Here's My Heart Read online

  “Why?” he asks. “You're a beautiful, single woman and I'm a beautiful, single man—just because you're my best friend doesn't mean we shouldn't.”

  “I thought it was a cardinal rule that best friends never date each other,” I reply.

  “No, best friends should never date each other’s girlfriends,” he corrects. “And since when do we follow the rules anyway?”

  “Good point,” I sigh as I feel my face heat up. “Okay. We're going on a date.”

  “Don't worry,” he says, giving me a playful shove. “We'll have fun, I promise.”

  “I trust you,” I reply as he gets up and walks outside.

  So, a date with Adam tonight. Well, that's something new. Who knows, maybe something awesome will come of it. It's not like I haven't thought about it before. He's smart, handsome, funny, and I know him andhe knows me.

  Excitement settles in the pit of my stomach. It's strange, I'm almost nervous even though I shouldn't be. Besides, it's just Adam. What's the worst that could happen?

  Chapter Two

  “What am I going to wear?” I ask, staring myself down in the full body mirror. “Dress to impress. What does that even mean?”

  Men say that we are complicated, but really, assholes? We, the superior female, just do not understand the words you're saying. It sounds like grunts and just belligerent sounds coming from your mouth.

  “Tonight plus dress to impress equals sometime between nine and midnight,” I attempt to translate, “and wear something classy, but stunning. Shit, do I have time for a nap?”

  Tonight could also be like seven to him, so maybe I should start getting ready? I'll just text him. I grab my phone and sit on the bed with a sigh flipping through my phone to his messages. When I find him, I quickly type out a message:

  Hey, what time tonight?

  A quick ding and he's responded.

  How's eight sound?

  Perfect. See you then, I reply and toss the phone down.

  I think I'm just going to lay down for a bit. Staring at the ceiling, I connect the lines in the patterns of dried paint, picking out the faces. I find myself teetering on the edge of excitement and anxiety. With a huff, I get up and begin getting ready.

  An hour later, I take in my appearance. It's edgy, but casual. Black leather pants that fit in all the right places. I throw on a baggy Metallica tank top over my tight-fitting undershirt, donning my grandfather's dog tags like I have since his death.

  He was my inspiration. Always teaching me something new and taking an interest in the things that I love. He had a hard life, having served in the military for most of it. He's seen things I could never comprehend. When he learned that I had an aptitude for music, he was thrilled.

  He liked to tell me that he was the inspiration for: “Boogie Woogie, Bugle Boy” when I was a little kid. He'd toot on his old trumpet and dance around just to make me laugh. He influenced my sound and my respect for all genres. Even to the end, when he'd forgotten my name, I could still reach him through music.

  Those little moments when it felt like I had my grandfather back—I cherish so much. He talked to me like we were seeing each other after a long time away. He didn't know that I'd seen him just yesterday. Dementia set in early and it was hard. I don't like to think about it or talk about it much. He died when I was seventeen. I miss him.

  I know he's with me though. Every time I take the stage, I feel like there's one extra person watching from the sidelines. You'll never see me without these dog tags around my neck.

  My thoughts shift and I begin to wonder what we're getting into tonight. The fact that it's a date is what makes me nervous. I was nervous Prom night too. I didn't know if he expected anything to happen, you know, sexually. What does it matter now?

  My virginity's been gone since I was eighteen with one of our sweet roadies, Darren, and this is the last I'll ever speak of it. I've had the occasional one night stand. I'm not exactly shy when it comes to sex. It's relationships that give me the creeps, but even so, I want one.

  Even if it's just to know what's it like and how it feels. I'm not saying I'll never fall in love or settle down, it just doesn't feel like I'm going to for a while. Whatever happens, happens. What the world has to offer, I want to taste it all, feel everything, see beyond the spectrum and hear the siren's song. I want to know it like a lover and bend it to my will.

  It's hot in here. I walk over to the window and open it for some fresh air. When I glance at the clock, it's just seven-thirty. I grab my jacket, then reach over and throw on my girly combat boots to finish the ensemble.

