Bridges - Chapter 1
Bridges
Chapter 1
By Lori Finnegan
2013
“Lira! Lira, dear-did you remember to bring your camera? The new fancy one that you can put the pictures on the computer with? We need to get new photos of the deli today.”
Lira Montgomery glanced in the mirror at her great aunt Ida and gave her a smile. “Yes, Aunt Ida. It's in the trunk. Along with everything else you told me to bring.”
“She's always been the best of Nita's grandchildren,” Great Aunt Melba whispered across to her sister.
Lira's aunt Carol, who sat in the passenger seat beside her, gave her a wink. Lira wasn't sure what it meant. Was Aunt Carol sympathizing with her, or agreeing with what Aunt Melba said?
Lira stopped at the light and waited for it to turn green. Every Tuesday night she drove her aunt and two great aunts to the Cleveland, Minnesota historical center-it was actually a room at the back of town hall-and the four of them, along with a few other ladies, most of them in their older years like her aunts, would discuss the preservation of their town. It mostly consisted of letter writing and occasionally phone calls to pester politicians to support their cause. It always consisted of gossip, eating pastries, and drinking coffee.
“Oh my word!” Aunt Carol said, lifting her hand to her heart.
“What? What is it?” Lira looked in the direction of her aunt's gaze. There was a man hanging a sold sign on the town's most prominent property. It was the property that they had been trying to convince the city to buy all year with no success.
“Pull around the corner!” Aunt Carol said, her voice shrill.
The light had turned green, and cars were beginning to honk at them. Lira quickly flicked on her blinker and made the right hand turn around the corner. She pulled up alongside the house and stared up at its Victorian peaks. Aunt Carol had already thrown open the door and was getting out while her two great aunts chattered anxiously in the back seat.
“Be careful!” Aunt Ida called to her.
Lira looked for cars and then followed her aunt out onto the sidewalk. The man was now walking up the front walk. He was dressed in a suit, and when he saw Carol coming at him, he stopped in his tracks.
“Um, can I help you ladies?” the man asked.
Aunt Carol was now halfway across the grass, but when he spoke, she stopped where she stood and clutched her handbag. “Yes. Yes, you may help us.” She then more slowly approached him. “My name is Mrs Carol Arnason and I'm president of the Cleveland Historical Society.”
His expression deadpanned. He had obviously heard of them. Probably in the dozens of letters that had showed up at his realtors office. “I see...”
“Yes, you see. Well, this property just happens to be of great value to our town, and we and many Cleveland citizens wish to list it as a historical site.”
He looked like he wanted to run. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but the house has been sold and the deal is done. You should know more than anyone that that had nothing to do with me, but the person who originally owned it. You should have talked to him.”
“We have,” Aunt Carol said between clenched teeth.
There was an awkward silence and then the man smiled at them. “Well, I have to get going. I hope you have a good day.” He left both Aunt Carol and Lira standing on the grass.
“This is just dreadful!” Aunt Carol said once the man had disappeared into the house. “Whoever bought the house could come by with a wrecking ball tomorrow!”
Lira looked up at the house. It was a three story Victorian that needed a bit of work. The siding needed restoring and some of the windows were cracked. As for the roof, it probably needed to be completely replaced. The historical society's goal was to make the place into a walk through museum, but with a private owner, that hope was almost completely dashed.
“Let's hope there won't be a wrecking ball, Aunt Carol,” she said. “Come on. Let's get back into the car and out of this hot sun.”
*****
New. Unused. Unbroken. These were all words that Jarred Lancaster wanted to use to describe his new existence.
The first thing he did along the way was get a new phone number. He didn't want anyone calling him. Then he had found a place that seemed cozy and comfortable; so small-townish compared to what he had been used to. He had spent several nights in a motel until he had found more permanent digs. It had been strange living out of a suitcase and feeling like he had no contact with the outside world. He seemed so far away from everything.
It was on his fifth day in town when he found a place and then moved in shortly after. That was when he realized that there were a lot more people in the town than he had originally thought.
