Reckless Reunion (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “No way,” I say. “We’re going to Bumbershoot!” Everyone shares disbelieving glances and then cheers. I realize what I did and hold up my hand. “Hang on. I’m sorry. I mean, we are. My band.”

  “Fuck all of you,” Drew says, flipping us the bird as he gets back in his bunk.

  “He’s just kidding, you know,” Carrie says. “He’s happy for you.”

  “No I’m not!” he yells. “Not at two in the fucking morning or whatever time it is.”

  “For real, Reece?” Darren asks.

  I hold up my phone. “I just got off a call with Ronni.”

  “What’s Bumbershoot?” Judd asks.

  “Only the biggest fucking music and arts festival Seattle has ever had,” Jonah says. “Maybe the biggest in the country.” He pumps his fist. “Hell, yeah!”

  I look at my phone, the background picture still a photo of Garrett and me, and I want nothing more than to call him and share the news. It’s right up there with going on SNL. But he hasn’t talked to me in weeks.

  Will I ever be truly happy about anything in my life if Garrett isn’t a part of it?

  Chapter Forty-three

  Garrett

  “Dude, you’ve been moping for five weeks,” Crew says after practice. “Is this really all about the abortion she had back when you made it clear you didn’t want kids, or is this about Saturday Night Live and Bumbershoot?”

  I offer him my middle finger. “You think I’m jealous? Have you seen my bank account lately?”

  “She’s getting a lot of recognition. You really haven’t spoken to her this whole time?”

  “What if Bria had an abortion without consulting you? What if she killed your baby and—” I realize who I’m taking to and what he went through years ago. “Oh, shit, man. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “This is about you, not me. Have you asked yourself what you would have done if she had told you she was pregnant? Not what the you of today would have done, the nineteen-year-old you.”

  I sit on my stool. “Only every damn day.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want kids, but a lot of people feel that way at times. That doesn’t mean they run out and get an abortion as soon as the stick turns blue. Maybe we could have made a go of it.”

  “Have you thought about where you’d be now if you had? If you’d left Australia and run back to her, would you still have met me and joined RA? You might not be sitting here with two gold records and a top-ten song under your belt.”

  “Or maybe I’d have all that and a kid.”

  “G, what’s done is done. You need to figure out if you really want to spend the next fifty years wondering how your life would have been different if you’d forgiven Reece. Picture her with someone else, because that’s what will happen, and you’ll see it front and center. She works for the same record label. She’s going to be around a long time.”

  I get up and rub my temples. “My fucking head hurts. Do you want to go for a drink?”

  “Can’t. The four of us are going cake-tasting tonight.”

  “But the wedding isn’t for two months.”

  He snorts, amused. “You wouldn’t believe what goes into the planning. Bria and Ella picked the flowers ages ago. Last week we met with the caterer. We’re getting measured for tuxes next Thursday, which reminds me, you have to come along, so clear your schedule. I guess it’s a good thing we’re only having four attendants, huh? If we’d had five, Reece probably would have been up there too.”

  “Thank God for small favors. Do you think she’ll still go to the wedding?”

  “She’s friends with Bria and Ella. That didn’t end after the tour. She’s bringing her roommate.”

  “Great. You’ll have lots of booze, right?”

  “Fix your shit, and you won’t need it.”

  Layla, our office assistant, pokes her head in the door. “Garrett, someone’s out front for you.”

  For a split second, I wonder if it’s Reece, then I think better of it. She’s in Vancouver, and in a few days, she’ll be in Seattle, playing where I’ve dreamed of playing for years.

  I stop dead when I see my mother in the front hall. She’s tried to contact me many times, but she’s never come in person. I march past her and out the front door.

  She follows. “Garrett, honey, please.”

  “What do you want? Did someone die or something?”

  “Yes. Someone did.”

  I spin, a sick feeling crawling up my throat. “Rob?”

  “Dad. Well, he’s not dead, but he died for a short while yesterday morning. He had a heart attack and stopped breathing. Kelsey did CPR.”

  “Kelsey?”

  “He’s asking for you.”

  “Why in the hell would he ask to see me—his unwanted, non-conforming, uneducated child?”

  She sighs. This close to her, I see she’s aged. She’s fifty-two, almost seven years older than when I last saw her. There are lines on her forehead and crow’s feet punctuate the corners of her eyes. I wonder why she hasn’t had surgery or Botox or something. Then again, she was never like that.

  “They called his heart attack a widow maker. That means it’s the worst kind. It kills people almost instantly, but he survived. That can change a person.”

  “Him? Unlikely.”

  “He’s your father. Please do the respectful thing and see him.”

  “Because he’s shown me so much respect over the years?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. Maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet with all of us.” She pulls a piece of paper from her purse. “Here’s the name of the hospital and his room number. If all goes well, he’ll be discharged the day after tomorrow.”

  I take it from her. “I have to go.”

  “I love you, Garrett. I always have.”

  I gaze blindly at the paper. “Did you know about the baby?”

  Her eyes water and she nods. “But not until after it was done.”