  I give myself a quick lookover as I pull my arms through the sleeves of my jacket. My dark brown hair is a bit curled and wavy tonight, falling in loose ringlets around my face. I think I can pass for properly clothed if we go anywhere ritzy, but I know that's not Adam's style.

  Shit. This is a date. Damn it. Didn't they say that you should always be yourself at these things? Right, so date-Adam should be no different than best friend-Adam. Rationally. I'm thinking about this way too much.

  Ding! Ding!

  It's a quarter till eight by now. He's early, I should have known he would be. He treats dates like job interviews. Show you're eager, but not too eager. Let them think you have better shit you could be doing, but you're gracing them with your time for a job that you're obviously enthusiastic about because you showed up fifteen minutes early.

  I run to the door, checking my hair one more time before I let him in. He greets me with a bright smile and bouquet of roses. He always takes me by surprise.

  “Wow!” I'm shocked but I smile and smell the offered flowers.

  “Thought you could use the full experience,” he replies, giving me a suggestive wink.

  Okay, so, maybe sex.

  “That's so sweet,” I reply, blushing. “I'll put these in some water and we can go?”

  “Sure,” he answers, giving me a sweet smile.

  I turn and walk into the kitchen while he lingers near the door. He looks gorgeous wearing a pinstriped vest and long-sleeved red shirt rolled just past his elbows. I'll admit—he's a looker. I find a large empty Mason jar and fill it about half way with water. I set it on the small island in front of the sink and adjust the flowers accordingly.

  “Looks good,” Adam says, leaning against the wall. “Funny, isn't it?”

  “What?” I ask anxiously.

  “How I know you wear those clothes just going to the grocery store,” he grins, “but I also know you put in the effort to look nice.”

  “Don't ruin the mood.” I then take his offered arm.

  I grab my bag from the back of the couch and he locks the door behind us. He rushes me outside, where he runs to get to the passenger door of his black Toyota Tacoma before me. He opens my door with a mischievous grin.

  He's being oddly charming, but he's like that—when he wants to be. When he wants someone to like him, but I already do and he knows that. Ugh, come on, Nova. Stop over thinking everything. Just enjoy yourself for once.

  I jump in the passenger seat and he closes the door gently. He walks around the front of the truck and climbs in the driver's seat, pulling his seatbelt on.

  “Buckle up,” he gives me a nod. “Precious cargo is en route.”

  “Where exactly are we taking this precious cargo?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  “I'm taking you…” he says, pulling into the street, “to Gallery Cabaret.”

  “Have we played there before?”

  “Yeah, as soon as we all turned twenty-one,” he replies. “Haven't been back since. They're having a stand-up comedy night and open mic later.”

  “Sounds good to me.” It does but I fidget with my fingers anyway.

  “Don't worry,” he reassures, shifting gears. “I won't have you confined to a bar all night. You spend too much time in one as it is.”

  “I trust you to show me a good time,” I reply, looking at the people milling about as we hit the freeway.

  “I thin
k it's good to get out and try different things.” He gives me a side look.

  “Such as?” I can't help but wonder what he's got in mind.

  “You'll see,” he responds simply, giving me a mischievous smirk.

  We sit in comfortable silence, listening to the radio as we head toward the inner city. We live on the outskirts of town, but close enough to get a taste of city living. It's often busy and noisy, but I love it. I can't imagine living anywhere else.

  He pulls onto North Oakley Avenue and soon enough we're in front of the venue. It's seemingly dark and low profile. I can smell the beer and whiskey as soon as I get out of the car. The sounds of laughter reach my ears when he offers his arm and leads me inside.

  The stage is the first thing I see when we walk in and a man is standing up front just talking. He must be a comedian. People laugh as he speaks and Adam makes his way to the bar.

  “Can I get two shots and two drafts, please?” Adam asks, giving our order to the bartender. “Want to sit there at the side?”