Jarred was trying to cook something in the ancient kitchen without setting the house on fire when there was a loud knock at the front door. He turned the burner down on the stove just to be on the safe side and then hurried through the living room and into the front hall where he swung the door open.
Three old ladies were standing there. None of them were smiling.
“Can I help you ladies?” he asked.
The one wearing an obvious wig cleared her throat. “Are you the owner of this house?”
Jarred wasn't sure how he wanted to answer that. “Um... maybe?”
They all glared at him.
“Can we come inside?” the wigged one asked.
That was an easier one to answer. “No.” He went to close the door, but she he held out her hand to stop him.
“Sir, if you will please hear us out.” Her gaze was hard underneath her wrinkled brow. “We are from the Cleveland Historical Society, and your house is a listed historical site.”
This was all news to him. He would have to go online later and read up about it. It sounded vaguely interesting. “I'm really not in the mood for a story right now.” He went to shut the door again.
She stopped him once more. “Sir! Please listen.”
He sighed.
“I don't know what plans you have for this house, but we will fight you tooth and nail if you mean to destroy this house in any way.”
“Okay, goodbye.” Jarrod finally closed the door on them and locked it. Geez, there were weirdos everywhere, not only in California. And apparently they came in all ages. What concerned him the most about this strange encounter was that it appeared that his peaceful small town life may end up being not so peaceful after all.
*****
It was on the third day in his new house that Jarred's solitary life started to get to him a little, and it surprised him. He figured that he had always been so used to being around so many people-all the time-that just having himself as company was going to take a little getting used to.
Maybe he should have eased into it.
He grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter and headed out the back door. He ran past the weeds that were creeping up onto the pavement and the overgrown grass and ducked into the garage on the other side of the lawn. He knew his house was old, but the garage had definitely been built later. However, it still was not in the best shape. Jarred wished that he had spent quality time with his father growing up and maybe he could have been able to fix this place up himself. Instead, he had spent the days collecting phone numbers and scheduling days for people to come out and do some repairs. And there were a lot of them.
He climbed into his car and looked at himself in the rear view mirror. There had to be something to do in this town.
It was only five minutes later that he found himself driving down Broadway Street. Apparently, there wasn't much to do Cleveland, Minnesota, and the only places open after eight were a small restaurant and a bar that were located across the street from one another. Jarred felt a little intimidated about going into either one. In a town this small, they would obviously know he was a stranger.
He pulled up outside the bar and saw that there were quite a few cars parked in their lot and along the street outside. If it were a busy night, maybe no one would notice him and he could at least check things out. He found a spot on a side street and then made the short walk to the front door.
He had been right. Dead as Cleveland was on the outside, the place came alive the second he opened the door to Jake's Pub. The stools at the bar were almost all occupied, couples and groups were sitting at tables, gathered around pool tables, and at the back of the bar they had an area set up for a band. Jarred hoped he could blend in a little. He grabbed an open stool at the bar and signaled to the bartender that he'd like a beer.
“That's the complete wrong guitar.”
Jarrod looked up from his drink to see a guy on his left with sandy blonde hair looking over him toward the music stage. “I'm sorry, what?”
“Oh, I'm sorry.” The guy looked at him. “When I'm talking to myself I shouldn't say it out loud. I'm Sean Randall by the way. I'm a member of the band playing later. Our new guitarist is setting up his things, but he put out the wrong guitar for the first set. If I cared more I would get up and help him, but I'd rather sit here and finish my beer.” He stuck out his hand so Jarred could shake it. “I don't think we've met.”
Jarred was a little stunned for a moment. This Sean guy had given him more information than someone in California would have given in an extra long weekend. After he recovered, he shook the man's hand. “Jarred Lancaster. I'm new in town. I bought the old Victorian house on First and Washington.”
Sean's eyes went wide. “Oh, really? For real? Man, we used to think that place was haunted when we were kids.”
“Well, it's not haunted. Not that I'm aware of anyway.” Though Jarred did think the history of kids being terrified of his house was pretty entertaining. “Although, earlier this week I had three old ladies come to my door saying they were from the Cleveland Historical Society and that they-what? That look on your face...”
