Lost and Found Page 2

  She pauses halfway out the door.

  “Gemma Kincaid,” she says. Then she points to the buzzer. “It’s on the buzzer and everything.”

  “Gemma Kincaid,” I repeat, letting the name roll around in my mouth a little bit. Then, something clicks.

  “Kincaid?” I say. “Like, Kincaid’s the bar?”

  “Yep,” she says, with a tired voice that implies she gets asked this a lot. She’s half-in, half-out the vestibule door now. She holds it open with her booted foot, kicking it a little so it bounces off her toe each time it tries to close automatically.

  “Huh, what an odd coincidence,” I say. “It just so happens my band will be playing there on Tuesday night.”

  “Cool,” she says. But she says it in a way that implies she doesn’t think this is cool or impressive at all. I’m a little hurt.

  “You should come,” I tell her. “We’re pretty good.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  I shift the pizza in my arms and give her one of my better smiles. “You don’t sound like you believe me, but I promise I’m telling the truth. Like I said, I’m honest to a fault.”

  “I guess we’ll find out on Tuesday,” she says, smirking. Then she pulls her foot away from the door and slips into the vestibule.

  “Does that mean you’re coming?” I call after her, but she ignores me as she heads out the front door and down the steps.

  “Just met one of our new neighbors,” I tell the guys as I drop the box of pizza on the table in front of them. “Dibs.”

  “That’s not fair,” Lucas complains. “You can’t call dibs before we’ve all seen her.”

  “Don’t care, I’m calling it. Dibs.”

  “Pizza’s cold,” Max says, pulling two slices onto a paper plate. He doesn’t argue with the dibs rule, because he doesn’t get to play. He’s been dating Sophie since sophomore year of college. We gave him a hard time for a while, saying she was going to be our Yoko Ono, but we’ve come around. If anyone is going to be our Yoko, it might as well be Sophie.

  “I think she’s going to come on Tuesday,” I tell them. “You guys finish the set list? I have a good feeling about this show.” I slap the table and grab for a slice of pizza.

  “Yeah, now that you’re guaranteed to get laid after, sure you are.” Lucas scoffs.

  “It’s not a guarantee,” I tell him. “But I’m hopeful.”

  Lucas makes a disbelieving face at me. He has a point. Usually once I set my sights on a girl it’s a done deal. I’m just good like that.

  “I’d watch out for that, man,” Max says. “She’s your neighbor now. Don’t shit where you eat.”

  “Can we not talk about shitting while I’m eating?” Lucas mumbles through a mouth full of pizza.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe she’s chill. Maybe we could get a nice casual ‘your place or mine?’ situation happening.”

  “Great,” Lucas says, drawing the word out sarcastically. “It’s been so nice and quiet around here lately, too.”

  “Hey man, this has been a tough time for me,” I say, putting a hand to my chest as if I’m in physical pain.

  I’ve had a bit of a dry spell the last month or so. Max has had us busy playing shows, and there’s been plenty of girls around, but none of them excited me. Mentally, physically, spiritually, whatever. Nothing. It’s weird, because for the most part I’m not particularly choosy. I love women. I love them in all shapes and sizes and colors. And women love me. Again, not to be conceited, just another of God’s honest truths.

  But there has to be a spark there. Something for me to set the fire with, something to burn. But lately? Nothing. I’ve been starting to feel a little desperate. Until tonight anyway. There was a definite spark with Gemma Kincaid, and I’ll be damned if I don’t light that fire.

  Chapter Three

  Gemma

  Moving sucks. I guess I knew it sucked. No one ever talks about what a fun time they had moving, but I’d never actually done it before today. Now I can definitively say moving sucks.

  It feels kind of nice to be able to say that.

  My body, however, does not feel nice. I’m bone-tired and smelly and all I want is to shower and go to bed, but when my phone rings and I see Liam’s name on the screen I know I have to answer.

  “The move went okay?” Liam asks.

