Part 01: Lance - Matters of the Heart

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A band forms; a love begins.
13.5k words
4.5
9.6k
1

Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 04/05/2008
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Our story began the summer before our Sophomore year in High School. We grew up together. We lived in a small town in West Virginia known as Montgomery Town, named after the family that lived there years ago. Part of the family still exists today.

*

I was in my room writing when my cellphone rang. I picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Are you coming up? It was Billy. Um . . . yes, I told him. I'm on my way.

Okay, he followed and we hung up.

I slipped on my boots and headed for the door. Dad, can I borrow the Jeep?

He looked at me. Where are you going?

Billy's house.

I still do not see why you will not join them, my mother said to me. She was referring to the band that my friends had started.

The truth is, I had been writing stories and cheesy poems ever since I could remember, and although I had a decent voice, I had no interest in singing.

I don't sing, I told her.

You used to sing in church, she reminded me.

That was a long time ago, I followed.

It wasn't that long ago."

Long enough.

My father tossed me his car keys. Be careful with it, he warned.

Always I yelled before going out the door.

I hurried out to the Jeep and drove up the road to Billy's house. I pulled up to the garage where they held band practice.

Everyone greeted me when I walked into the garage. I sat on the old couch and listened to the new song that Dalton had written. When it sounded good enough to Billy, he called a break. Billy was the one that was always in control of every situation, so everyone looked to him to make sure things were the way they were supposed to be.

Lance, would you get us some drinks from the kitchen? Billy asked me.

I got up and went into the kitchen and took five sodas from the refrigerator. Dalton's song was still dancing in my head and I began to sing the chorus, aloud, to myself. Bad idea. When I turned back around, Billy was standing in the doorway, his mouth wide open.

I thought you said you couldn't sing, he said.

I never said that I couldn't, I told him. I just said that I wouldn't.

I doubt that." He grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me back into the garage. He shoved his microphone at me. We are going to do the chorus of Go Away, he explained to everyone. I want you to sing lead, he told me.

What? I almost shouted. Hell, no

Come on, Lance, he pleaded.

No, I said firmly.

Don't tell us you're scared, Devon said.

I am not scared.

Prove it, Billy challenged. Sing with us.

No, I repeated.

Lance, you don't have to be shy around us, Dalton insisted.

I know, but . . .

But what?

Come on, Lance, Billy pleaded.

I looked at their pleading faces for a few seconds and then gave in. I took Billy's microphone and then the music began. My heart was racing, but when I began to sing, I felt myself relax. I felt as if I had been singing all my life. When the music faded away and all became quiet, I opened my eyes.

Wow, Devon said under his breath.

Damn, Billy, Dalton followed. He's almost better than you are.

To my surprise, Billy nodded. Almost. He patted me on the back. Welcome to the band.

We lived on Hummingbird Lane and only a couple houses away from each other. That was how we got to know each other so well. Billy Cole lived in the enormous house at the top of the hill. It always reminded me of a King's castle, watching over its Kingdom. His mother left him and his father when he was ten years old. From what I know, they have not seen or heard from her since, so it was just he and his father in that big house. His father was hardly ever home, so we could use his garage for band practice without complaints from all the noise.

Dalton Cole was Billy's cousin. He lived in the single story house at the bottom of the hill. His father and Billy's father were cousins, but they rarely spoke. Dalton lost his mother to cancer when he was six years old. He does not remember much about her. His father drove an eighteen wheeler for a company called JB Hunt, which meant that was gone six months out of the year. He would leave and be gone for two months and come home for two weeks and then he went back out on the road. I suppose the money was good, but it meant Dalton being alone for months at a time. Still, he had us to keep him from getting lonely.

Three houses down the road was Devon Stone. His parents moved him here when we were just starting preschool. It was not long after that we all became friends. He was the tallest sixteen-year-old that I knew, standing at six feet tall. It was insane. He always wore his black cowboys' hat and very expensive snake skin cowboy boots. He loved horses. His parents owned many and they bred them and sold the colts for a pretty penny. Devon's parents, like mine, were business people, but my parents were usually home on the weekends. His parents would leave him along for weeks. They were always away on business trips to places like Chicago or New York City and even Seattle, Washington.