Sean took another swig of his beer and then looked back at Jarred. “It's just that I know them. Well, not personally, but I know of them. They're like dogs on a bone. Good luck, pal.”
Dogs on a bone? He could see that, especially with their wigged front runner. She was one nasty customer.
Sean clapped a hand on Jarred's shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Jarred. If you're still around when this set is over, the band will be hanging around for more drinks and you can meet the rest of the guys. Right now, we're about ready to roll, so I gotta get going.” He slid off his stool.
“Good to meet you, too,” Jarred said and then turned around in his stool to face the bar once more. It wasn't long before he heard a few beats of a drum, followed by the pecks at a bass guitar, and he turned around to see the band getting ready for their set. Sean was at the keyboard. He had a drummer and a bassist already on stage with him, however his new guitar player was not yet on stage.
The bass player left his instrument for a moment and then came back with a scrawny looking man that couldn't be more than twenty years old. Well, wait, he had to be at least twenty-one... right? In any case, he had a baby face. He was holding a guitar and smiling out at the crowd that was completely oblivious to him. They were all too busy enjoying their drinks and conversations with friends.
“Hey, Jakes!” the scrawny kid said into the microphone. “Welcome to another fun Friday night. We're the Toasted Marshmallows, and we're to rock it!” He pointed to the drummer who was giving him an odd look, but eventually took the hint and started the beat for the first song.
Jarred was pretty sure the expression on his face matched the drummer's. The Toasted Marshmallows? Was that for real? He had heard of some pretty weird band names in his day... well, okay, this was a pretty weird band name.
The song had a good beat and a good melody. It was actually pretty catchy in Jarred's opinion. The only thing that was off about it was the guitarist's voice. He wasn't bad, it was just that he wasn't exactly good. Jarred decided to stay till the end of the set and meet the band at the end. If he were going to stick it out and Cleveland for a while, and hell, considering he had bought a house, he was at least here for a little bit, he may as well mingle with some locals.
*****
Lira was sitting off to the side of the small stage at Jake's Pub, watching the Toasted Mushrooms play their set, and tapping her black shoes to the beat. Their new lead singer, Conor Flynn, had hit a few wrong notes, and she was pretending she hadn't noticed.
When they were done playing, the guys filtered off the stage with their things and began to take their instruments past Lira and toward the back door of the pub. She caught Sean's eye and waved at him.
He smiled back, but was carrying his keyboards, and quickly walked past.
“What did you think?” Rachel Neuquist asked from the seat beside her.
Lira nodded, but she didn't look at Rachel. “They did pretty good for working in their new guy.”
Rachel crossed her legs. “He's a little bony, isn't he?”
“I don't see what that has to do with him singing or playing the guitar,” Lira said.
Rachel only smiled. “It doesn't.”
Lira signed and leaned over onto their table. She stared through her drink out at the pub and wondered why she spent her Friday nights hanging out with Rachel. Oh, wait. That's right. It suddenly all came back to her. She was single and living Cleveland, Minnesota. What else was she supposed to do on Friday night?
The table rattled, and Lira sat up to see Sean sitting beside her.
“It's all yours, doll,” he said. “Knock it out.”
*****
By the time Sean reappeared into the bar, Jarred was onto his second beer and wondering if he should get going. Sean waved him over to a table near the stage, though, so Jarred paid his tab and walked over with his beer.
“Everyone, this is Jarred,” Sean said. “Jarred, this is everyone.”
A tall guy stood up to shake his hand. “More specifically, I’m Dave, and that’s Alex.” He nodded to the blonde guy beside Sean. “Great intro, Sean.”
“Hey,” Jarred said and then sat down at the table. “You guys played a pretty good set. Awesome sound.”
Sean took a swig of his beer. “Thanks. And I mean that too. It was a little rough going with our new lead. It’s going to take a while to break him in.”
The other guys nodded and mumbled that they agreed.
Alex filed his glass from the pitcher. “He took off a few minutes ago. Something about studying for a test.”