  He points to a dark corner of the room and I nod.

  “Go ahead and grab the seat,” he comments while he waits for the bartender. “I'll be there in a sec.”

  I make my way through the crowd. It's busy for a Wednesday night, but it's an easy pace. People are relaxed and listening to the comedian do his routine. I get to my seat, thankfully without tripping or knocking anyone's drink over, and take off my jacket.

  It's always warm near the stage. The bright lights and equipment makes it so much warmer. Add that with general body heat and it's a sauna, especially when you're performing and moving around.

  When Adam shows up he's carrying a small tray with our drinks and some chicken tenders. He gently places the tray in the center of the table and passes me my drinks.

  “Alright!” he says triumphantly. “Did he say anything funny yet?”

  “Not yet,” I wait for him to get settled in beside me. “What all is happening tonight?”

  I'm very familiar with the way Gallery Cabaret works. I work at Reggie’s and it's similar to this, but more local bands instead of comedians and DJ's like most of the nightclub scene. It's great too, because Nova Rose gets to perform there—a lot. Maybe I should see about getting us a show here. I tell Adam my idea.

  “Already a step ahead of you,” Adam comments. “This is more of an acoustic kind of thing. I think we should explore that path. It would be interesting to do a live feed or our own Nova Rose at the Gallery Cabaret Unplugged.”

  “Ooooh,” I'm impressed. “Great idea, but who's got a few video cameras floating around?”

  “Ah,” he replies bummed, but then gets excited again. “We could offer the project up at the university. Get the equipment for free and then pay the peeps for their time. If anything, they'll be pleased for the experience. I mean, how often do you get to put: helped produce an acoustic DVD for a professional rock band on your college transcripts?”

  “That's actually a good plan. What's the rates?”

  “I'll do some research,” he replies, taking a bite out of a chicken tender. “If it's down to numbers, we'll just get a loan from my folks.”

  I give him a look. “How will that go if no one buys the DVD?”

  He holds his hands up and smirks. “Look, I market this group. This is how I make a living. If I am investing in it, do you really think I'm going to make a shit product that won't sell?”

  “Well, no,” I retort, “but some things you can't foretell.”

  “Ah, but this I can,” he says. “Have you read our fanpage at all?”

  “Not in a couple of weeks,” I admit and he quirks his eyebrow. “I'm sorry, it's creepy sometimes.”

  “No excuses,” he says pointedly. “With success comes what?”

  “Perverts,” I mutter, but he answers his own question.

  “Fans. Fans of all kinds will flock to us and not just us—you. Yes, many young men will notice that you are a vivacious woman with large—”

  “Adam!” I start to scold him but he stops me before I can begin.

  “Positive attributes. The lesser of my species will likely see you as a piece of meat, however, our fan base will love and buy the DVD for what it is and they've been asking for it. Take a look sometime…”

  “Adam!” I hiss. “I'm cool with the idea. If you think it will benefit us and not send us in the hole with your parents I'm in.”

  “Really?” he asks surprised. “I know it's your dream to do an Unplugged on MTV…”

  “I still could,” I watch as he grabs his shot. “You never know. Maybe this DVD will get us there.”

  “Well, then,” he says, motioning for me to do the same, “here's to us. Seizing opportunities and hopefully—a newer and brighter future. No matter what—together.”

  He clinks his glass to mine and we quickly take our shots. Sweet fire burns my throat pleasantly as I follow my shot with a drink of beer. The crowd cheers as the comedian closes his act and is replaced by another.

  We sit through a few acts, listening and laughing. We ended up sitting by a couple I know from Reggie’s and we ended up pulling our tables together to chat. A couple of hours later, the last comedian makes an announcement.

  “Now starts open mic night here at the Gallery Cabaret. Do we have any volunteers to start the night off?”

  An excited young girl gets shoved onto the stage by her friends. They're probably from the university out for a night of fun. I can tell she's wasted the second she opens her mouth, but she gives it a good shot. By the end of her performance her friends were singing with her.

