened.
    Turning back to Xander and his yammering, I considered my next move.
    “. . . play a show in Seattle,” he was saying. “I told him we’d have a better chance . . .”
    Kendall didn’t seem to have noticed me yet. I needed to keep it that way. I could sneak away. Or pretend not to see her. If she went along with it, we could ignore each other for hours.
    Not that I’d be staying for any more hours. No way.
    But then it was too late for pretending. I was looking at her and she was looking at me. Her huge, dark eyes narrowed and her pouty lips turned down.
    Busted.
    “. . . wondering,” Xander said, “do you ever play electricbass or any other styles of music besides rockabilly?”
    “Nope.” I looked around for a hiding place. “I haven’t for a long time.”
    Dining room, kitchen, bathroom, garage. Backyard!
    “Well, if you ever want to try something different, my band—”
    “I’m going out. There,” I said, pointing at the sliding glass door. “See you around.”
    I pushed past two dudes, slid the door open, tripped outside, and pulled the door shut again.
    The yard was like an ad for some yuppie resort, with all the matching chairs lined up and a couple of round tables with huge umbrellas poking out of them. I went around to the far side of the pool and fell onto a cushioned lounge chair, where I had a good view of everyone through the huge living room window.
    What the hell was Kendall doing here?
    Or, the better question: What was
I
doing? This was Kendall’s neighborhood now. These were Kendall’s fancy friends. Of course she’d be here. I hadn’t been thinking when I’d let Daniel talk me into this.
    I finished my beer and tossed the can under my chair. I wanted another but I didn’t feel like going in to get it, so I leaned back and stared at the sky instead. Aside from the people who lived here, everything was better on the Hill than in the Valley; even the