“A test? It’s Friday night!” Dave looked as though it were some sort of crime against humanity. “What kind of college student is he?”
“Apparently the type that studies on a Friday night,” Sean said. “Or the type that got the hint that we weren’t too pleased with his performance and wanted to get the hell out of dodge.”
Alex snorted, and Dave laughed. Jarred only smiled. He actually felt a little bad for the guy. It was hard being new, much less the odd man out. Jarred obviously knew what it was like to be the new guy, but for some reason, he never had a problem fitting in. Well, not with friends, anyway.
“So, where are you from, Jarred?” Sean asked once the laughter had died down. “You said you just moved into that old house on First and Washington, but you didn't say where you came from or what brought you to town.”
Jarred smiled a little over his beer. Not because he was happy about the question but because he knew it would come up eventually. He took a sip and then set it back down on the table. “Well, it might sound a little extreme, but I drove up here to reclaim a part of my art that I used to have but somehow lost along the way.”
“That's... vague.” Sean raised an eyebrow at him. “Care to elaborate?”
“Music,” Jarred said. He was looking down at his beer and then glanced up at the guys to read their expressions. “I'm a musician. But I'm a sell out. I don't want to be a sell out anymore, so I came here to find my sound again.”
The guys were all staring at him.
Finally, Sean cleared his throat. “Why here? Of all places? I mean... no one knows about us.”
Jarred smiled. “Exactly.”
There was a slight pause and then Dave spoke up. “Do you play guitar?”
“Hang on, hold up a second,” Sean said before Jarred could respond. “We just met this guy, and you're going to offer him a spot in our band? We haven't even kicked out Conor yet.”
Dave shrugged. “It seems like a good idea.”
“Don't worry,” Jarred said. “I'll save you guys the trouble. I'm not really looking to be a part of a band, so it's okay. But I'm flattered by the offer considering you haven't even heard me play.”
“Oh well, it was worth a shot,” Dave said and then filled his glass to the top. “Well, if you won't join us, you should come and hang out with us. If you can imagine, it's not often musicians come to Cleveland.”
Jarred smiled. “I suppose not. And sure. It sounds like fun.” He was actually thinking it would be a good opportunity to find his roots. Not only that, but to explore a new sound. And that, he wouldn't pass up.
It was then that they heard a new song being played from the stage, and Jarrod looked up. In all their discussion, he hadn't even noticed a new band setting up. There were two girls up there. One was sitting before the keyboard, and the other sat on a stool with a guitar. They were both beautiful. The keyboardist had long, strawberry blonde hair. She was wearing a shirt that showed off her frame just right, and Jarred couldn't help but notice. The guitarist was darker. Her hair was dark brown and came just past her shoulders. In her tight jeans, she knew exactly what she was showing off.
“Oh, they're The Secret,” Sean said. “Lira and Rachel. They usually play on Fridays with us. They're pretty awesome. I think people suffer through our performance to see them sometimes.”
Alex laughed. “Hey, don't put us down. We're awesome, too. They're just...” He was staring now.
Jarred pulled his eyes away from the girls. “I see what you mean.” And they could sing, too. They were doing complicated duets that he found impressive. He found himself lost in their song until it ended. Luckily, no noticed because the rest of the guys at the table were doing their own gazing.
Between enjoying the music and chatting it up between drinks, Jarred learned more about the band and their lives in Cleveland. They had gotten together a few years ago when Alex and Dave met at work and were looking for something to do on the weekend. Dave knew Sean through school and they had formed The Toasted Marshmallows. There had been another guy... someone by the name of Scott, but he had quit recently to be with his growing family. And the name, Toasted Marshmallows? Well, it had come from their love of bonfires. Or maybe it was that one one drunken night around a bonfire while they were trying to come up with a name... either way, that was that.
Jarred left that night with plans to meet again the following Friday and promises to someday let them hear him play. There was no question that he had found some new friends in town. When he walked back into his house, it was dark and quiet, and when he finally turned on the lights and looked at the clock, he saw that it was just after two in the morning.
Good thing he had nowhere to be the following day.
