Erin - Partners in Crime (7)

Erin – Partners in Crime

All day long we work in the fields
Then bring it on home to a home cooked meal
We love you like Sunday, treat you like Saturday night
And when the bed gets full we can sleep in the hay
We’re from the country and we like it that way

Everybody knows everybody, everybody calls you friend
You don’t need an invitation, kick off your shoes come on in
Yeah, we know how to work and we know how to play
We’re from the country and we like it that way

n  Tracy Byrd (I’m From the Country)

The red Ford Escort barely slowed down to go over the speed bumps on the driveway into school.  Erin swung into parking space #131 and came abruptly to a halt.  He yanked on the emergency brake and shut off the engine.  He and Danny climbed out of the car just as an obnoxiously loud bell sounded from the PA system.

“Shit!  Next time I’m driving!”  Danny exclaimed.

“Yeah, maybe when you get that shitty foreign excuse of a car fixed.  How many times has it broken down this year already?”  Both of them reached behind the front seat to grab their backpacks, and then slammed the doors.  They started running towards the main entrance, along with a handful of other stragglers. 

“Not as many as your sorry excuse for something made in the U.S.A.”  Danny countered.

“Whatever man!  I’ll see you after class.  Unless you plan on riding the bus home.”  Erin smirked at Danny. 

As they entered the building, they branched off in separate directions.  Erin headed down the west corridor towards the fine arts pod.  He opened the first door to his right and slinked down the hall, passing a row of small practice rooms.  He hugged the wall and entered the back of a large open classroom with several levels of risers built into the floor on one side.  The rest of the class was already seated in their seats and Mr. Zimmerman was writing on the chalkboard, but paused in mid-sentence with his chalk in the air.

“Mr. Taylor.  So glad you could grace us with your presence today.”

Erin froze in mid-stride and flashed a sheepish grin.  “Sorry sir.  Car trouble.”  He slid over to his seat and sat down.

“Next time tell Mr. Lewis to use his alarm clock.”  There is muffled laughter from several students.  “I was just about to reveal your final project for the semester.”  This statement received audible protestations.  Mr. Zimmerman turned around and faced the class.

“Settle down, please.  You knew this was coming.  We have spent most of our year exploring the music that has influenced the world of pop-culture as you know it.  We’ve looked at classical, rock, rap, blues and country music.  You’ve even experimented with some minor musical creations of your own.  Now it’s your turn to make a musical statement.  With one other person in this class, you will be responsible for making your own musical statement based on the music that has influenced you.”

He walked around his desk and picked up a stack of envelopes.  “I have an envelope for half of you, with your partner’s name on a card inside, along with the guidelines for your project, and the date you will present your statement to the rest of the class.  I will warn you in advance that I will not listen to any complaining.  There are plenty of musical phenomenons that have occurred by sticking two people in a studio and not letting them out until they came up with something creative.”

Erin bravely shouts out from the back of the classroom, “Name two!”

Mr. Zimmerman doesn’t miss a beat.  “I’ll give you three.  One, Sonny and Cher.  Two, Meatloaf and Steinman.  Three, your mom and dad.”  This response results in whistles and claps from several students, and Erin’s face grew warm.

“Okay, do you have any questions?  And the first envelope goes to…Erin Taylor.”  Erin got up and took his envelope from Mr. Zimmerman.  He walked back to his seat, tearing open his envelope.  He sat down and pulled out the index card first.

He read the card.  “Violet Mitchell.  Great.  Like I don’t see enough of her already.”  Once Mr. Z had passed out all of the envelopes, he picked up his backpack and walked over to Violet’s desk.  She was scribbling in her notebook and barely looked up to acknowledge him. 

Erin leaned over her desk and put his elbow on top of her notebook.  “So I guess we’re working together, Partner.”

Violet looked up and smiled.  “Thank goodness!  I was afraid I would have to work with Shawn McKee.  I can’t stand him; he thinks he’s so talented.”  She half-whispered the last part.

“Yeah, that can be really annoying.  Well let’s see what we’re supposed to do.”  He sat down in the empty seat beside her.  He opened the sheet of paper that was in the envelope and started reading the guidelines for the assignment.  He passed the paper to Violet and waited while she read.

