Sally Cinnamon

"Thanks!" Allison picked up her guitar case and stepped off the porch. The 'sidewalk' was a series of round stones that passed through the middle of a wide garden that had been planted alongside the house.

Allison followed the sidewalk directly to the shed. It wasn't until she was standing right outside the front door that Allison could hear the faint sound of rhythmic drumming. The sound immediately grew louder as she opened the door and stepped inside, making sure to close it behind her. The shed was in the same state it had been when she left on Friday night, save for what appeared to be fresh sheets on the twin bed and the fact that Matthew was sweating from the act of drumming as opposed to fucking.

Along with blue jeans, a white tank top, and black Converse sneakers, Matthew also wore his pair of in-ear monitors. Perspiration ran down his face and shoulders as he sat behind his kit. A deep thrum coming from the bass drum as he kicked in time with the song playing from the stereo. He didn't appear to have noticed Allison as she set her guitar case on the card table before turning to watch him play. She didn't recognize the song, a power-pop number. It sounded cool though.

"Runnin' 'round the house, Mickey Mouse and the Tarot cards"

"Falling asleep with a flop pop video on"

If asked, Allison would have best described his drumming style as "controlled craziness." Where most drummers Allison knew would sit on their stool and barely move anything but their arms, Matthew performed with his entire body. His head rapidly shook in time as he drove his sticks against the tight drumheads and hi-top cymbals. Amidst the drumming, Allison could make out the wide variety of hickeys, scratches, and marks that adorned Matthew's shoulders and upper arms. She couldn't help but feel a feral pride at the sight.

The song softened in volume as the final lyric repeated itself. Matthew tapped the drumstick against a wooden block in time with the words before the guitar kicked in one more time, pushing him to furiously crash his drumsticks across his kit in a boisterous flourish as the song came to an end. As silence came from the stereo speakers, Matthew grabbed his black bandana to wipe the sweat off his face. Allison waited for him to take the monitors out of his ears before calling out. "Not bad." Matthew turned towards Allison, smiling as he realized it was her. "And I'm not just saying that because you're kinda cute and I might want to get laid later on."

"Thanks," he replied gratefully. "I think."

"Didn't recognize the song. You pick that one up from your folks?"

"My Dad," he said. "It's 'Alex Chilton' by a band called The Replacements. He said they're one of those bands that would have hit big if they weren't drunken assholes on stage."

"Sounds like my kind of people. Seriously though, that wasn't a bad piece of drumming. Between that and your display the other night, if that's how you normally play you and I are going to get along just fine."

"Here's to hoping." Matthew twirled a drumstick between his fingers as he spoke. "I've always drummed along to a song or played freeform. I've never had to follow someone else's lead on the fly before."

"Your first blow job and now I get to pop one of your musical cherries? That's almost adorable." Allison turned to pop open her guitar case, revealing a candy apple red six-string electric. "Where's your amp," she asked as she pulled the guitar from the case. Matthew pointed towards the stereo. A small black-and-gray amplifier sat on the ground next to the cabinet.

"Heads up," Matthew warned as Allison brought her guitar across the shed, "it was my brother's. I don't know if it's still good or not."

"Amp's an amp." Allison got down to one knee to flip the power knob, causing the amp to emit a low hum. "Long as I can hear what I'm playing. I would have brought mine, but my sister took the fucking car and I didn't want to haul the damn thing all the way over." She plugged her guitar into the amp. Matthew watched as Allison flicked her finger across the guitar strings and listened carefully to the resulting notes coming from the amp. "I can work with this," she told him, beginning to adjust the knobs along the control panel. "So," Allison asked casually as she worked, "did Thomas subject you to merciless teasing once he saw what I had done to you?"

"Among other things." He shrugged. "A friend ribbing a friend, that's all. Mainly he was happy I got laid. Although my folks..."

Allison looked up from the amp, feeling an all-too-unfamiliar sense of worry. "Your Mom didn't act like I violated her son the other night when I knocked on the front door."

"Oh, I caught a bit of a lecture. Then she winked and told me to use birth control and treat you like a proper lady. My Dad just high-fived me."

"Shit. Your parents are definitely a lot more chill than mine. But treat me like a lady and I'll let you fucking have it. Which reminds me." Allison stood up, her guitar slung across her chest. "The rent payment. Did you want me to blow you now, or after we're done?"

"You were serious about that?"

"If you play like you did Friday night there's a good chance I'm going to fuck you anyway, but I said a blow job in return for letting me practice here and I always keep my word."

After a moment, Matthew shook his head. "Forget the rent. How about we're just two friends hanging out and jamming together, and if the blow job happens the blow job happens." Matthew looked over his drum kit at Allison. "Are we friends?"

She tapped her finger against the body of her guitar for a moment. "You managed to get a grappling hook on the wall." When Allison raised her head to look at Matthew, the annoyed, bitchy look on her face was contrasted by the softness in her eyes. "But we're not going to be holding hands and exchanging cards. You're a damn good fuck but don't go getting all emotional and clingy. Deal?"

He couldn't help but smile back at Allison. "Deal."

"Wipe that grin off your face," Allison shot back, "I came here to jam and possibly get laid, not discuss our feelings. Count us off so I can warm up."

Matthew raised his drumsticks above his head, knocking them together as he counted. "One, two, three, four..."