The Mountain View Music Center recently re-opened after a major renovation and expansion. Once one building, it was now three. The largest was a one thousand seat concert venue. The other building held a three hundred seat amphitheater and a recording studio. The initial building still remained, which held classrooms and other rooms people used as rehearsal spaces.

All day I contemplated my dilemma: should I or shouldn't I go? I waited until six forty-five in the evening to make up my mind. Levi told me to be there at seven; I showed up closer to seven thirty. I walked into five rooms, interrupting several lessons and rehearsals before finding the right room.

In the room, I found Levi behind a drum kit, as usual, and Isaiah at the keyboard. I didn't recognize the young man and woman. Each held a guitar. I vaguely recognized them from their videos on YouTube.

"Sorry I'm late," I said. "I got lost."

"I can't believe he came," Isaiah whispered, but loud enough for me to hear.

"I'm glad you made it," Levi said. He proceeded to introduce everyone, starting with the cool-looking woman. "This is Memphis, our bassist. She graduated with a degree in music production and engineering."

In a tight-fitting t-shirt with Cookie Monster in the center, a black long-sleeved shirt underneath, the ends of Memphis's platinum blond hair were dyed flamingo pink. If she added light blue, she'd look like the Birds of Prey Harley Quinn without the funky makeup.

"Nice t-shirt," I said to her.

"Thanks," she said, her fair cheeks turning pink. "It's nice to meet you, Ezra."

"You know Isaiah," Levi continued. "Sean is our lead guitarist. He graduated from Berklee, too. Actually, we're all Berklee graduates."

"I take it that's when you formed Imperfect," I said.

"You've been checking us out," Levi said. "We've been on and off again for a few years. Sometimes life got in the way."

"Levi says you can sing," Sean said. "Did he tell you we've been looking for a new singer?"

"Is that why you haven't posted any videos in three months?" I asked.

"That's part of it," Isaiah said.

"What happened to your old singer?" I asked. "He was pretty good."

"He chose to go his own way," Levi said.

"He ditched us for his own record contract," Isaiah said, "which was a real shitty thing to do."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I brought my guitar. I wasn't sure if you had an extra."

"We're not a country folk band," Sean said.

"I don't play country," I stated. "I can play an electric guitar, too."

"Whatever. I think you know what I mean," he said.

"What kind of day is it?" Levi asked.

"What kind of day?" At first, I wasn't sure what he meant.

"Yeah. You seem to have a song for everything."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I... I... I don't know," I said, suddenly very nervous, taking out my phone to check my playlist. My mind totally blanked. "Hmm.... When the Levee Breaks."

For some reason, that song popped into my head. Maybe because Levi mentioned it the other day.

"You're confident enough to sing Zeppelin?" Sean asked.

"My dad taught me the blues version," I said. "Did you know it was written in the 1920s?"

"I didn't know that," Memphis said.

"I can play it," I said, taking out my guitar. For now, I felt more comfortable using my own guitar. "And then we can play the Zeppelin version."

With my guitar, I stepped in front of the microphone that was already set up, perhaps in preparation for my arrival. For a bunch of strangers, they were a captivated audience.

"I told you he could sing," Isaiah said.

"Interesting," Sean said. "Where'd you come from?"

"He's my landlord's nephew," Levi said. "I caught him singing Pearl Jam and I was hooked."

"I wanna try the Led Zeppelin version," I said.

Enough talking, I thought to myself. I just wanted to play and sing. That's why I was there, not to tell the history of my life and how Levi and I met.

"Sure," Sean said. "Let's give it a go."

To say I messed up was an understatement. I'd never sung the Led Zeppelin version with a group of people before. Imperfect had obviously played the song before because they were great. Levi was an amazing, gifted drummer.

"Sorry," I said. "That was terrible. I guess I need more practice."

"It wasn't terrible," Levi said.

"It needs some work," Sean said, "but you have potential. You could be a good frontman if you're up for it."

"I have to think about it," I said.

"You're full of shit," Levi said. "You don't need to think about it. We have a gig in three weeks. We practice Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sometimes Sunday afternoons."

"And sometimes Monday," Sean said.

"And sometimes Wednesday," Memphis added. "We'd start earlier in the evening if Levi didn't have so many students."

"I need to make a living, don't I?" Levi said. "The gig's on a Friday, though. I hope that's okay."

"What's wrong with Friday?" Isaiah asked. "I thought you worked at the senior center."

"What else did Levi tell you about me?" I said.

No one acknowledged my question.

"He's a practicing Jew," Levi said.

"I make exceptions," I said. "I just hope I can learn all the songs by then."

After a three-hour jam session, I accepted their invitation to grab a drink at the nearby pub. They'd all known each other for years and had been writing songs together. They were like family to each other. At clubs, they mostly did covers, occasionally throwing in an original song.

"Nobody else can be the frontman?" I asked. "What about Memphis?"

Memphis laughed, spitting out her beer.

"What?" I said, confused as to why she was laughing. "You'd make a good frontman... front person, I mean. You have an interesting look."

"Thanks, but I'm not that great of a singer," she said.

"Levi's the best singer," Sean said, "but he's also a brilliant drummer."

I sensed they all wanted to feel me out and get to know me. Although I didn't consider these people my friends, I could foresee them becoming my friends. I didn't say much, listening to them talk and laugh like old friends. Unless I knew someone really well, which was a rarity, I wasn't one to reveal personal information about myself, afraid someone would ask me about my family or upbringing. I didn't want anyone to find out I killed my parents.

***

At eight in the morning, I stood outside in the cold, disappointed with the gray sky, contemplating whether or not I wanted to go to work. I struggled getting out of bed this morning.