  “Yeah, everything went fine. We’re still unpacking, but everything is in.”

  “Good. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help you guys. I’ll swing by and see the place this week, though.”

  I hold my cellphone between my shoulder and ear as I pick a piece of lint off the throw blanket on our new couch. “It’s fine, don’t even worry about it.”

  “You had the landlord change the locks, right? And you tested the smoke detectors?”

  “Yes, Liam.” I roll my eyes.

  This is what Liam does. He worries. About everything. He tries to give the impression he’s a relaxed kind of guy, but he’s not fooling anyone. Especially not me. And I understand that he means well, but sometimes it’s a lot to handle. We didn’t test the smoke detectors, even though he reminded me to about a million times before we moved in and texted me twice earlier about them. I accidentally set the toaster on fire one time and I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “Okay,” Liam says, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me but he’s biting his tongue, which I appreciate. “I’ve got to run, but call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “I will,” I assure him.

  “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” We hang up and I put my phone on the new-to-us coffee table.

  Procuring furniture for this place has been the hardest part of moving. We both refused to have a used sofa in our apartment, so we’d had to splurge a little and buy that new. Still, this sofa isn’t fancy by any means. It was the cheapest one we could both agree on. The coffee table is one we found on the side of the road on trash day a few months ago. That’s how we found a lot of stuff, actually. By trolling the curbs.

  Amanda and I would borrow Liam’s pickup truck and go driving and see what we would find. We snagged a couple dressers, the coffee table, and a giant map of the United States, all out of other people’s garbage. Not sure what the plan for the map is, yet. We’ll probably hang it over the couch.

  As I look around the half-unpacked apartment I think, not for the first time today, how lucky we are to have found this place. My best friend Amanda and I looked at what felt like a million places. They were all either way, way outside our price range or really, really terrible. When we saw this apartment, it felt too good to be true. It’s still a tiny bit outside our price range, but for the space we’re getting a great deal.

  The apartment is in an older three-unit house. Two bedrooms, a decent sized bathroom, and a kitchen that’s open to the living room with enough space for a small dining table in between. And unlike a lot of the apartments we looked at, this place has gleaming hardwood floors instead of smelly shag carpet. The walls are all painted a nice neutral cream color and the trim is all original wood. The kitchen isn’t the most up to date, but it’s also far from the worst one we saw. And it’s all mine. Well, mine and Amanda’s.

  “Was that Liam?” Amanda asks, coming out of her bedroom. Her naturally curly hair is disheveled, and she looks as tired as I feel, despite the fact I did twice as much work today. “Let me guess, he wants you to move back in with him because we haven’t tested the smoke detectors?”

  “No, because I lied and told him we did,” I tell her.

  She lets out a low whistle as she flops down next to me on the couch.

  “You’re gonna be in trouble,” she says. “You know he’ll find out. He’ll come over here, and he’ll test them all, and one of the bastards won’t work and we’ll get hell for it.”

  “It’s for his own good,” I say. “He’s got to stop being so paranoid.”

  “I’m still shocked he let you move at all, to be honest.”

&nb
sp; “Yeah,” I sigh. “Me, too.”

  The last few years have been tumultuous for me, to put it lightly. Liam thinks the last thing I need right now is to be living on my own for the first time, but he’s wrong. A fresh start is exactly what I need. I took some time off from college last year, so while all my friends graduated last spring I didn’t. I’m in my final semester now and ready to be done with school and get on with my life. Moving in with Amanda was a big part of that.

  Amanda and I have been best friends our entire lives, she’s practically a sister to me. When the opportunity for us to have our own place and move in together like we’ve been dreaming about since we were kids popped up, I wasn’t going to miss out. Liam be damned. He took it pretty well, all things considered. Would he prefer I was living with him? Yes, definitely. But Liam’s starting his own new life chapter, and while I’m happy for him, I need to figure myself out right now rather than let him call all the shots.

  “I’m exhausted, I’m going to head to bed,” Amanda says, stifling a yawn. “See you in the morning?”