Chapter 2
Bridges Index
Chapter 1
By Lori Finnegan
2013
“Lira! Lira, dear-did you remember to bring your camera? The new fancy one that you can put the pictures on the computer with? We need to get new photos of the deli today.”
Lira Montgomery glanced in the mirror at her great aunt Ida and gave her a smile. “Yes, Aunt Ida. It's in the trunk. Along with everything else you told me to bring.”
“She's always been the best of Nita's grandchildren,” Great Aunt Melba whispered across to her sister.
Lira's aunt Carol, who sat in the passenger seat beside her, gave her a wink. Lira wasn't sure what it meant. Was Aunt Carol sympathizing with her, or agreeing with what Aunt Melba said?
Lira stopped at the light and waited for it to turn green. Every Tuesday night she drove her aunt and two great aunts to the Cleveland, Minnesota historical center-it was actually a room at the back of town hall-and the four of them, along with a few other ladies, most of them in their older years like her aunts, would discuss the preservation of their town. It mostly consisted of letter writing and occasionally phone calls to pester politicians to support their cause. It always consisted of gossip, eating pastries, and drinking coffee.
“Oh my word!” Aunt Carol said, lifting her hand to her heart.
“What? What is it?” Lira looked in the direction of her aunt's gaze. There was a man hanging a sold sign on the town's most prominent property. It was the property that they had been trying to convince the city to buy all year with no success.
“Pull around the corner!” Aunt Carol said, her voice shrill.
The light had turned green, and cars were beginning to honk at them. Lira quickly flicked on her blinker and made the right hand turn around the corner. She pulled up alongside the house and stared up at its Victorian peaks. Aunt Carol had already thrown open the door and was getting out while her two great aunts chattered anxiously in the back seat.
“Be careful!” Aunt Ida called to her.
Lira looked for cars and then followed her aunt out onto the sidewalk. The man was now walking up the front walk. He was dressed in a suit, and when he saw Carol coming at him, he stopped in his tracks.
“Um, can I help you ladies?” the man asked.
Aunt Carol was now halfway across the grass, but when he spoke, she stopped where she stood and clutched her handbag. “Yes. Yes, you may help us.” She then more slowly approached him. “My name is Mrs Carol Arnason and I'm president of the Cleveland Historical Society.”
His expression deadpanned. He had obviously heard of them. Probably in the dozens of letters that had showed up at his realtors office. “I see...”
“Yes, you see. Well, this property just happens to be of great value to our town, and we and many Cleveland citizens wish to list it as a historical site.”
He looked like he wanted to run. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but the house has been sold and the deal is done. You should know more than anyone that that had nothing to do with me, but the person who originally owned it. You should have talked to him.”
“We have,” Aunt Carol said between clenched teeth.
There was an awkward silence and then the man smiled at them. “Well, I have to get going. I hope you have a good day.” He left both Aunt Carol and Lira standing on the grass.
“This is just dreadful!” Aunt Carol said once the man had disappeared into the house. “Whoever bought the house could come by with a wrecking ball tomorrow!”
Lira looked up at the house. It was a three story Victorian that needed a bit of work. The siding needed restoring and some of the windows were cracked. As for the roof, it probably needed to be completely replaced. The historical society's goal was to make the place into a walk through museum, but with a private owner, that hope was almost completely dashed.
“Let's hope there won't be a wrecking ball, Aunt Carol,” she said. “Come on. Let's get back into the car and out of this hot sun.”
*****
New. Unused. Unbroken. These were all words that Jarred Lancaster wanted to use to describe his new existence.
The first thing he did along the way was get a new phone number. He didn't want anyone calling him. Then he had found a place that seemed cozy and comfortable; so small-townish compared to what he had been used to. He had spent several nights in a motel until he had found more permanent digs. It had been strange living out of a suitcase and feeling like he had no contact with the outside world. He seemed so far away from everything.
It was on his fifth day in town when he found a place and then moved in shortly after. That was when he realized that there were a lot more people in the town than he had originally thought.
