Better Than Perfect by Melissa Kantor Page B

door slamming shut decided him. He glanced at my license plate, jotted something down on the piece of paper on his clipboard, tore it off, and handed it to me.
    â€œPlace this prominently on your dashboard.”
    I took the paper from him and nodded.
    He glared at us. “And don’t let me catch any of you wandering around the grounds, or I’ll throw the whole bunch of you out. This is a private club, and you’re here to perform, not enjoy yourselves.” With that, he turned and marched across the lot calling, “Hey! Hey!” to the guy who’d just parked and was heading toward the kitchen carrying a large green box.
    â€œCare to tell us what this is all about?” asked the driver, turning to Declan.
    â€œNothing,” said Declan. “It’s fine.”
    â€œIt’s fine ?” repeated the driver, sounding as sarcastic as the egg man.
    â€œOh, Sean, don’t be an arse,” said the girl. She came over to me. Fine boned and pale, she was even prettier up close. She might have been the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in real life. “I’m Sinead. This is my cousin Sean. And this is my little brother, Danny.” She pointed at the boy next to her, and he gave me a shy wave. I gave him a wave back. “And I guess you already know my brother Declan.”
    â€œHi,” I said. “I’m Juliet.”
    â€œHi,” said Declan. “Again.”
    â€œThanks,” I said. “Again.” I gave him a nervous smile.
    â€œNo problem,” he said, and his face stayed serious.
    â€œWell, this is just fucking great,” said Sean, slapping his thigh in frustration. “What are we supposed to do with her?”
    â€œI really appreciate your helping me with that guy,” I said. “But I won’t bother you anymore. Seriously.” I backed away from the van. “See? You won’t have to deal with me for the rest of the night. I’m outta here.”
    But as I turned to go, Sean called out, “Oh no you don’t!” His voice was authoritative. I turned back around. “If Mr. Stick Up the Ass finds you on the grounds, he’s going to toss all of us out,” Sean reminded me. “And I for one don’t want to lose a gig I worked very hard to get.”
    Sinead snorted.
    â€œThat’s enough out of you, missy,” said Sean to Sinead.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said. I said it to Sean, but I meant it for all of them. “I really don’t know how I ended up being your problem. I’m just waiting for my friend to finish working.” I could hear my voice shaking slightly, but I hoped anyone who didn’t know me pretty well wouldn’t notice.
    I saw Sinead and Declan exchange a look, and then she said, “Are you kidding? You know what a relief it is to get a break from all this testosterone? Not that you have that much, Sean,” she added quickly.
    â€œI’m surrounded by comedians,” said Sean, walking around the van. From the far side of it, he yelled, “All right, then, you’re going to be pulling your weight if you’re sticking with us, Jules .” He hit the nickname hard, like he knew nobody called me that and he was daring me to tell him not to.
    I didn’t give him the satisfaction of correcting him; I just let Sinead guide me around the van, where I stood with her while Sean kept calling me Jules as he loaded me up with cords and told me to follow Danny up the hill to the stage.
    By the time we’d set up all the equipment, I was dripping sweat and my arms and legs ached. I couldn’t believe how much work it was to set up for a concert. We’d dragged mics and mic stands and amps and guitars and a drum set up the hill from the parking lot for what felt like hours. But when Ichecked my phone, it was only eight fifteen. Everyone in the band was calling me Jules, and the unfamiliar nickname only intensified the sense that I was