Right beside Devon lived Ronnie Short. His name fit him perfectly, considering that he stood only about 5'3. I stood 5'10, so there was not much difference, but his height never seemed to bother him. It was one of his many charms, he always said. It is what made him unique. Ronnie had somewhat of a normal family. His father worked for the local Fruit Farm and his mother was a Homemaker, taking care of the elderly in their homes.

Not too long after I had joined the band, we began to advertise. I guess Billy thought we were ready. We began to play at birthday parties and weddings. We even got invited to play at the Teen Civic Center. They built it years ago to keep kids out of trouble. When we arrived at the Civic Center, we unloaded the van that Devon's father had bought for us. It was the only thing big enough to haul all of our equipment. Once inside, we began to set up.

Hey, Lance, look who's here, Billy said to me in a low voice.

Who? I asked, without looking up.

Miranda, he replied and pointed her out.

I looked up and saw her standing by the pool table with her lifelong friend, Raven Jenkins.

Wow, Devon said. She really filled out, didn't she?

I couldn't deny it. She was more beautiful than ever. Her blue eyes could make Satan fall in love with her. Her dark brown hair reached her lower back. The outfit that she wore left little to the imagination. She could make a Priest stop and take notice. She wore a shirt that read, Brunettes Have More Fun. The blue jeans she wore hugged her hips very well and my heart began to beat faster as I continued to check her out.

Lance, Devon said. Lance.

What? I answered him.

You're staring, he said.

I am not.

You were.

Okay. I was. Shut up about it.

Do you like her? he asked me.

I looked at him. How can I like her? I barely know her anymore."

You don't have to know someone to like them, Billy spoke up.

I know that, I told him. But I don't.

He and Devon exchanged glances.

Uh-huh, said both of them.

Miranda Quinn was her name. I have known Miranda as long as I have known the guys. We were best friends throughout middle school. Seventh grade was when we drifted away from each other. She met knew people and that was the end of our friendship. It was that easy. That night was the first night I had really taken notice.

That evening went well. There were many requests from the audience for songs that we knew and some that we did not, but we sung them anyway. Later, after nearly everyone had gone, I was gathering up my equipment when I looked up and saw Miranda standing in front of me.

"Miranda," I said, aloud. "Uh, h-hi." I tripped over my words.

"Hi, Lance," she greeted. "I didn't know you could sing."

I smiled. "Neither did I."

"You sounded really good."

"Thanks." There was an awkward pause. "So, um, it has been a long time," I said, finally.

"I know," she replied.

I looked at her for another long moment. She stared back at me. My heart sped up. I didn't know what to say.

"I heard about your grandmother," I told her. "I'm sorry. I always liked her."

She smiled, faintly. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. I miss her."

I just nodded.

"Well, Raven is waiting, so . . . "

"Yeah." She turned to leave. "Miranda?" It came out of my mouth before I could stop it. She turned back to face me. "Um, would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?" I asked, slowly and uncertain.

She looked at me for a moment. So long, in fact, that I did not think she was going to respond. "Really?" she asked, finally.

"Yeah. Would you?"

She nodded. "Okay."

I smiled. "Awesome. I will pick you up at seven."

She returned my smile. "Okay. I will see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

She turned and walked out the door.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see my friends.

"Did I hear that correctly?" Billy asked me.

I just looked at him.

"Did you just ask Miranda Quinn out?" Dalton asked me.

"Uh, yeah," I replied.

"She said yes?" Devon followed.

"Yeah."

"Wow," Ronnie said.

I chuckled. "I know."

The next evening at Billy's, we were rehearsing some new stuff for a concert the following weekend. I was so nervous that I could not stand still longer than a few minutes.

"Would you knock it off?" Billy demanded, obviously annoyed.

I took a deep breath and stood still for a moment. "I am sorry," I said and continued to pace the floor. "But I can't."

"Sit," he ordered.

"Woof," I quipped.

The guys laughed, but Billy just looked at me.

"Would you like a beer or something?" Billy asked me.

"What?"

"To calm your nerves."

"What? No," I said, quickly. "Billy, you know I don't drink."

"I was kidding, Lance. Relax."

I looked at him. "Relax? Miranda and I have not been in the same room together in nearly two years, much less spoken to one another. We ran out of things to say years ago. What are we supposed to talk about?"

"I am sure you will do just fine, Lance," Devon assured me.

