A Song for Julia

that a parking lot collision could do so much damage. But my car was completely wasted. Seeing it in the light, there was no question. The passenger side was crushed. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but the car was rusted through already on the bottom, and the collision with Julia’s brand new car just destroyed it.
    Crap. I was going to need new wheels. Which meant I was going to have to spend a lot more time with Julia to find them, and get them paid for. I didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not. When it came to her, I didn’t know what to think.
    She’d called me out on being a dickhead, and you want to know the truth? I kind of liked that. No one called me out, except for Serena occasionally, and my dad. In other words, the people I really care about.
    It was four in the afternoon before I got back to the house. Everyone was gone, which was fine by me. I sat down, toying with some lyrics. That got me humming, and then thinking about some opening riffs, so I moved downstairs to the studio. And found myself sitting in front of the electric piano.
    We didn’t use it much in our music. I play piano better than I play guitar. I should—my mom started teaching me before I was tall enough to reach the keyboard. But most of our music didn’t call for it, and you can’t play the guitar and piano at the same time.
    In any event, what I was toying with seemed to call for piano. So I turned it on, tried out some notes and liked it, and kept going in that direction, tinkering, daydreaming, trying out different options, until the door opened and Mark and Pathin came in.
    Mark immediately said, “Crank! What the hell happened to your car?”
    “Wrecked,” I said.
    “Yeah, we saw that. You were long gone by the time we finished packing up the gear, but we saw the car. Some drunk dude said you took off with a girl?”
    Pathin shook his head, his expression a mix of resignation and near contempt. He’d never approved of my string of girls.
    “Yeah, something like that,” I said.
    “Well, what happened? Who did it?”
    I shrugged. “The girl I took off with.”
    Mark and Pathin stared at me, in shock, and then Mark burst into laughter. “You’re hilarious, Crank.”
    “Whatever,” I muttered. Then I started playing the song again. I had the first verse and the chorus down, and it was coming together well, but something wasn’t meshing quite right. The piano was driving, angry, like most of our stuff, but I was trying to work in a longing quality, and it just wasn’t coming together. I paused, trying a couple different options, when Mark blurted out, “Dude, what the hell is that?”
    I looked up. Both of them were standing there, mouths open.
    “What?” I asked.
    They looked at each other, until Pathin spoke. “I think what Mark is trying to say, Crank, is that’s … brilliant.”
    I blinked. It wasn’t brilliant at all. It actually kind of sucked. “Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s good.”
    “Seriously,” Pathin said, “I don’t know what was in the water when you went to Washington, but that’s two new songs in a week. And they’re good. If you keep this up, we might have to go back to the studio and cut a new EP.”
    I snorted. “We’ve barely paid for the last one.”
    “Whatever, Crank. I’ll deliver some extra pizzas or something. Or maybe Mark can actually work for a change.”
    “What the hell, man, I work!” Mark protested.
    “Yes, we know, about four hours a week,” Pathin responded.
    “I pull my weight,” Mark said in a sharp tone, glowering.
    Pathin looked at him. “Do we really need to have this discussion again?”
    “Guys, cool it,” I said. “I’m trying to work here.” Christ, they were like an old married couple.
    “Whatever,” Mark muttered. “We’re headed out about ten. Coming?”
    “Where to?”
    “Bill’s.”
    Near Kenmore Square, Bill’s was connected to Lansdowne, where we’d played several shows over the last couple of years. They were friendly, and a lot of the girls from Berklee College of Music hung out there. Which usually meant it was a guaranteed spot for me to pick up some action. Though as tired as I was, I wasn’t sure I was up to it that night. Besides, I was sick of Serena giving me a hard time about it. She attended Berklee and sometimes it was a little … weird … with her hanging out with girls I’d slept with.
    Okay, a lot weird.
    “All right. Give me a little bit, I think I’ve almost got this.”
    They wandered off,