Songs to Get Over You (Playlist #2) Read online

  Playlist #2:

  Songs to Get Over You

  Jay E. Tria

  Copyright

  Songs to Get Over You

  Jay E. Tria

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any semblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Jay E. Tria

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contact the author: www.jayetria.com, [email protected]

  Cover design by Tania Arpa. Photography by Mark Christopher Bayot, featuring Gerald Damasco.

  Other books by Jay:

  Playlist #1: Songs of Our Breakup | Blossom Among Flowers | Majesty | That Thing Called Closure

  To Hazel, for the love and the extra challenge.

  To M, for Stars.

  Contents

  September 7, Monday, night

  May 29, Friday, night

  September 8, Tuesday, midnight

  Better Idea

  June 13, Monday, four years ago

  September 9, Wednesday, night, Strike 11 Radio Interview Transcript

  Dance, Dance

  September 10, Thursday, midnight

  November 10, Friday, three years ago

  To the Moon

  September 10, Thursday, morning

  June 19, Thursday, morning, one year ago

  September 11, Friday, morning

  September 26, Saturday, afternoon

  September 26, Saturday, night

  Take Me

  October 8, Thursday, morning

  October 10, Saturday, afternoon

  October 11, Sunday, night

  October 12, Monday, morning

  October 16, Friday, morning

  October 16, Friday, night

  October 17, Saturday, morning

  Song to Get Over You

  October 22, Thursday, night

  October 23, Friday, night

  October 31, Saturday, afternoon

  Drunk in Love

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  September 7, Monday, night

  There she was, looking up at the dark velvet sky, her intent gaze demanding for stars.

  I knew it, thought Miki. His steps were light and even, sneaker soles crunching a soft rhythm on the gravel floor of the parking lot. But even from this distance, he saw Jill close her eyes, her slim back balanced on the hood of her lime green Beetle. He knew she heard him approach.

  Miki trod past two more rows of old sedans, new SUVs, and a guitarist or two from a band he knew until he reached her. He slid on top of the hood next to her, nudging her elbow. The solo act before them had just started his set. He was in no hurry.

  “How long have you been out here?” he spoke to her ear.

  Jill kept her eyes shut. Miki could count the whispers of her lashes. “Over an hour. Maybe two.”

  “Counting stars?”

  “Waiting for the star I own to fall so I can catch it.”

  “Ech.” Miki groaned, pulling a face.

  “Too cheesy?”

  He nodded. “Even for you.”

  Jill laughed, a soft giggle she released with the back of her hand against her lips. She turned to him, dark eyes bright and dancing. Miki’s breath locked in his throat. He hadn’t seen Jill like this before. Not when she was with Kim. Well, she had been happy then too for the most part. But Jill’s happiness now looked unique to Miki.

  She still enjoyed her long stretches of silence, still found ways to escape Miki’s company to carve out the hours she would spend alone. Maybe with a book, or with Julia, her seafoam green Les Paul guitar. Mostly while lying with her back flat on the hood of her car, counting distant spotlights in the sky. These were habits she had picked up since her breakup with Kim.

  During her breakup probation period, Miki remembered.

  But she had lost the dark shadows under her eyes, and the distant look of her gaze. The tips of her fingers had lost their cold touch, along with other traces of sadness. It had been three months, and Jill’s glow had not waned.

  It was easy to return her bright smile, even as a vivid image of the source of her joy flashed in Miki’s mind.

  “Did Shinta say when he’s finally flying in?” Even in Miki’s grudging thoughts, Shinta was still too handsome for his self-esteem.

  That’s when Jill frowned. She closed her eyes again, one arm draped across her forehead. “I don’t know. Ask him. Lousy jerk.”

  Miki smirked, nudging her with his elbow. “I thought he was done with his press junkets? And that shoot for that commercial for…what was that again?”

  “Underwear.”

  Of course.

  They sighed as one, and Miki thought, for the same reason.

  Jill opened her eyes to glare at the empty sky. “And a more PG one for canned juice, then there was one for chewable vitamin C. Then he had a couple of photo shoots for magazine covers. And about a bazillion interviews.”

  Shinta had left for Japan three months ago to shoot a new movie, taking Jill with him. The band was in Singapore at the time for a music festival. Jill was supposed to see Shinta off at the airport and fly back to Manila with them the next day.

  Miki remembered the call he got that night. He remembered being silent for one whole minute after Jill told him the flight plan and asked if he could pretty please send Julia and her luggage to this address in Roponggi Hills. Jill had to drop the call before he could reply because she was boarding the plane.

  She came back after a week with this supernatural glow.

  But now Shinta was making her wait. He was supposed to fly right back into her arms after shooting a movie for two months, but other commitments cropped up, one after another. And now he was one month late.

  These actor problems.

  “This is what you get for falling for a movie star,” Miki lectured. “Why can’t you be happy with a common man?”

  She snorted out a short laugh. “Is that it? You think I brought this upon myself?”

  “Yeah, you believe in your romantic comedies too much. You like it when the girl gets the impossible guy.”