"Oh," I groaned. "Why did I even ask her out? What was I thinking?"

"I don't think you were," Dalton answered.

"Huh?" said I, confused.

"We all saw the way you were looking at her last night," he explained. "Just go with it."

"Uh-huh. Easy for you to say," I told him.

When six-thirty rolled around, I got into my father's Jeep and went to pick up Miranda. I took her to Penny's, a local diner. I had forgotten that the place was so ritzy and wished I had brought more than fifty dollars.

"A table for two, please," I requested, when the waitress greeted us.

"Right this way, please." She led us to a booth in the back of the restaurant. "Here are your menus. What can I get you to drink?" she asked.

"Um, I will have a diet soda, please," Miranda said. "Anything is fine."

"Just a soda," I told her. "Mountain Dew."

"Okay. I will be back in a moment to take your order." She turned and left is alone for a few minutes.

Miranda looked around the restaurant, nervously. "Have you been here before?" she asked me.

"Yeah. I have been here a couple of times with my parents."

"Great. Any recommendations?"

"Well, are you a vegetarian? I forget."

She giggled. "Not at all. I will eat just about anything."

I raised me eyebrows. "Really?"

She looked at me for a moment and then smiled, reading my mind. "Don't get any ideas, Lance."

I just laughed. "Well, I personally like the pasta here. Also, I've heard good things about the steak. Also, there is this dinner salad, if that is what you're into."

"Ooh, steak. I love steak, especially the filet mignon. I like mine extra rare."

Yikes The filet mignon is very expensive. Maybe I should not have mentioned the steak.

"Cool," I said. "I like a girl with a little bloodlust."

She just laughed.

The waitress came back.

"So, are we ready to order, or would you like to start with an appetizer?"

Argh, I thought. I am trying to conserve cash here. Stop trying to make me look bad

"Miranda," I said. "Is there any particular appetizer you would like?"

"Hmm. I can go either way. I will let you decide."

"Okay. Get us the finger food variety platter, please."

"What would the young lady like for her entree?" the waitress asked.

"Um, I will try the pasta. I will go with the fettuccini Alfredo," Miranda told her.

"You, young man? What would you like?"

"I think I'll go with the spaghetti and meatballs."

"Thank you," said the waitress. "I will be back with your food in a little while." She turned and walked away.

"Did you see that awful uniform she was wearing?" Miranda asked me, after she was out of sight.

"I didn't really pay attention," I replied.

"Are you kidding? That poor girl. She should get hazard pay."

"I must have been looking at you the whole time . . . "

She giggled. "Save that kind of line for someone a little blonder."

I laughed.

Soon, the waitress returned with our food. We finished our meal in due course. Then she came back a little later with a dessert menu.

"I see you two have finished your meals. Did you save room for dessert?"

"I am stuffed, but you are welcome to order something," I told Miranda.

"Actually, I'm full too and I don't want to overstuff myself. Otherwise, we might not be able to walk out of here."

I laughed and looked at the waitress. "Could we just have the check, please?"

"Of course," she said. "Here you are."

Let's survey the damages, I thought and took the check from her. Hmm . . . thirty-seven dollars. I left a tip on the table.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Thanks for dinner," she told me.

"It was fun."

"Thank you, guys. Hope you enjoyed the meal," said the waitress as I paid.

We walked out to the Jeep. I opened the door for her and then closed it after she was in. I went around and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Thanks, Lance," She told me after we were on the road. "That was really special."

I smiled at her. "It was only special because you were there with me."

I could see her blush, even in the dark. "How can you say things like that and not expect me to kiss you?"

Surprised, I looked over at her. She leaned across the seat and kissed my lips. Keeping my left hand on the steering wheel and trying to keep my eyes on the road, I wrapped my other arm around her neck and kissed her back. I was thankful that it was nighttime and the road we were on was empty of traffic. I pulled off the road and onto a gravel driveway and put the Jeep in park. However, I left it running so that we would have the air conditioner to keep us cool.

Our kiss became very hot, so much in fact, that I was finding it hard to breathe. My left hand left the steering wheel and was traveling up her leg, under her skirt, and when I touched her panties, I felt her body go stiff. A second later, she relaxed again. Was that good or bad?