Jarred was trying to cook something in the ancient kitchen without setting the house on fire when there was a loud knock at the front door. He turned the burner down on the stove just to be on the safe side and then hurried through the living room and into the front hall where he swung the door open.
Three old ladies were standing there. None of them were smiling.
“Can I help you ladies?” he asked.
The one wearing an obvious wig cleared her throat. “Are you the owner of this house?”
Jarred wasn't sure how he wanted to answer that. “Um... maybe?”
They all glared at him.
“Can we come inside?” the wigged one asked.
That was an easier one to answer. “No.” He went to close the door, but she he held out her hand to stop him.
“Sir, if you will please hear us out.” Her gaze was hard underneath her wrinkled brow. “We are from the Cleveland Historical Society, and your house is a listed historical site.”
This was all news to him. He would have to go online later and read up about it. It sounded vaguely interesting. “I'm really not in the mood for a story right now.” He went to shut the door again.
She stopped him once more. “Sir! Please listen.”
He sighed.
“I don't know what plans you have for this house, but we will fight you tooth and nail if you mean to destroy this house in any way.”
“Okay, goodbye.” Jarrod finally closed the door on them and locked it. Geez, there were weirdos everywhere, not only in California. And apparently they came in all ages. What concerned him the most about this strange encounter was that it appeared that his peaceful small town life may end up being not so peaceful after all.
*****
It was on the third day in his new house that Jarred's solitary life started to get to him a little, and it surprised him. He figured that he had always been so used to being around so many people-all the time-that just having himself as company was going to take a little getting used to.
Maybe he should have eased into it.
He grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter and headed out the back door. He ran past the weeds that were creeping up onto the pavement and the overgrown grass and ducked into the garage on the other side of the lawn. He knew his house was old, but the garage had definitely been built later. However, it still was not in the best shape. Jarred wished that he had spent quality time with his father growing up and maybe he could have been able to fix this place up himself. Instead, he had spent the days collecting phone numbers and scheduling days for people to come out and do some repairs. And there were a lot of them.
He climbed into his car and looked at himself in the rear view mirror. There had to be something to do in this town.
It was only five minutes later that he found himself driving down Broadway Street. Apparently, there wasn't much to do Cleveland, Minnesota, and the only places open after eight were a small restaurant and a bar that were located across the street from one another. Jarred felt a little intimidated about going into either one. In a town this small, they would obviously know he was a stranger.
He pulled up outside the bar and saw that there were quite a few cars parked in their lot and along the street outside. If it were a busy night, maybe no one would notice him and he could at least check things out. He found a spot on a side street and then made the short walk to the front door.
He had been right. Dead as Cleveland was on the outside, the place came alive the second he opened the door to Jake's Pub. The stools at the bar were almost all occupied, couples and groups were sitting at tables, gathered around pool tables, and at the back of the bar they had an area set up for a band. Jarred hoped he could blend in a little. He grabbed an open stool at the bar and signaled to the bartender that he'd like a beer.
“That's the complete wrong guitar.”
Jarrod looked up from his drink to see a guy on his left with sandy blonde hair looking over him toward the music stage. “I'm sorry, what?”
“Oh, I'm sorry.” The guy looked at him. “When I'm talking to myself I shouldn't say it out loud. I'm Sean Randall by the way. I'm a member of the band playing later. Our new guitarist is setting up his things, but he put out the wrong guitar for the first set. If I cared more I would get up and help him, but I'd rather sit here and finish my beer.” He stuck out his hand so Jarred could shake it. “I don't think we've met.”
Jarred was a little stunned for a moment. This Sean guy had given him more information than someone in California would have given in an extra long weekend. After he recovered, he shook the man's hand. “Jarred Lancaster. I'm new in town. I bought the old Victorian house on First and Washington.”
Sean's eyes went wide. “Oh, really? For real? Man, we used to think that place was haunted when we were kids.”
“Well, it's not haunted. Not that I'm aware of anyway.” Though Jarred did think the history of kids being terrified of his house was pretty entertaining. “Although, earlier this week I had three old ladies come to my door saying they were from the Cleveland Historical Society and that they-what? That look on your face...”