She stared up at him.  “Do you have any initial thoughts about this?”

“Not really.  How about you?”

“Maybe we could just do a mash-up of two songs and change up the tempo.  You know, kind of like a re-make.”  She shrugged.

Erin checked the list.  “Sorry.  Rule number five says that it must be 100% original.  This is so pointless.  I was hoping that this would be like a ‘Rock for Jocks’ course so I could take it easy before graduation.  It’s not like we’re going to win a Grammy for this.  Mr. Z just loves to torture us.” 

Mr. Zimmerman was circulating around the classroom and came to stand behind Erin, listening to his rant.  “Oh, if only that were true.”

Erin got that deer in the headlights look, and Mr. Zimmerman came around to face Erin.  “Let me ask you something.  Weren’t you the one who went all the way to St. Louis to audition for Star Search?  It’s much easier to get a contract with your own material than it is if you’re regurgitating someone else’s song.  You will not get a record deal while you are still singing George Strait songs at the local opry.”

Erin turned red in the face but countered.  “That’s real inspirational, Mr. Z.  I thought teachers were supposed to encourage you.  Is this your version of encouragement?”

“Erin, if you play it safe, you don’t risk rejection.  But you can’t reap the rewards of hard work that way either.”  Erin looked like he was hurt, but didn’t say anything.  “That’s what this assignment is about.  Trying something new, taking you out of your comfort zone.  Think outside the box.  If I didn’t think you could do this, I wouldn’t have given you this challenge.” 

Mr. Zimmerman patted Violet on the shoulder but held Erin’s glare.  “If he doesn’t pull his own weight, I want to know about it.  Don’t let him charm you into doing it all by yourself.”

Violet looks up at him.  “Yes sir.”

“Now get to work so I can finish my crossword puzzle.”  Mr. Z walked back to his desk, sat down and picked up his newspaper.  Erin remained quiet. 

Violet picked up her pencil and turned to a blank page in her notebook.  “So what kind of music are you into?  Maybe that will help us get started.”

Erin stayed unresponsive.  He folded his arms across his chest and slid down in his seat, crossing his boots at the ankles.

Violet seemed unaffected by Erin’s stoic mood.  “I’ll go first.  I like Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Van Halen, AC/DC, Janet Jackson, Madonna, They Might Be Giants.”  Violet made a list down the left side of her paper.

“I can tell this is going to be swell.”  Erin managed to spit out under his breath.

Violet tried again.  “I know you’re big into country music.  I just don’t know a whole lot about it.  So who do you listen to?”  She looked up from her list and smiled.  Her smile quickly faded as she finally noticed Erin’s angry expression. 

Erin was seething, and he knew that he needed to get away and blow off some steam.  “I’m sorry, Violet.  I’ve got to get out of here.”  He stood up, picked up his backpack, and headed out the door of the classroom.  Mr. Zimmerman didn’t even look up.

A few days later, Violet needed a ride, so Erin agreed to drop Violet off at community college over his lunch.  They needed to start working on their project, and this would give them the opportunity to talk about it.  He had not turned off the stereo when he arrived at school that morning, so when he turned the key, his cassette resumed playing.  George Strait’s “Heartland” blared from the speakers.  Violet gritted her teeth and sighed audibly.  After an agonizing minute, she reached over and turned down the volume.

“You know the rules.”  Erin glanced at her pointedly.  “Driver picks the tunes.”  He reached over to turn it back up, but Violet swatted his hand away.

“I’m sorry.  I just don’t get it.  Why is this good music?”  She looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

“And I suppose Madonna and Janet Jackson are good music?”

“Well at least most people on this planet have heard of them, including you.  I didn’t know who George Strait was until about five minutes ago.  Well not literally, but do you see my point?”

“Okay.  But you do know who Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton and Elvis Presley are, right?”

Violet nodded.  “Of course I know who they are.  Doesn’t everyone?”

“Well, they are all country music singers.”  Erin replied.

“There is no way Elvis Presley is country.  I grew up listening to Elvis.  My daddy listens to him all the time.  Trust me; I would know if Elvis was country.”  Violet seemed pretty sure of herself for someone who was dead wrong.