  “Yeah, see you in the morning.”

  Amanda heads into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. I stand up from the couch and cringe at the knot that’s formed in my back. The couch isn’t very comfortable. Somehow it is both too squashy and too firm all at once. Hopefully it will get better with use.

  I’m about to head into my own room when I hear something outside. The windows are all closed, so it’s muffled, but it sounds like music coming from somewhere. Someone strumming a guitar.

  The windows in the apartment are tall and come almost down to the floor. The ones in the living room open on to a small, rickety looking side porch. Amanda wants to get a little bistro set to put on it in the spring, but I’m not entirely sure it’s big or sturdy enough.

  I slide one of the windows up a few inches and a gust of cold January air blows inside. The music is louder, and I realize it’s coming from the porch below ours. Someone is playing the guitar.

  My first thought is this person must be insane, because it’s like thirty degrees out, but then my second thought is this person is a pretty good guitar player. I shove the window open more, as quietly as I can, so I don’t alert my new neighbor that I’m trying to spy on them. It’s hard to get a good angle to see whoever it is without dangling over the porch railing, and if I do that, they’ll definitely see me.

  Instead I squint through the cracks between the boards that make up the deck and see the guy from earlier. The one who I wouldn’t open the door for. Spencer Hurley.

  His name was on the buzzer, I’d checked.

  He’s leaning back against the building with his long legs propped up against the porch railing. His height startled me earlier and I can’t stop gawking at it now. It’s not even that he’s abnormally tall, but something about him gives the impression that he is. His arms are long, his legs are long, even his floppy dark hair is a little too long.

  There’s something about this guy that scares me a little, but not necessarily in a bad way. Maybe it’s the unique gray color of his eyes, and the way he couldn’t seem to take them off me in the hallway earlier. Or the dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled at me.

  Or maybe, it’s the way he’s playing the guitar right now, and the fact that I can’t look away.

  He’s strumming aimlessly, it’s not a song I recognize, but it sounds like something I would like. He starts to sing, almost under his breath. His voice is somehow both sweet and a little rough. Melancholic but hopeful. I’m mesmerized.

  The cold eventually sends me back inside. Spencer is still out there, though, playing his guitar.

  Chapter Four

  Gemma

  Tuesday nights I work at the bar. It’s usually pretty slow, but ever since we started doing open mic night it’s picked up a little. And even if it is slow, at least there’s live music. It’s not always good live music, but it’s a distraction, at least. On this particular Tuesday I get down there early, knowing Spencer’s band is playing. After hearing him play on the porch the other night, I’m curious if they’re any good. He said they were, but they all say that.

  I’m re-stocking the bar when Liam walks in with Macy.

  “Hey Gem,” he greets me, kissing the side of my head. “You’re here early.”

  “Didn’t have much going on tonight so I figured I’d head down,” I tell him, as I give Macy a hug. Or try to, anyway. She’s very pregnant but insists on continuing to pick up shifts at the bar, even though we’ve all tried to talk her out of it. We compromised by giving her the slower nights and making sure she isn’t spending too much time on her feet.

  “How’s the beginning of the semester treating you?” she asks me now.

  “Good, I guess,” I tell her with a shrug. “Same as every other semester.”

  “Let me know if you get too busy with schoolwork and need me to pick up any extra shifts,” she says.

  “Yeah, right, I’ll definitely do that,” I say, rolling my eyes at her.

  She laughs and swats at my arm.

  Open mic starts at 8:00, so there’s a few hours before the bands show up. The after work crowd starts trickling in, and things are steady enough that tending bar doesn’t feel like torture. Close to 8:00, Amanda comes in and pulls up a stool.

  “Hey!” she greets me. “I’m here!”

  “Hey,” I say back. “You drinking tonight?”

  “Ugh, yes,” she groans. “Awful day at work. I need a drink, pronto.”