  Adam excuses himself after a string of volunteers come forward. I think after that opening number, the audience realized you can't get much worse and decided to showcase their talent. I sit and listen to an older gentleman sing some country blues. I love venues like this.

  You can walk a mile in someone's shoes just by listening to the music they share. It's a beautiful life to live sharing experiences this way. There are many days I feel older than I am and then there are those days like today—when I feel as if I haven't lived at all.

  “Alright, that was great!” the announcer says as the gentleman walks off the stage. “Do we have a Nova Pierce in here tonight?”

  “Over here!” Adam yells before I can stop him.

  “What the hell?!” I hiss when he gives me a wink.

  “Hey, Nova!” the announcer continues, “why don't you come up and show us what you've got?”

  The spotlight focuses on me, making me nervous.

  “I'm not prepared!” I give them an apologetic smile.

  “Come on!” Adam grabs my hand.

  Sparse applause rises here and there as Adam hauls me to the stage behind him.

  “Adam,” I'm nearly in a panic, “I am seriously not prepared. I haven't rehearsed—I don't know what I'm doing.”

  “Just sing,” he encourages, shoving me on the stage. “It's open mic night. Let's warm ‘em up with something and try something of our own.”

  My regulars from Reggie’s whoop and holler in excitement as Adam straps a guitar around his shoulders. I smile awkwardly at the crowd and decide to introduce myself.

  “Hi everyone,” I wave. “My name is Nova and this is Adam. Some of you might already know us and our band Nova Rose. Honestly, I just came here for fun and to do something a little different. I don't know what Adam has in mind here, but… I guess we'll just go with it.”

  I listen to Adam strum on the chords for a bit and try not to focus on the crowd waiting expectantly. Cheers from the crowd calm me down a little as I hear familiar chords begin to play. I look to Adam for confirmation and he nods.

  I've never done this song acoustically before. I don't know why. It's beautiful. I wait for my cue and open up into “Familiar Taste of Poison” by Halestorm. The crowd immediately cheers and joins in. He picked the perfect song. It's a great warm up song and brings a mellow crowd up and into the moment with you.

  It's a powerhouse so
ng and I love its honest ferocity. I can't say that I don't understand what the great Lzzy Hale is saying in this song. I relate to her so much but also live vicariously through her songs. My life isn't as great as hers sounds. One day…

  It's strange, doing an acoustic version of a song you've never done before live. There's this excited anxious anticipation because you don't really know what to expect—what if you make it sound awful?

  This crowd though. It's so mellow and the vibe just relaxes me to the point that I just let go and enjoy this feeling. It's like that moment of relief right after a scare. Everything is alright. Just sing the song the way it feels to you.

  When we finish the song, the crowd cheers and I look at Adam. He gives me a wink and starts thrumming through some soft chords. I notice a couple of phones are being held up and I grin.

  “Here's something you might know,” I grin at Adam. “Take your pick.”

  “Which one?” he asks.

  “Your call,” I reply, making the crowd laugh. “Who wants an original?”

  The crowd erupts in applause and Adam nods his head.

  “Alright, Super-Nova,” he chuckles and starts picking out another riff, “let's see if you can figure this one out. Let's do: 'Feels like hate.'”

  I nod my head but panic for a moment. This song is really heavy and fast at moments and when Adam starts, I panic harder. He's changed the beat. It's slow, deeper, darker. It takes me a minute to adjust everything in my head, but soon enough I relax and let it flow naturally.

  “Meaningless empty conversation

  Tense silence burns in your eyes

  Lost in thought or maybe translation

  It's my curse, just leave me to die

  I want to make you burn

  Until your well runs dry

  I don't want to let you sleep

  Until you're sick and torn inside

  I want to make you hurt

  Until you feel my pain

  I'm gonna make you love me

  Until it feels like hate.”

  Adam gets up and picks up the pace with a hard rockabilly sound, so I go along with him.