Please Stay for Me (The Brotherhood Series)

by M. W. McKinley

  We finish the song and say goodbye to the crowd. They seem to be into us, but they could all be high, too. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

  Once we get backstage, everyone’s quiet a moment until Eric breaks the silence. "You realize everything’s about to change? We've never played like that before."

  Lei nods. "There are always music scouts at these things."

  I blow out a breath. "That was brilliant."

  After we walk down the steps, Rob pulls me aside. "Alright? Avery's song felt different tonight."

  I’m still vibrating with energy. “It felt different to me, too. I’m glad it’s out there, you know?”

  He nods. “I know.”

  A flash of red comes from the side as Emily throws herself into Rob’s arms. “You were amazing, love!”

  Rob kisses her roughly as she winds her legs around his waist, and they spin around together.

  I have to look away. For the first time, my chest aches from the sight of them together. To know I have that with someone, but instead, I’m standing alone right now is too much to handle.

  When I pull my phone out of my back pocket, notifications light up the screen. Tweets like # thegirlwhogotaway and # whoisavery are already trending on my page. If that doesn’t get her attention, I don’t know what will.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Liam

  The framed picture steals my attention again. Even though not much scenery made it into the picture, all our faces did. Rob was in charge of holding the phone since he has the longest arms. Avery's head is tucked under my chin, and she wears the smile that reaches her eyes. The wind tangles her and Emily's hair. Strands of brown and red mingle together in the space between them.

  I sigh as I open my laptop and find the saved application page on Juilliard's website. I have everything ready to submit except one last video. They ask for a one-minute introduction. Most of it’s standard like name, major, and current school. Easy enough. But they also ask for one fact I want the faculty to know about me they can’t learn from my application. The prescreening videos where I have to play the violin are much easier than this one question.

  What fact will set me apart from the thousands of other applicants who can probably play the violin better than I can? That I’m adopted? So are lots of people. The fact I started playing the violin when I was nine years old? There are students in my class at Oxford who picked up their first violin before they figured out the whole walking thing.

  My phone screen lights up with a new Instagram notification. I hold my breath hoping it’s Avery. I’m not disappointed. Even though she no longer likes my posts, at least she hasn’t blocked me from seeing hers. I’m glad for even that since it means I get to see a little of her life. There’s a picture of Avery and her grandmother standing next to orange flowers I don’t recognize. There’s a picture of her and Trinity leaning against moving boxes in what I guess is their new apartment in Atlanta. There’s a picture of the "Ai" icon for The Art Institute of Atlanta.

  I know she’s still convinced long distance won’t work, but it’s just not in my nature to give up that easily. And so far, there have been no posts of her and other blokes. I make sure Emily’s the only girl who shows up on my personal social media pages. Our band Facebook page is another story, but hopefully she knows by now our shows are just packed with people. I don't have a real connection with any of them.

  I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. This would be so much easier if she would just talk to me, take my calls or answer my texts. But after the first few went unanswered, Emily urged me to give her space, which is not the same thing as giving up.

  After the front door opens and shuts, the sound of keys skidding across the kitchen counter tells me Eric’s home. He’s the only one who does that no matter how many times Lei tells him it scratches the countertop. "Band meeting!" he calls out.

  I would be more irritated if I was making progress on this application. Instead, I welcome the distraction. Eric probably wants to talk about more studio time. And I really need to talk to them about applying to Juilliard. I want to be completely transparent and not just announce in a few weeks I got in, which is still very unlikely in my mind.

  I shut my laptop and take one more look at the picture on my desk. My parent's advice might be "whatever will be, will be," but there’s still some things in my control when it comes to Avery.

  I join Lei and Rob on the sofa while Eric paces back and forth in front of us vibrating with excitement.

  Rob rubs his temples. "Just get on with it, mate. Your pacing is not helping with my headache."

  I look over at him in concern. "I thought you got some new medicine?" Rob's sleeping issues have gotten so bad after seeing his father, he finally went to see an actual doctor instead of just using over-the-counter melatonin, which obviously hadn’t been working.

  He just shrugs, and his non-answer concerns me even more.

  Eric stops pacing. "Alloy Records called me. One of their scouts saw us at the music festival. They want to meet as soon as possible."

  No one accuses Eric of joking since we know he would never joke about a record label.

  Lei’s the first to speak. "Well, what are we waiting for? Tell them to name a time and place."

  "Didn't they sign Paranoid Crusade recently?" Rob asks.

  We all love that band, and they come out of Marlow, a town not too far from ours. Alloy Records is known for finding small indie bands and giving them the recognition they deserve. It really might be the perfect fit for us. If I wasn't applying to Juilliard.

  "Yes, and they're already on the radio," Eric answers Rob.

  I think about waiting and telling them only if I get into Juilliard, especially when Lei and Rob basically jump off the sofa urging Eric to call the record company that very moment.

  When the room gets quiet, I look up to see them all staring at me. I stand up, too. "I think we should definitely meet with them." But then I hesitate. "I need to tell you all something, though. It probably won't matter because the chance I'll get in is minuscule."