  “Isn’t it the guy who got the impossible girl in this romantic comedy?” She cocked one eyebrow, lifting her chin in a haughty smile. But she was biting down laughter, unable to contain even the slightest self-compliment.

  Yes, I know you’re gorgeous, Miki almost said out loud. Even though you don’t like to think it. “The movie star gets the impossible girl, apparently. In this world that I live in.”

  She was laughing now. Jill punched his shoulder and hopped off her car, stumbling when her feet hit the gravel. “Come on.” She straightened up, dusted off her jeans, and led the way to the bar. “We’re late. Kim the Dictator doesn’t like it when his band isn’t complete at least ten minutes before the set.”

  “So that’s all Kim is to you now? The demotion would hurt him, you know. After all you’ve been through.”

  “Shut up, Mikhail.”

  “I mean, seven years!”

  “Hating you right about now.”

  She stomped past him, her long strides easily covering the rows of cars in the parking lot. Miki had to jog to keep up.

  “Hey, Jillian Marie,” he huffed when he caught up to her.

  “What?”

  Miki smiled, their eyes level, walking at pace with her now. “I like it when you’re happy.”

  She gave the in
side of his arm a long pinch before she grinned back. “I like it too. Very much.”

  “Try to keep the sap to yourself though,” Miki went on, rubbing his arm. “The dictator doesn’t like cheesy songs.”

  Jill rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

  Together they crunched through a few more meters of stone and soil. Makati was usually wet and humid from sudden blasts of rain that time of year, same as the rest of Metro Manila. But that night, the monsoon clouds were absent in the blank sky, missing—like the stars. So they were left with the standard, unforgiving heat.

  Miki wiped the sweat off his upper lip with his thumb as he walked, and soon the racket of Commute Bar’s patrons welcomed them. He pulled open the braided metal gate and Jill rushed past him, giving quick nods and shy smiles to the crowd, thrilled to see the indie rock goddess in their midst. Miki intercepted a few air kisses, pushing Jill’s back to move her faster through the horde. With his free arm, he reached past her and wrenched the door open, ushering her through.

  Jill’s face collided right smack on Nino’s broad chest.

  “Late!” he hollered, hands on his hips.

  “Oomph! What the hell, Nino?” Jill shoved Nino away, shooting Son an evil glare before he even spoke.

  “Ooh someone’s in a mood tonight,” Son teased, his bass guitar dangling from his neck. He held both hands up as Jill stomped past him.

  “I thought you were no longer heartbroken?” Nino grumbled, taking his seat behind the drum set.

  “She couldn’t find her star,” Miki said when Nino turned to him for answers.

  “Ahhhhhhh,” Son and Nino chorused, bobbing their heads in unison.

  Miki thought he heard a long buzz of choice curse words sputter from Jill’s mouth. But she was standing with her back to him, adjusting her pedals, so he couldn’t be sure.

  Somebody had turned on the lights. Flashes of blue, green, and red waltzed across Jill’s face when she stood up and turned to face the room. The crowd had risen from their small circular tables and rickety wood-and-iron stools, Nino’s practice swings and the sound of feedback luring them to the stage.

  Kim had been focused on tuning Julia. Now he pivoted to face them, both hands holding out the vintage seafoam green Les Paul electric guitar to Jill.

  “Hey, thanks,” Jill began, reaching for it. “I meant to do that…”

  Kim gave her a small smile and a tiny shake of his head. “Happy to do it. Ready?”

  Jill swung Julia’s strap over her head. “Yep.”

  Kim turned to all of them once with a nod. Then he spun right back, mouth on his mic, one hand high in the air for Nino, their official beat master, to see. “Let’s go!”

  Miki bumped his shoulder against Jill’s, the pair of them exchanging grins as Nino struck his drumsticks together.

  “Ahonetwothreefour!”

  ***

  They were on song three when he walked in.

  Kim usually spotted him first. He had developed a sort of zoning instinct for Shinta over the years. He knew when Shinta walked into a room, and even swore he could smell him when he sat too close to Jill. But Kim was busy with his turn on the mic, singing out the words Jill had written for their new album. And he was busy with the mob that was pressing against him, the small army of foot-size speakers on the floor his only line of defense.

  So Miki, strumming his guitar in the safe pocket of space between Son, Jill, and drum set, saw him first.

  The door was pulled open and there Shinta stood in his off-duty clothes. A white shirt bearing some slogan in Japanese. Dark jeans, backpack, and striped sneakers. It was a good disguise, if only he could cover up his face too. A handful of girls already stopped dancing when they saw him standing there.

  “It’s a starless, long quiet/ But I just can’t catch sleep/ I’m wide awake and I wait/ My soul knows you’re worth it.”

  Jill’s voice reverberating from the speakers jerked Miki from his fixation. Somebody had turned on a new light and it danced on her face. Warm yellow twirling with the blue, green, and red beams flashing on her skin. Her mouth was caressing the mic, beads of sweat dotting the length of her neck and the strip of abdomen revealed by the shirt knotted around her waist.

  Miki swallowed a groan. When the hell did that happen and whose bright idea was that knotted shirt thing?