Sean took another swig of his beer and then looked back at Jarred. “It's just that I know them. Well, not personally, but I know of them. They're like dogs on a bone. Good luck, pal.”
Dogs on a bone? He could see that, especially with their wigged front runner. She was one nasty customer.
Sean clapped a hand on Jarred's shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Jarred. If you're still around when this set is over, the band will be hanging around for more drinks and you can meet the rest of the guys. Right now, we're about ready to roll, so I gotta get going.” He slid off his stool.
“Good to meet you, too,” Jarred said and then turned around in his stool to face the bar once more. It wasn't long before he heard a few beats of a drum, followed by the pecks at a bass guitar, and he turned around to see the band getting ready for their set. Sean was at the keyboard. He had a drummer and a bassist already on stage with him, however his new guitar player was not yet on stage.
The bass player left his instrument for a moment and then came back with a scrawny looking man that couldn't be more than twenty years old. Well, wait, he had to be at least twenty-one... right? In any case, he had a baby face. He was holding a guitar and smiling out at the crowd that was completely oblivious to him. They were all too busy enjoying their drinks and conversations with friends.
“Hey, Jakes!” the scrawny kid said into the microphone. “Welcome to another fun Friday night. We're the Toasted Marshmallows, and we're to rock it!” He pointed to the drummer who was giving him an odd look, but eventually took the hint and started the beat for the first song.
Jarred was pretty sure the expression on his face matched the drummer's. The Toasted Marshmallows? Was that for real? He had heard of some pretty weird band names in his day... well, okay, this was a pretty weird band name.
The song had a good beat and a good melody. It was actually pretty catchy in Jarred's opinion. The only thing that was off about it was the guitarist's voice. He wasn't bad, it was just that he wasn't exactly good. Jarred decided to stay till the end of the set and meet the band at the end. If he were going to stick it out and Cleveland for a while, and hell, considering he had bought a house, he was at least here for a little bit, he may as well mingle with some locals.
*****
Lira was sitting off to the side of the small stage at Jake's Pub, watching the Toasted Mushrooms play their set, and tapping her black shoes to the beat. Their new lead singer, Conor Flynn, had hit a few wrong notes, and she was pretending she hadn't noticed.
When they were done playing, the guys filtered off the stage with their things and began to take their instruments past Lira and toward the back door of the pub. She caught Sean's eye and waved at him.
He smiled back, but was carrying his keyboards, and quickly walked past.
“What did you think?” Rachel Neuquist asked from the seat beside her.
Lira nodded, but she didn't look at Rachel. “They did pretty good for working in their new guy.”
Rachel crossed her legs. “He's a little bony, isn't he?”
“I don't see what that has to do with him singing or playing the guitar,” Lira said.
Rachel only smiled. “It doesn't.”
Lira signed and leaned over onto their table. She stared through her drink out at the pub and wondered why she spent her Friday nights hanging out with Rachel. Oh, wait. That's right. It suddenly all came back to her. She was single and living Cleveland, Minnesota. What else was she supposed to do on Friday night?
The table rattled, and Lira sat up to see Sean sitting beside her.
“It's all yours, doll,” he said. “Knock it out.”
*****
By the time Sean reappeared into the bar, Jarred was onto his second beer and wondering if he should get going. Sean waved him over to a table near the stage, though, so Jarred paid his tab and walked over with his beer.
“Everyone, this is Jarred,” Sean said. “Jarred, this is everyone.”
A tall guy stood up to shake his hand. “More specifically, I’m Dave, and that’s Alex.” He nodded to the blonde guy beside Sean. “Great intro, Sean.”
“Hey,” Jarred said and then sat down at the table. “You guys played a pretty good set. Awesome sound.”
Sean took a swig of his beer. “Thanks. And I mean that too. It was a little rough going with our new lead. It’s going to take a while to break him in.”
The other guys nodded and mumbled that they agreed.
Alex filed his glass from the pitcher. “He took off a few minutes ago. Something about studying for a test.”