  Amanda has a very, very entry level job at a marketing agency. We both majored in marketing, and in our ideal scenario I also get a job at her agency after I graduate. She doesn’t seem very happy there, though. From what she tells me, it sounds like a lot of mindless, tedious busywork. I guess everyone has to start somewhere though.

  “Coming right up.” I start pouring her a vodka soda with a splash of cranberry, your standard basic bitch cocktail. I know how to make all kinds of drinks and yet I haven’t been able to convince Amanda to drink anything but this. If she’s feeling really daring, she might have a Bud Light, but that’s about as exciting as she gets. I pour myself a tiny shot of bourbon, figuring why the hell not.

  “To Tuesdays being the most sucktastic day of the week!” Amanda cries, lifting her glass to mine.

  “To Tuesdays!” I cheer and knock back the shot. When I look up Spencer is there, across the room, looking right at me. He has a bemused smile on his face. I smile back and drop my shot glass into the bus bucket under the bar.

  “Hey, it’s our new neighbor,” I say to Amanda. “He’s in the band playing tonight.”

  “Where?” she asks, spinning around on her stool.

  “Shhh!” I say, whacking her arm. “Don’t be so obvious. He’s over there.” I casually jut my chin in Spencer’s direction. I’d told her about my run-in with him in the downstairs hallway. So far he’s the only neighbor either one of us has seen in the two days we’ve lived there.

  “Which one?” she asks, now looking over her shoulder more discreetly.

  “The tall one.”

  “With the messy hair? He’s kind of cute. Which apartment does he live in?” Amanda says.

  “Second floor. He was out playing guitar on the porch the other night. He’s pretty good.”

  “He better be, or I’m leaving.” Amanda sucks at her drink. “After the shit show that was last week’s musical number I can’t take another disappointment.”

  “Oh shit,” I mutter, looking down and scrubbing at a non-existent spot on the bar. “He’s coming over here.”

  Spencer shoves his hands in his pockets as he ambles towards the bar like he has all the time in the world.

  “So you work here,” he says when he reaches me. “You could have mentioned that. I’ve been sweating for days wondering if you were going to show up.”

  “Surprise,” I tell him. “I’m here.”

  “Did they hire you because of your name, or is that just a lucky coincidence?�
� He pulls his hands out of his pockets and leans his forearms on the bar next to where Amanda is sitting. She sips at her drink and looks at Spencer.

  “My family owns the place,” I say. I place the heels of my hands on the edge of the cooler in front of me and lean forward.

  Spencer’s eyes flick quickly down to my chest and back up again.

  Amanda swivels her head from Spencer over to me.

  “Oh is that so?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Does that mean you’re the one we have to impress if we want to keep playing here?”

  Amanda’s eyes fling back towards Spencer.

  “It wouldn’t hurt,” I tell him.

  Amanda turns, looking at me again.

  “Hey.” Liam appears beside me from out of nowhere. “What’s happening over here?”

  I stand up straight and take a step back from the bar. “This is Spencer, he’s in one of the bands playing tonight,” I say to Liam.

  “I go by Spence, actually,” Spence says and sticks out his hand towards Liam. “I’m here with Losing Streak.”

  Liam returns the handshake and looks Spence up and down.

  “Nice to meet you,” he says, but doesn’t introduce himself. He looks down at his watch. “You’re on in five.”

  “Cool,” Spence pushes off the bar so he’s standing up straight. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “You good, Gemma?” Liam asks me.

  “All good,” I assure him.

  Liam nods and walks away.

  “Boyfriend?” Spence asks, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

  I shake my head. “Brother. And boss.”

  “Ah,” Spence nods slowly. “The one I really have to impress, then?”

  “Afraid so.”

  He grins, and his whole face changes. He has dimples. Two perfect dimples. His clear gray eyes sparkle mischievously. “Guess I’d better get to work, then.” He turns and walks back towards the rest of the band, giving me one last look over his shoulder as he crosses the room.

  “What. The. Hell. Just. Happened,” Amanda says, slamming her now empty drink on the bar.