“You really are naïve, aren’t you?  Where do you think that twang comes from?”  He couldn’t wait to hear her response.

“Tennessee.”

Erin laughed out loud, and Violet blushed.  “I can see we’re getting nowhere fast.  So what is your idea of good music?  I can hardly wait to hear this; give me your best shot.”  Violet twisted around in her seat and grabbed her backpack.  She pulled on a zipper and fished in one of the pockets.  She turned and popped Erin’s cassette out of the deck and replaced it with her own, cranking up the volume for good measure.  Bon Jovi’s “Born to Be My Baby” screamed out of the speakers.  Violet sang along with the song and shimmied in her seat.

Erin took his hands off of the wheel and put his fingers in his ears, then steered with his elbows.  Violet laughed at him and turned down the volume.  “Just kill me now.  What was that?  My ears are bleeding, I can feel it.”

Violet continued to laugh uncontrollably.  “That… look on…your face…was priceless!”  She managed to gasp.  Then she suddenly pointed and shouted.  “Look out!”

Erin looked up just in time to see a ball bouncing across the street and a black dog in hot pursuit.  He slammed on the brakes and swerved to miss the dog; Violet reached out and braced herself against the dashboard.  Backpacks and stacks of music books fell all over the back seat as the car came to a screeching halt.  The dog, a Labrador, looked up at them and raced back across the street with the ball in his mouth.  Erin and Violet sat there for a minute, visibly shaken by the close encounter.  Erin finally regained his composure and resumed driving.

After a couple of minutes, Erin finally found his voice.  “Boy that was a close call.”

“Real close.”  Violet barely whispered.

“Not to change the subject, but you do realize that we’re going to fail this assignment, don’t you?  We might as well accept defeat now.  I’ll talk to Mr. Z tomorrow.”

Violet pursed her lips and peered at him over her sunglasses.  “Giving up that easily, huh?  Figures.”  She crossed her arms and stared out the passenger window.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Erin queried.

“I think you know what I mean.”  Violet didn’t even look at him. 

“Not really.  You have to admit that this looks hopeless.”

“Well so did your chances with Hannah, but you finally wore her down.”  Violet countered.

Erin clapped a hand to his chest, feigning injury.  “Ouch!  Just crush my ego from the get-go.  That’s always a terrific way to start a relationship.”

Violet laughed out loud.  “What relationship?  We’re being forced to work together.  Last time I checked, you were dating Hannah and I was going to the prom with your best friend.  You do remember Daniel, right?”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about.  Cut me right to the quick!  Go ahead and pour some salt in while you’re at it!”  Erin continued to clutch his chest in mock distress.

Violet rolled her eyes.  “Oh you big baby!  I should have known I wasn’t the only drama queen around here.”  She changed the subject. “Turn left here.  It’s the third building on the left.  You can just drop me off at the curb.”

Erin pulled up to the curb.  “Do you need a ride home?”

“Daniel is picking me up after class.  Thanks for the ride.  And the music lesson.”  Violet climbed out of the car and reached into the backseat for her backpack.  She pulled it out from under the mess that had collapsed on the floorboard.  She tosses the backpack over her left shoulder and crossed in front of the car, stopping on Erin’s side.  She knocked on the window and he rolled it down.  “I know it seems like an impossible task, but I think we can come up with something.  I don’t want to give up so easily, but if you still want to bail, we can talk to Mr. Z tomorrow.  See you later!”

Violet turned and walked up the hill.  Erin watched her, shaking his head a little.  “I just don’t know what Danny sees in her.  What a pain in the ass!”  He ejected Violet’s tape and chucked it into the back seat, putting good ol’ George in before driving away. 

After a long exhausting day at school, Erin was glad to be home and in the sanctity of his own space.  Mr. Zimmerman’s words from earlier that week still stung in his ears and he needed to unwind.  He hung his keys on a hook by the kitchen door and held it open to let out an orange tabby cat.  He grabbed his favorite mug out of the dishwasher and opened the refrigerator door.  He grabbed the 2-liter of Dr. Pepper and left the door open while he poured.  He put the bottle back in the fridge and slammed the door.  He wound around the family room and took the stairs two at a time.  He turned at the end of the hall into his room.