It wasn't until we climbed into the backseat and were nearly undressed that I realized what we were about to do. I should have stopped right then, but I didn't. I pressed forward, calling her name repeatedly until finally, it was over. Spent, I fell forward, my body over hers, my breathing as heavy and as fast as hers. For a few seconds, we did nothing else and we didn't say anything. I kissed her gently on the forehead and rose.

I looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed. "Are you all right?" I asked her, worried. "I didn't mean to be so . . . "

"I'm fine," she said, touching my lips with her fingers to quiet me.

A few minutes ticked by and then she raised herself on her elbows. I couldn't keep my eyes from looking at her, lying there as naked as the day she was born.

"Was that your first time?" she asked me, unexpectedly.

"Um . . . " I nodded. "Yeah."

She smiled. "Wow."

I looked at her for a moment. "You?"

She looked away for a moment and then she looked at me. "No."

I raised my eyebrows. "No?"

"No," she repeated. "I will explain later," she said and began to dress.

I looked at my watch. Twelve-thirty. "I guess I better get you home," I told her and began to dress. "I don't want to get you into trouble with your Mom."

She laughed. "That will be the day."

I just looked at her.

"Never mind," she said.

"Okay."

I climbed out of the backseat and got back into the driver's seat. Miranda climbed over the seat. Her father died before she was born and I did not know her mother all that well, because she was never around when we were kids.

A few minutes later, we arrived at Miranda's house. It was dark.

"My mother must be in bed already," she told me as I pulled into the driveway.

I walked her to the front door.

"Thank you, Lance," she told me, again. "Tonight was . . . amazing."

I smiled and leaned in to kiss her. When I pulled back, we stared at each other for a long moment. I could not keep my heart from beating against my chest.

"Good night, Lance," she said.

"Sweet dreams, Miranda." She turned and went inside, leaving me stunned.

"Wow," I said to myself.

When I got home, I stumbled back the hallway to my bedroom, exhausted.

The next morning, I woke up hungrily, so I helped myself to a large breakfast, consisting if three fried eggs, a handful of bacon and three slices of toast.

My parents were leaving that morning to go to Miami, to some kind of conference held by their company. Neither one of them liked to fly and they liked to sight see on their trips, so naturally, they drove on all of their trips. My bedroom is full of out of state souvenirs.

My father left me his Jeep to use while they were gone. They were taking my mother's Cadillac. I stood on the front porch and watched them drive away, just as I had done countless times before. I turned to go back inside once they were out of sight, but the sound of Billy's mustang approaching caused me to turn back around in time to see him pull into the driveway. He turned off the engine and all four of my friends climbed out.

"Where are they headed this time?" Devon asked, walking up the sidewalk. He was talking about my parents.

"Miami," I said. "A conference. Two weeks, tops. Yours?"

He stopped a moment to think about it. "New York City?" he said, unsurely. "Or was it Chicago? I can't keep track anymore."

I just laughed.

"So," said Billy. "How was it?"

"How was what?" I asked him, although I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Your date with Miranda," Devon replied. "How did it go?"

I knew that my face would give me away so I turned and went into the house and began to wash dishes.

"Well?" Billy asked, following me, with the guys trailing behind him, also curious.

"Well . . . I'm not sure," I told them.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Devon asked.

"Um . . . nothing. Never mind. It went fine."

"Cool," Ronnie said.

I almost told them what happened in the back of my father's Jeep. Yet. I decided to hold back. It was too soon.

Since it was Sunday, we did not do much of anything that day. We just hung around my house all day and then later, we decided to grill some cheeseburgers and hot dogs. I was just getting them started when we heard a car pull into the driveway.

"Lance," Ronnie said. "You have got company."

I looked up and saw Miranda getting out of her car. The sight of her caused my heart to skip a beat. I walked out to greet her.

"Hey," I greeted.

"Hi," she said. "I'm sorry that I didn't call. I just . . . I didn't know what to say."

"It's okay," I told her. "I wanted to call you, too, but . . . "

"I know." She looked at me for a moment. "Um . . . about last night . . . "

"Having regrets?"

She shook her head. "No. Not at all. Well, maybe a little. It's just that everything happened so fast. There wasn't much time to think. It didn't seem real."

"I know," I said. "But it did happen. It was real."

"I know."

She came forward and kissed me. I cupped her face and kissed her back. She pulled away and stepped back.