"Hey, Ezra," Levi said from the top of his stairs.
"What are you doing?"

"Being miserable because the sky's gray," I said. "I hate March."

"Cheer up. Spring's around the corner."

"I don't know if I want to go to work today," I said.

"Why? Are you sick?"

"No, but I'm great at pretending to be sick," I said.

Levi approached me as I continued to sulk in the middle of the front lawn.

"Nice bathrobe," he said, referring to my lavender bathrobe.

"I always start the night wearing pajamas, but then I get hot and end up stripping and sleeping naked. Does that ever happen to you?"

"No," he laughed.

"Do you think I have knobby knees?" I asked, lifting my bathrobe up to my thighs.

"You don't have knobby knees," he said, his cheeks a bright red. "You're an interesting guy."

"Because I showed you my knobby knees?" I said, amused with his blushing.

"They're not knobby," he said, laughing again.

"Would you like to come in for breakfast? No one's home. I don't have to be at work until ten."

"So you're not calling out sick?"

"I don't think so. Come in. I'll make scrambled eggs."

"How could I refuse scrambled eggs?" he said, following me into the house. We walked past my bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

"Have a seat," I said.

I whisked some eggs and milk in a bowl, then transferred the mixture into a pan.

"Did you play sports in school?" I asked, looking for conversation as Levi sat at the table, fiddling with some junk mail, rolling and unrolling a flyer like he did with the silverware in the pub.

"No. I was all about music. Did you?"

"Yeah. I played soccer and football until I asked Spencer out."

"Who's Spencer?"

"The guy who punched me in my face. He was... well... he was the football quarterback. I was crazy about him, like every other girl in the school. He didn't have a girlfriend. Come to think of it, I don't think he ever had a girlfriend. Why the hell did he punch me? I quit the football and soccer teams. I couldn't take the stares and name calling. After someone left a dildo in my gym locker, that did it for me. I ran track my senior year. The track team was nicer."

"I think Spencer liked you and was afraid."

"Maybe, but he almost broke my nose, the asshole."

"And you have such a pretty nose," he flirted.

"Very funny," I said, placing a plate of eggs in front of him. "Want some coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"I know you have a sister. Have any others?" I asked, waiting for the coffee to drip into a mug.

"Yeah. I have two younger sisters."

"Ooo, you're the only boy and you're gay," I said. "That's rough."

"Yeah," was all he said about that. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No," I answered. "I'm an only child. I have lots of cousins, though."

"How'd your parents die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Yes, I do mind," I said, instantly deciding I had had enough breakfast even though I had only had a couple of bites.

"I'm sorry," Levi said. "I didn't mean to..."

Suddenly not feeling well, I got up and dumped my dishes in the sink.

"You know the way out," I said, heading to my room. Now I wasn't so sure I'd make it to work. In my room, I dropped my robe and got back into bed. In bed with my back to the door, I sensed Levi's presence.

"I'm sorry," Levi said. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious. They died so young. Was it a car accident?"

"Go away, please," I said. "Goodbye."

"Okay... I'm sorry, Ezra. Thanks for breakfast."

Well, that was a shitty start to the day, I thought to myself. I reached for the phone on my nightstand and called out sick, hoping I'd get over this wave of depression before practice tonight. I enjoyed singing with the band.

My depression lifted enough to drag myself out of bed and head to the music center at six. Since I joined Imperfect, we'd had four practices. So far so good. I was always the first one there.

Alone in the room, I sat on a stool and played the acoustic version of Nine Inch Nails' Hurt. Johnny Cash also did an amazing cover of the song.

Shortly after I started playing, Memphis arrived, but I didn't stop playing. She stood there watching me, captivated.

"That was a beautiful rendition of Hurt," she said.

From what Levi told me, Memphis was a gifted sound and audio engineer and worked at a local radio station. She did some freelance work, too.

"Thanks," I said, hopping of the stool.

"You're really talented, you know," she said, taking off her raincoat. "Levi really likes you."

She had some of the coolest t-shirts. Tonight she wore a pair of skinny jeans and black Radiohead t-shirt with a long-sleeved white t-shirt underneath. She always wore long-sleeved t-shirts underneath her shirts.

"I like him, too," I said.

"I swear he falls in love with every guy he meets," she said. "I have to say he has good taste."

Maybe she was flirting with me. Maybe my cheeks were burning because they always burned when someone complimented me. I wasn't in the mood for compliments. Any attempt at making me feel good made me feel worse. My cheeks burned hotter as Levi entered the room.

"What a miserable night," he said, running his fingers through his damp hair. What started off as a gray day turned into a rainy day.

Subdued most of the night, I went through the motions, singing with some minor mistakes. I was trying to learn Imperfect's original songs, but I was having a hard time. I'd have to spend more time with Levi.

"Hey," Memphis said as I zipped up my hoodie. Sean and Isaiah had already left, and I spotted Levi pacing in the hall, possibly waiting for me. "Are you okay? You don't seem like your bubbly self."

"Bubbly self?" I half-laughed. "I'm not bubbly. You don't know me. You know nothing about me."

"You're right. I don't," she said, walking away as she shook her pretty head. "You don't have to be a dick about it."

Shit, I thought, watching Memphis walk out of the room. I liked these people, and they didn't need me taking out my depression and bad moods on them. Memphis was trying to be a friend. I needed to learn how to trust people.

"Hey, Memphis," I said. "Sorry for being a dick."

"Yeah, well, I may know you better than you think I do. Call me and we'll talk."

I guess I'd have to call her to find out what she meant by that.

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