His mattress set lay on the floor with a tangle of sheets and blankets on top.  He dropped his purple backpack next to the bed and went over to turn on the stereo on top of his dresser.  He set his massive drink on the crate next to his bed, snagged the remote control and plopped down on the mattress.  He pulled off his cowboy boots and socks, then untucked his t-shirt.  He pushed the red button on the remote and listens to the Hot Request hour on the best of the country radio stations. 

Erin unzipped his backpack to start his homework, but the sticker-covered notebook he pulled out did not belong to him.  He laid it next to him on the bed and picked up the phone.

Danny answered on the third ring.  “What’s up, loser?”

“Your genius of a girlfriend took the wrong backpack.”  Erin deadpanned.  “How am I supposed to do my homework now?”

Danny laughed.  “You’re planning on doing your homework?  Well I guess there’s a first time for everything.”  He continued to chuckle.   

“Funny.  Now I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Danny settled down.  “I’m going to pick her up from the library in about an hour.  Then we’re going to the diner.  Want to ride along?”

Erin ran his hand through his short brown hair and considered this.  “Not really, but it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.”

“Well I guess that depends on how badly you want to do your homework.  How did you end up with her stuff anyway?”  Danny was curious.

Erin thought about this.  “I don’t know.  Oh, the dog.”

“Huh?  What dog?  Erin, you’re not making any sense.”

“This dog ran out into the road while I was driving your girlfriend to school.  I hit the brakes and everything went flying.  Our backpacks must have gotten mixed up in the mayhem.”  Erin explained.

“You guys okay?  You didn’t hit the dog, did you?”  Danny asked.

“No, we didn’t hit the dog.  Apparently your girlfriend and I have the exact same backpack.  What are the odds?”  Erin paused and then added, “you’ve got a pretty masculine chick there, Danny.” 

Danny bristled a little.  “Now hold on there just a minute.  She likes it because purple is her favorite color, and because it’s not too girly.”

“You mean like the notebook that’s covered in stickers?  That’s not girly?”  Now it was Erin’s turn to laugh.  After dwelling on the tongue-lashing he got from Mr. Zimmerman, it did improve his mood slightly.

He got lost in thought for a moment, but Danny snapped him out of his introspection.  “Wait.  You’ve got Violet’s notebook?  She never goes anywhere without that thing.  What’s she got in there?  Did she say anything about me?”

Erin pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment and scowled at it.  “Oh my God, how old are you?  I didn’t even look at it.”

Danny continued.  “I’ve been dying to get a peek at it for months.  What’s it say, Erin?  You have to look!”

“I’m not going to look in it.  That’s like spying in her mind.  I don’t want to go there, that’s for sure.” 

“How do you know she didn’t write anything about you and what a pain in the neck you are?”  Danny remained relentless.

“Danny, your psychological bullshit is not going to work on me.  I could care less what your smarty pants girlfriend thinks of me.”  Erin sighed.

“Really?  Oh, I see. It’s too much of a risk to your big fat ego.” 

Erin picked up the notebook and considered this.  “All right, I know you’re going to keep badgering me until I look in it.  Hold on a minute.”  He opened the notebook.  It was filled with pages and pages of poetry and doodles in the margins.  He stopped to read one of them. 

“Erin, are you still there?”  He had almost forgotten that Danny was waiting for the verdict.

“Huh?  Oh it’s just a bunch of poems and silly drawings.  There’s nothing here about you that I can see.  Are you satisfied?”  Erin closed the notebook and tossed it back on the bed.

“Just in case you missed something, I’m coming over now.”

“What?  No, Danny!  Danny?  Danny?”  Erin heard a click and knew that he was too late.  He figured it would take about 15 minutes for Danny to speed his way over here.  He hung up the phone and picked up the notebook again.  He sat down on the edge of his bed and slowly turned the pages, reading more closely than he had the first time.  After a few minutes, he got up and picked up his guitar.  He sat back down and laid the notebook next to him.  He began to strum some chords and hum to himself.