The Forever of Ella and Micha

room quiets down a little, but it’s still not the best scenario. The place is a real shithole, and for once I’d just like to play somewhere where people aren’t wasted.
    I strum a chord, put my lips up to the microphone, and pour my heart out to a roomful of strangers who aren’t listening.

    After the performance some big, bald dude corners me backstage in the hallway and hands me a card with his name and phone number on it.
    “Hey, that was an awesome performance.” He’s got a scar running down half of his arm and a gold chain around his neck.
    “Thanks,” I mumble, reading the card. “Mike Anderly.”
    “And you are…” He waits for me to tell him.
    “Micha,” I say, excluding my last name on purpose.
    “Look, I’m gonna get straight to the point.” He talks with his hands out in front of him. “I’m a music producer. I work for a pretty small but good, honest company out in San Diego. I like your sound and I’d love to talk to you about what your future plans are in the music business.”
    I stare at the card. “My future plans?”
    He nods. “Yeah, with your music.”
    I pick up my guitar case. “Yeah, I’m not sure what my plans are.”
    “Well, when you do decide, give me a call,” he says and turns for the main room. “Like I said, I’m really interested in your sound.” He walks away and I figure he’s probably just some weirdo.
    But what if he’s not? What if it’s some random act of luck? I may not have said I know what I want to do with my music, but I do. I want to play in a place that isn’t shitty, where people listen and understand. I want to be a musician.

    I feel like a parent, getting the three of them home, and by the time we’re stumbling into my apartment, I’m ready for all of them to pass out. I pick up Ella and carry her back to my bed because she can barely walk.
    “Keep your dick in your pants,” I advise Ethan as he ambles into the kitchen with his arm around a very intoxicated Lila. “And don’t drink anymore.”
    He waves me off and Lila giggles as she opens the fridge, knocking over bottles. I descend down the hall and back to my room with Ella in my arms. Her breathing is soft and she keeps murmuring something about wanting it all to go away. It’s scaring the shit out of me.
    Without putting her down, I kick my boots off into the corner with the rest of my shoes and carefully lay her down on my bed. The lights in my room are off, but the moonlight gleams through the window and onto her face, her plump lips, her beautiful, flawless pale skin.
    She snuggles into my pillow and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
    I pull the blankets over her. “For what, baby?”
    She sighs, disheartened. “For ruining your first performance.”
    “You didn’t ruin my performance, pretty girl.” With a small smile on my face, I kiss her cheek. “I love you. Now go to sleep.”
    By the time I get my shirt off, she’s passed out. I take a quick shower, washing the icky feeling of the night away. I’m not thrilled to have to play in places where people barely listen. I want more, and even though the guy was sketchy, I wonder if maybe he could be legitimate.
    When I return to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, Ella is sitting up on the bed and the lamp is on. She has a musing look on her face, like she’s about to start some trouble.
    “You’re supposed to be asleep,” I tell her, tossing my dirty clothes into the hamper and grabbing some clean pants from the top dresser drawer. It’s clear she’s checking me out, which would be great, except she’s drunk and I can’t do anything with her without feeling bad.
    “I’m bored.” Her speech is slightly slurred and her eyes are red. “Can we do something?”
    I climb into bed and sit down next to her. “I think we should go to sleep. It’s late.”
    “Ethan and Lila are still awake.” She retrieves a bottle of Jack that was hidden behind her back, twists off the cap, and flicks it to the foot of the bed. “They’re playing strip poker.”
    My eyes enlarge. “Right now.”
    She bobs her head up and down. “They’ve already both taken off their shirts.”
    “Were you just out there?”
    “Yeah, where do you think I got this?” She shakes the bottle in front of my face and my hand darts out to steal it away, but she jerks her hand back, laughing. “Uh-huh. No way, Micha Scott. Not until you play with me.” She kneels up in front of me and swings her leg over my lap, tipping her