  Rob interrupts me. "You already applied?" He grabs me by the closest shoulder to pull me into a brief hug. "And don't talk like that. They’d be crazy to turn you away, yeah?"

  "What am I missing?" Lei asks.

  Eric on the other hand is staring daggers at me. He may not know exactly what we’re talking about, but he knows it will interfere with his plans for the band.

  Rob says, "Liam's finally applied to Juilliard!" He keeps one arm around my shoulders either because he’s that excited, or he’s already protecting me from Eric.

  "Wow, that's great. Rob's right. They have to take you," Lei agrees.

  I turn to Eric. "And I'm still here for the band. I wouldn't need to be in New York until early January, assuming they accept my application in the first place. And I haven’t hit the submit button yet."

  Eric reacts exactly how I imagined he would. He explodes. "This is complete crap, Liam! I just knew it! You've had your foot half out of this band since the beginning. And now, when we finally have a real chance, you're going to bugger it up for us all. You're out!"

  Rob immediately steps up. "This isn't a dictatorship, Eric! You can't kick anyone out and you know it!"

  Eric looks to Lei. "He's right. That's not how this works."

  Eric throws up his hands. "Why am I the only one who gives a crap about this band? We have a real record label wanting to give us a shot!"

  "They're not the only record label out there," Rob says. "And I bet there's even better record labels in New York."

  My head whips in Rob's direction. "What?"

  "Like I'm going to let you move away and have all the fun."

  "What about Emily?" I can hear the emotion in my voice. The one thing that’s always kept me from applying was leaving everyone I loved behind. Sure, Avery gave me new motivation to apply, but I’d still be alone. The fact Rob just throws that out there without a thought for himself really gets to me.


  "You know how much she loves an adventure," Rob says nonchalantly.

  "So, if I get into Juilliard, you all would just move with me?"

  Lei shrugs. "I never planned on staying in Oxford forever.”

  "You'd have to transfer schools." It's not that I want to dissuade them, but they clearly aren’t thinking through this hypothetical scenario.

  Lei seems unconcerned. "I have brilliant marks."

  That makes me look back at Rob who smiles assuredly. "Good thing this bloke is loaded." He ruffles Lei's hair. "As long as he lets me continue to mooch off him, who cares about University. Besides, Brotherhood is going to make it big, and I'd drop out eventually anyway."

  I give him a disapproving look. "You know you can't rely on that."

  Rob ignores me. "And Emily's definitely going places. I'll just be her trophy husband if the band doesn't work out." He pulls out his phone from his back pocket and puts it on speakerphone.

  As soon as we hear her voice, he says, "Hey, love. We're moving to New York with Liam. Can I drop out of University and be your house husband if the band goes under?"

  There’s a moment of silence before her familiar voice comes on the line. "I'm in the cereal aisle at the market right now. Can we decide on the rest of our lives another time?"

  "Only if you get me some Coco Pops," Rob says.

  Emily laughs. "Isn't grocery shopping the job of a house husband?"

  "Brilliant point. Cereal's on me next time." After hanging up, Rob gives me a satisfied look as if everything’s settled.

  "Well, I'm not ready to move to another country. Our life is here. Our band is here. Our fans are here," Eric says.

  "Fans are everywhere," Rob says. "And our band is wherever we are."

  I cut in before everything gets more out of control. "Let's just put this conversation on hold. Again, it's more likely I'll be staying here. We can see what Alloy has to say and go from there."

  "What's the point?" Eric argues.

  "It never hurts to hear someone out. Maybe it's not what we're looking for anyway," Lei says.

  "Or maybe it's exactly what we're looking for, and Liam's damn violin will ruin everything we've worked for," Eric says.

  "Worked for?" Rob asks. "I didn't join this band to work for anything. I'm here because I love playing, and you’re all brothers to me. When did that change?"

  Eric may say I have my foot half out of the band, but lately he’s had his foot half out of our friendship. It’s becoming clear he just wants to get famous.

  "Whatever. I'm over this right now. I'll call Alloy and set up a meeting." Eric retreats to his room.

  The three of us just look at each other, and I speak first. "Listen, what Eric said about the violin. I don't want you to think it means more to me than this." I point in between the three of us. "You are my brothers. If you want me to stay—"

  "You have to do this," Lei interrupts as Rob nods in agreement. "We are brothers. And as your brothers, we'll push the submit button if you don’t."

  Rob turns me in the direction of my room and playfully pushes my back. "As in, right now."

  "Yeah, yeah." I pretend to complain.

  When I open my laptop back up, the same question is displayed on the screen, mocking me: one fact I want the faculty to know about me they can’t learn from my application. Then, the answer comes so easily I laugh out loud.

  I position my phone so I’m in the frame and hit record. "Hello. My name is Jacob Liam Brooks, but just call me Liam. I'm a first year at Oxford University for violin. The one thing you won't learn from my application is that my family has nothing to do with DNA. My family is a music-store owner who could have called social services on a nine-year-old lad with a black eye, but instead, put a violin in my hands giving me a reason to live. My family are the two people that took in a troubled teenager with more baggage than I was worth and still call me son. And my family are mates that would follow me all the way to New York because they know the violin isn't just what I'm good at but something that flows through my veins like the blood that keeps me alive. It's a pleasure to meet you."

