Free LOW: A Rockstar Romance by Vivian Lux

brought them home from a garage sale as a way to annoy my mom.
    "I'm practicing!" I'd shout, banging away like an idiot any time she asked me to do some chores.
    She'd sigh one of her exhausted sighs, and just walk away. Life had already defeated my mom by that point. Long before her idiot teenaged son could attempt to finish the job.
    "I'm going to try out for this band," I said, slapping the flyer down at our kitchen table that night. "They're over in Kenmore. Can you drive me?"
    My mom looked up at me. The bags under her eyes were getting heavier now, puffy and purple, like no amount of sleep would ever make her feel normal again. I heard her crying at night and put on my headphones to drown it out. Looking back, it was so clear the path she was headed down. But I was just a selfish teenager. It never occurred to me back then just how sad she'd become.
    "You know the drill," my mother sighed.
    I smacked my hand on the table. "Aw man, really? I gotta bring her?"
    The incessant basement piano playing stopped and I knew that Pepper was listening. Back then she didn't speak at all. But she always heard everything that was said around her.
    "That's our deal, Lowell. You bring your sister with you. To everything."
    Impotent rage heated my veins. "Why can't I ever do anything by myself? Why do I always have to drag Pepper to everything? She doesn't talk, Mom, do you know how weird that is? Do you know how awkward it is to always have to make excuses for her? 'Oh, here's my sister, she's gonna just sit in the corner and stare at you and not say anything.' Don't you know what that does to me?"
    My mother's eyes snapped and I instantly cut my tirade short, my cheeks burning. My mom didn't say anything. She didn't need to. I felt shitty enough for even saying it.
    "You have to look out for Piper," my mom said sadly, echoing a refrain I'd heard my whole life. "You're the only one she trusts."
    Only the slight tightening around her eyes betrayed how much it cost my mom to admit that her own daughter didn't trust her. And hadn't for years.
    The next night, we rolled up to the garage on Wallace Street. I helped Pepper unload her electronic keyboard and waved to my mom as she pulled away.
    The garage door rolled up and a cloud of cigarette and weed smoke rolled out like a fog. A raspy voice barked out from the interior, "Whaddya want?"
    "I'm, we're, here for the audition."
    "Drummer?"
    I gestured to my sister. "And keyboards."
    "We're not looking for keyboards. This is a rock band, not a fucking jazz trio."
    I looked back at Pepper. She was staring at the ground, two spots of color burning at the tips of her ears. Trying out had been my idea. My plan of escape. Something I could do that was all mine, without the burden of my twin dragging me down. I closed my eyes, picturing the ease of hanging out in this garage, shooting the shit with a bunch of guys my own age, free of the responsibility I'd had my whole life.
    Then I opened my eyes, looked at my sister and let that vision slip away.
    "Well, we're a package deal, so if you want me to play for you, you gotta listen to her too. That's just the way it's gotta be."
    And that was the way it was. I played drums competently and Pep blew them away with her talent and that was that. Ruthless was formed and the rest was history. And I was never alone.
    Whether it was as a twin or now part of the band, I was always a face in a crowd.
    This stupid ad was the first thing I had ever done on my own.
    And I hated how much I liked it.
    Guilt had been my companion for so long it had become comfortable. Like an old drinking buddy. Everyone told me it wasn't my fault what happened to my sister. A parade of therapists all echoed that same tired line. I never believed them. How could I? Hadn't I always been told I was responsible for my sister? Even when we were five?
    But when my mother took those pills and washed them down with a bottle of wine, she took some of that blame away from me and onto herself. I