  “And you thought hiding it from me was the best course of action?”

  “I would have tried to talk her out of it, Garrett. You must know that. I would have gladly raised the baby myself. But like you, I wasn’t consulted.”

  “It still makes you a liar.”

  I hear her cry behind me as I walk as fast as I can without running to get away from her. And as soon as I get home, I rip up the piece of paper she gave me and throw it in the trash.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Goddamn it.”

  I get out of bed at the crack of dawn after another sleepless night. I turn on the light and go to the trashcan where I retrieve scraps of torn paper. I piece them together, get dressed, then grab my helmet and the keys to my bike.

  The entire way to the hospital, I second-guess myself. Why am I bothering to see a man who has hated me the better part of my life? Tolerated me at best.

  It’s funny though, I’m almost glad to have something to think about other than Reece. But the truth is, seeing him again is bound to bring all that shit back too.

  I park in the lot, turn off my bike, and wonder if this is a bad idea. Will he think I’ve forgiven him if I show up? Screw it. I’m already here. I go inside and a lady behind a desk asks if she can help me. “I’m here to see Daniel Young, room 6013.”

  She types into her computer, then looks up. “Your relationship?”

  “Son.” I barely get the word out without laughing. I show her my ID, and she directs me to the elevator.

  Most people would bring a card or balloons. Flowers, even. In my book, assholes aren’t deserving of any gifts. Even assholes who have heart attacks.

  A floor nurse shows me to his room. “Your mom went home for a shower. That amazing woman has been here since it happened. She slept in the waiting room and only left once yesterday for a short time.” She opens the door. His blinds are closed, and he’s sleeping. “He’ll wake soon. He sleeps a lot, which is typical during recovery of a heart attack. He’ll be in and out. Don’t
be afraid to touch him. Let me know if you need anything.”

  She leaves, and I’m alone with my father. I cross to the bed quietly, so not to wake him. Like mom, he looks older, and he’s in need of a shave. Wires come out from under his hospital gown—the one with blue flowers on it. How humiliating for him. I’ll bet he hates wearing it. I’ll bet he’s pissed he even has to be here. He probably won’t do a damn thing the doctors say and will end up having another heart attack in a month. He’s always lived that way, doing only what Daniel Young wants.

  I turn to sit in the chair, and he says, “Rob?” Tears flood his eyes. “Garrett.”

  He’s crying. My dad is crying. Maybe when he stopped breathing, it affected his mind.

  “It is you,” he says. He reaches out, but I pull away. “You hate me. You have every right to. I was a bastard of a father.”

  I raise a defiant brow. “Was?”

  “I’m not sure anyone can understand who or what they are until their whole life flashes before their eyes. I have a lot to apologize for.”

  The nurse returns and checks his monitor. “You okay, Mr. Young? Your heart rate is elevated.”

  He looks at me. “That’s because my son is here. Haven’t seen him in what, six years?”

  “Almost seven.”

  “Just take it easy, okay?” she says.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Gretchen. I’m following all the doctor’s orders. Scout’s honor.”

  “Exactly what I like to hear. Enjoy your visit.”

  Gretchen? He knows her name? I’m pretty sure he never even learned our gardener’s name. He only bothered doing that when they could further his career.

  “Sit,” he says. “I have a lot to say and not much energy to say it.”

  I pull over the chair and sit.

  “I was a shitty father. I was hard on you because I didn’t want you to grow up thinking everything was going to be handed to you on a silver platter. I thought if you worked hard enough, like me, you’d make something of yourself. But look at you now. You worked hard in a way I never thought possible. You made a name for yourself without any help from me.” His eyes become glassy again. “I’m proud of you, son, and I’m sorry it took me so damn long to say it.”

  I stand up, the lump in my throat hurting like a bitch. “I have to go.”

  “Garrett,” he calls after me.

  I walk down the hall, not knowing where to go or what to do. I stop when I see a mother and two teenage children behind closed glass doors. She’s crying in the arms of a doctor. Got bad news, I assume. Did her husband just die from—what did Mom call it—a widow maker?

  I sit in the waiting area and swallow my tears. For twenty-five years I’ve wanted to hear Dad say those words, but is it enough?

  “Gare?”

  I look up and see my brother. Our eyes lock. I’m not sure either of us knows what to say. Am I still mad at him? Do I want to be?

  He’s standing next to a pregnant lady holding hands with a little boy. Jesus, he’s got a family. I stand, and he takes a step back. “You’re not going to deck me in front of my wife and kid, are you?”

  She approaches me without hesitation and hugs me. “Garrett, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Kelsey.”

  She must be six or seven months pregnant. “You’re Kelsey? As in the one who gave CPR to my dad?”

  “I’m a nurse. Right here at this hospital, in fact. I work in pediatrics.” She rubs her belly. “I love kids.”

  The boy hides behind Rob, holding onto his leg. Rob picks him up. “This is Rett.”

  I try not to laugh. “As in Butler?”

  “As in Garrett,” Rob says. “Rett is his nickname.”

  I almost stagger in surprise. For the second time today, I have to take a deep breath.