  After I doubled-check my application and all the required attachments, I take a deep breath and click submit.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Avery

  “Do you have any Thanksgiving plans?” Dr. Keita asks politely.

  After two months of therapy, I’ve discovered nothing rattles my therapist. She’s pretty much calm no matter how many stubborn non-answers I give her questions.

  My first therapy session with her was by far the most awkward. She asked the same question I hadn’t been able to answer on the in-take form. What did I hope to achieve with counseling?

  “Well, I lost both my parents,” I mumbled.

  Dr. Keita looked down at the paper on her desk as her brows knitted together. “I see where your mother died four years ago, but your father is still listed as living. Is that incorrect?”

  I shook my head and swallowed back both the anger and sorrow trying to drown me from the inside out. “He’s alive, but I still lost him when I lost my mom.”

  After that first session, we’ve discussed my mom in depth, but any time she shifts the conversation towards Dad, I’m sure it’s like pulling teeth from me.

  Last week, I let her read Dad’s email. She asked me a lot of questions about his behavior immediately after Mom died. I’ll admit it made me consider what he was feeling during that time just as I had on the plane ride back from Oxford. After Mom’s death, I’d only been focusing on my feelings even though I also promised to be there for Dad.

  We also talked about whether his reaction to my leaving was rational. Reactions were based on feelings, not just logic. If I believed feelings could be irrational, which I did based on my own often irrational feelings, then it could be fair to say Dad thought he was doing the right thing. If he truly felt Meme was better for me at the time, then it was easier to understand his reaction to my leaving.

  The sound of Dr. Keita shifting in her chair makes me look up. “Sorry, what?” My arms are wrapped around the throw pillow from her sofa. The pillow has an abstract design using every color of the rainbow and it reminds me of Lei’s mural.

  “Thanksgiving. Any plans?” Her tone is patient even though she obviously had to repeat the question.

  “Just the usual dinner with Meme.” I reach for the water bottle on the table next to me.

  “Have you considered inviting your father?” Her tone is confident, as if it’s a completely reasonable question.

  I take a swig of water to stall answering her question. “Not really.”

  For the past three years, Meme and I created our own Thanksgiving traditions. It’s strange to imagine Dad sitting at the small kitchen table using the dog-shaped salt and pepper shakers and drinking iced tea so sweet it’s sure to cause a diabetic coma afterwards.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” The scratch of her pen on paper is the only sound in the room.

  The change of topic throws me for a moment. “When Meme came and got me.”

  She leans back in her chair a little. “Can you tell me about that day?”

  I’d rather not. But I know her patience will eventually wear me down anyway. “I guess it was about two months after Mom died. Meme showed up out of the blue. She had just visited for the memorial service, so I was surprised to see her again so soon. She asked if Dad was home.”

  I swallow and look down at my hands. “I told her he was probably at the hospital, but I wasn’t sure.” That had been my answer every time she called, too, which probably prompted her visit in the first place.

  “Then what happened?”

  My stomach knots. “They probably thought I was asleep. It was late when he got home that night, but Meme had waited up.” I hadn’t let myself think about that night in a long time. “Dad said . . . he said . . .”

  “Take your time, Avery.”

  I touch my necklace and take in a shallow breath before pu
shing out the words all at once. “He said nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Meme said she was going to take me back with her, and he said nothing.”

  Dr. Keita doesn’t say anything right away, but her expression makes me feel as if she’s not getting it.

  “ You weren’t there.” I push off from the chair and begin pacing around her office. “The next morning, Meme had already put my suitcase in the rental car, and he still hadn’t said a single word to me. He just watched from the front porch of our house. My house. No, my home. The only home I had known, and he said nothing!”

  “Who does that?” I ask, not expecting an answer. “He just stood there, like he didn’t even see me.”

  “Maybe he didn’t,” Dr. Keita says calmly.

  I look at her incredulously. “What?”

  “His email said he was blind and deaf to the rest of the world after your mother died.”

  “What about when he wasn’t?” I lean against the wall and look down at my shoes. “I hate him,” I say quietly.

  “That’s okay.”

  My head snaps up. “That’s okay?” I throw the question out into the room as if it’s a missile.

  She nods patiently. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

  “No, it’s not.” My eyes sting as unwelcome tears try to form.

  She nods again. “Yes, it is, Avery.”

  I turn to look out the closest window as I try to hold in my emotions. “But I don’t want to hate him anymore,” I say softly.

  “Say it again.”

  When I turn to look at her, she’s leaning forward in her chair. Her gaze is intense, as if something happened that I missed.

  “I don’t want to hate him anymore.”

  Her smile is small but encouraging. “Again.”

  I feel a few tears escape the corner of my eyes. “I don’t want to hate him anymore.” My voice cracks on the last syllable, but I try one more time. “I don’t hate him anymore.”