“A test? It’s Friday night!” Dave looked as though it were some sort of crime against humanity. “What kind of college student is he?”
“Apparently the type that studies on a Friday night,” Sean said. “Or the type that got the hint that we weren’t too pleased with his performance and wanted to get the hell out of dodge.”
Alex snorted, and Dave laughed. Jarred only smiled. He actually felt a little bad for the guy. It was hard being new, much less the odd man out. Jarred obviously knew what it was like to be the new guy, but for some reason, he never had a problem fitting in. Well, not with friends, anyway.
“So, where are you from, Jarred?” Sean asked once the laughter had died down. “You said you just moved into that old house on First and Washington, but you didn't say where you came from or what brought you to town.”
Jarred smiled a little over his beer. Not because he was happy about the question but because he knew it would come up eventually. He took a sip and then set it back down on the table. “Well, it might sound a little extreme, but I drove up here to reclaim a part of my art that I used to have but somehow lost along the way.”
“That's... vague.” Sean raised an eyebrow at him. “Care to elaborate?”
“Music,” Jarred said. He was looking down at his beer and then glanced up at the guys to read their expressions. “I'm a musician. But I'm a sell out. I don't want to be a sell out anymore, so I came here to find my sound again.”
The guys were all staring at him.
Finally, Sean cleared his throat. “Why here? Of all places? I mean... no one knows about us.”
Jarred smiled. “Exactly.”
There was a slight pause and then Dave spoke up. “Do you play guitar?”
“Hang on, hold up a second,” Sean said before Jarred could respond. “We just met this guy, and you're going to offer him a spot in our band? We haven't even kicked out Conor yet.”
Dave shrugged. “It seems like a good idea.”
“Don't worry,” Jarred said. “I'll save you guys the trouble. I'm not really looking to be a part of a band, so it's okay. But I'm flattered by the offer considering you haven't even heard me play.”
“Oh well, it was worth a shot,” Dave said and then filled his glass to the top. “Well, if you won't join us, you should come and hang out with us. If you can imagine, it's not often musicians come to Cleveland.”
Jarred smiled. “I suppose not. And sure. It sounds like fun.” He was actually thinking it would be a good opportunity to find his roots. Not only that, but to explore a new sound. And that, he wouldn't pass up.
It was then that they heard a new song being played from the stage, and Jarrod looked up. In all their discussion, he hadn't even noticed a new band setting up. There were two girls up there. One was sitting before the keyboard, and the other sat on a stool with a guitar. They were both beautiful. The keyboardist had long, strawberry blonde hair. She was wearing a shirt that showed off her frame just right, and Jarred couldn't help but notice. The guitarist was darker. Her hair was dark brown and came just past her shoulders. In her tight jeans, she knew exactly what she was showing off.
“Oh, they're The Secret,” Sean said. “Lira and Rachel. They usually play on Fridays with us. They're pretty awesome. I think people suffer through our performance to see them sometimes.”
Alex laughed. “Hey, don't put us down. We're awesome, too. They're just...” He was staring now.
Jarred pulled his eyes away from the girls. “I see what you mean.” And they could sing, too. They were doing complicated duets that he found impressive. He found himself lost in their song until it ended. Luckily, no noticed because the rest of the guys at the table were doing their own gazing.
Between enjoying the music and chatting it up between drinks, Jarred learned more about the band and their lives in Cleveland. They had gotten together a few years ago when Alex and Dave met at work and were looking for something to do on the weekend. Dave knew Sean through school and they had formed The Toasted Marshmallows. There had been another guy... someone by the name of Scott, but he had quit recently to be with his growing family. And the name, Toasted Marshmallows? Well, it had come from their love of bonfires. Or maybe it was that one one drunken night around a bonfire while they were trying to come up with a name... either way, that was that.
Jarred left that night with plans to meet again the following Friday and promises to someday let them hear him play. There was no question that he had found some new friends in town. When he walked back into his house, it was dark and quiet, and when he finally turned on the lights and looked at the clock, he saw that it was just after two in the morning.
Good thing he had nowhere to be the following day.
Chapter 2
Bridges Index