  Jill swung Julia behind her, leaving the guitar duties to Miki and Kim. Both her palms now pressed on the mic as she launched into the song’s last verse.

  “When the light comes I know for sure/ You’ll be here and I’m no longer alone/The dark will warm, and I know/You’ll never leave me all alone.”

  Miki felt murmurs surf through the crowd and realized a moment too late that Shinta had reached the stage. He took Jill by the exposed band of skin on her waist and kissed her as the last word of the song left her lips.

  Nino was finished with his last beat, but he was on his feet, pounding on his drums, as Son let out a long whistle. The thumps hammered inside Miki’s ears as he stood rooted to the floor, in full majestic view of Jill kissing Shinta back, her fingers knotted through his hair. He let out a low groan on his mic, but the sound was drowned by the calls and hooting from the crowd.

  After what seemed like a dark, spiraling eternity, Shinta pulled back. Miki felt heat return to his fingers. He turned to Kim. He obviously saw Shinta now, if the way he was staring at him was any indication.

  “I’ve always wanted to do that,” Miki heard Shinta say.

  “Hem, hem,” Miki said into his mic, averting his gaze from the guy who was living the dream.

  ***

  Jill and Shinta left soon after Trainman’s set. Shinta allowed himself to be teased, pinched, hugged, and harassed by Son and Nino, his ardent fans. Then he took Jill by the hand and led her away from the heat and racket of Commute Bar.

  Shinta’s arm was around her waist, her hand inside the back pocket of his jeans. Miki watched them walk toward the parking lot, his seat on the curb hidden from view by patrons spilling out into the streets. From where he was, Jill didn’t look too annoyed with Shinta anymore, a month’s worth of tardiness be damned.

  “I thought the Japanese don’t like public displays of affection,” Miki said to Kim who was seated beside him.

  Kim took a long gulp of beer before he answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He kept his gaze on the low brick building in front of him.

  “Well he’s not really in Japan, is he? I guess the rules are bound by geography.”

  Miki thought he understood why someone wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off Jill. “Or he’s just horny.”

  Kim burst out laughing. “Aren’t we all?” He threw a suspicious look at the bottle in Miki’s hand. “How many have you had tonight? That comment is way out of line for you, boy.”

  Miki shrugged and downed the contents before the bottle was taken from him. Some conversations required alcohol. “Remember that time you punched a guy in the crowd because he was staring at Jill?”

  Kim scowled. “Staring at her while he had his hand inside his pants.”

  “You jumped off the stage and punched him.” Miki continued the drive along memory lane. “Jill had to pull you off the poor dude because Son and I didn’t move fast enough.”

  “Then she threw her own punch and broke his nose.” They chorused, laughing as one. Kim met Miki’s empty bottle with his for a toast.

  Miki’s gaze returned to the street. If he squinted really hard, he could see Jill’s lime green Beetle driving off into the dark, humid night. Or maybe he was imagining it.

  “You’re really okay with this?” Miki waved his hand in the air, in the direction of the empty, Beetle-less street, sure that Kim knew what he meant.

  “I should be,” was Kim’s quick reply. “This is actually my doing, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah it is.” Miki couldn’t hide the accusing tone in his voice.

  Miki was used to seeing Kim and Jill together. He had met them as a couple, a two-i
n-one deal. Kim had stood outside their Economics 100 classroom on the very first day of freshman year, the rock god with his battered guitar case, day-old hair, and ripped skinny jeans, marking his territory even before Miki had realized he was nursing a fast crush. It was a bitter pill that was easier to swallow.

  Shinta and Jill as a couple was a different monster altogether. Writhing and coiling deep inside his intestines, glowing in its beauty, the two-headed creature lost in their long entwined fingers and mouths moving as one.

  It’s not that Kim isn’t a good looking man, flashed the loyal thought in his head. But Kim was the boy-next-door, the common-man-type of good-looking. And it was good to see a commoner snatch a win and claim the princess.

  It gave Miki hope.

  He turned to his friend. Kim wasn’t at his charming peak now though. His sunken cheeks gave him a hollow, starved look, and the dark shadows under his eyes did not help. He had lost some weight in the past few months, and Miki attributed that to the days he spent with his mother as she underwent chemotherapy, and the long nights he spent with the band as Trainman promoted their new album. He wondered if Kim still knew the happy state known as sleep.

  Seeing Jill with Shinta was likely not doing any favors for Kim’s current well-being. Miki knew it was not helping his.

  “You know, I always thought I was going to lose her to you.” Kim shot Miki a look, a corner of his mouth turning up. “Like the best-friend-to-lover stories in the romantic comedies she likes.”

  Miki choked on the last gulp of his beer. He wiped his mouth and forced himself to cough out words. “Not true. You were always crazy jealous about Shinta.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t be?” Kim threw his hands up in the air. “I mean look at him. He’s trouble waiting to happen. Only he’s the nicest guy. It’s hard to stay angry at him.”

  “True. Really nice guy.” Miki bobbed his head.

  “Anyway, don’t worry about me,” Kim continued. “I still think it was a good idea. Breaking up with her.”

  “I’m not worried about you. I think you let it drag on longer than you should have.”