Re: Clementine and Cody
“You want to call and response?” Cody asked, eyebrow arched in judgement. Yeah, he was going to be fine. Cute as she was, she could totally go first because he was going to bring the damn house down. “Of course I am,” he said in response, like she should know who he was. Because she should.
Clementine shrugged a little. “Yeah, maybe. Haven’t really decided yet. Maybe just something that people know so they’ll sing along too. I like when everyone’s in it together.” Looking back down at his guitar again, Clementine noted the tone in his voice and wondered if maybe she should know who he was. She didn’t really stay up on the latest music, or she hadn’t before the war and it was even harder to do so now, but he looked pretty familiar. Instead of asking his name, she continued with, “What’re you gonna sing?”
That was the last thing that Cody wanted, unless they were singing along to his music. The goal was to impress, not do some stupid cover that would turn into full bar karaoke. “One of my songs,” he explained. Then when they asked for an encore he’d play three more. Maybe even one of the new ones he’d written since being in rehab.
Clementine watched him again, thinking that that response didn’t really help her place him. She knew there were celebrities here, clients of the rehab center and spa specifically, but really his answer only helped her establish that he was a musician, which she already felt she knew just by the guitar. “Which one?” She ventured, pretty sure this would get her an answer she could use to place him.
“Obsessive,” Cody said, thinking he could do that one without the rest of his band. Fuck, he missed his band. They were part of the reason he was here, but unlike with the dirty looks from management, they’d been genuinely concerned about him. Or their jobs. Either one, they cared that he got better.
Yup, that didn’t really help either. No matter. Clementine nodded like she understood what he was talking about and then reached for her same worn, knitted knapsack and produced a small bag of green herbs and her favorite pink and purple galaxy-style glass pipe. “Wanna hit before you hit the stage?” She asked, a snicker in her tone from the pure dad-joke-ness of her question.
Cody raised a brow at the pipe, always impressed by the hippie types. They loved to share everything. He smiled though and shook his head. “I’m flying high enough already. Maybe after?” Apparently the only thing he’d picked up in rehab was how not to OD again.