  “I named him after the person I always admired,” he says, sniffing. “Damn, I’ve missed you, brother.”

  He hands Rett to Kelsey and comes in for a hug. I don’t stop him. I bury my head in his shoulder, wishing we could erase the past six years. When we part, we both have red eyes.

  “You’re making me look like a wimp in front of my nephew,” I say.

  “On the contrary,” Kelsey says. “He’s getting to see how real men should act.”

  “You see him yet?” Rob asks.

  “Yeah. Walked out when he started saying sappy shit.” I glance at Rett. “Sorry, sappy stuff.”

  “Seems like a different man, huh?”

  I laugh. “That’s the understatement of the decade. Do you think it will stick?”

  “Don’t know, but let’s enjoy it while it lasts. Hey, why don’t you come home with us? We’re staying at Mom and Dad’s while our house is getting renovated for the new arrival. I could use a hand setting up all the things Dad needs.” When I hesitate, he adds, “Kelsey is an amazing cook. She’ll make whatever you want.”

  “What happened to Zola?”

  “She’s still there, but we like to pitch in when we can.”

  “I doubt I’ll have time for brisket,” Kelsey says. “I know it’s your favorite, but how about pot roast and mashed potatoes?”

  She knows brisket is my favorite? “All right.”

  He pats me on the back. “Great. Let me pop in on Dad, and then we’ll go. Want to come along? They don’t allow Rett in there. He’s too young.”

  “I’m good. You go ahead.”

  “It’s going to take some getting used to for all of us,” he says. “But I think we’re off to a good start.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’m making the drive back to my childhood home. I get there before Rob, punch numbers into the gate box, and it opens. They never changed the code after all this time?

  Zola greets me with tears in her eyes. Then a dog runs into the foyer and jumps on me. I kneel down. “Dingo, I presume?” He licks me until Rob and Kelsey pull up, then goes out to greet them. Rob gets Rett out of his car seat. I’m still not able to believe he named him after me.

  Rob and I put together a state-of-the-art treadmill and then help delivery people set up a new bed in Mom and Dad’s room, the kind you can raise and lower the head on either side.

  We’ve been together for hours and not one time has he mentioned Reece. Is that for my benefit or his?

  After dinner, I’m checking out the updates in the theater room downstairs when I hear someone playing the drums—badly.

  In the music room, Rett is sitting on Rob’s lap, swatting the snare and cymbals with drumsticks. I laugh. “Starting him early, eh?”

  “He loves them. After I showed him videos of you playing, he can’t get enough.”

  “He’s seen me play?”

  “We all have. We’ve been following your career for years.”

  I pull up a stool next to the drums. “Hey, little man, you’re pretty good. How old are you?”

  He holds up three fingers.

  “Wow, and you already play like a rock star.”

  “Time for bed,” Kelsey says from the doorway. “Sorry to break up the band, but this one’s had a big day.”

  Rob hands Rett to her and then plants a kiss on each of them. “See you later, babe. Night, champ.”

  I rub the back of my neck. “My kid would be almost six years old now.”

  He lets out a huge sigh. “So she told you. I was wondering if she would. I knew you were playing together.”

  “We were more than playing together.”

  “That’s great. I knew you two belonged together.”

  I scowl. “We’re not anymore. The night before she went on tour in Canada, I found a song she wrote about the abortion. Before I saw that, I didn’t have a clue. I ended things right then.”

  “Darn, I’m sorry about that. I was wondering when we were going to talk about her. I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I almost get why she didn’t. She was eighteen and scared and thought I would break up with her if I found out about the baby. But you’re my brother. My best
friend.”

  “I screwed up. She was a wreck when she found out. I wanted her to tell you, but she insisted we keep it a secret. She’d have the abortion, and by the time you got home, she’d be fine and you could pick up where you left off, with you none the wiser. The only reason I went along with it was because I knew you didn’t want kids. Everyone who knew you knew it.”

  Despite everything we’ve done together today, I still can’t help feeling disgust. “What I don’t understand is how you got from keeping my girlfriend’s secret to marrying her.”

  “I’ve never been through anything like that in my life, Gare. She didn’t have anyone else, so I went with her. It started out fine, a relatively minor clinical procedure, but then everything went wrong. There was a lot of blood. I swear to God her whole body turned white. She passed out, and people were running into the room. They took her away, and I didn’t see her for several hours. I thought she was dying. I really believed I was going to have to call you and tell you Reece was dead.”

  He shakes his head. “I’d never seen so much blood. You have no idea how relieved I was to find out she was alive. But she was never the same. She became depressed. I mean, it made sense she would be depressed after the hysterectomy, her hormones being out of whack—”

  “Hysterectomy? What the hell?”

  His face is filled with surprise. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “We were fighting after I found the lyrics. She didn’t have a chance. Oh, man, the scar.” The gravity of the situation hits me. “She can’t have kids?”

  He puts a hand on my shoulder. “No. Sorry.”

  “How far along was she when she had the abortion? Did that cause the problem?”

  “The doctor said it was a one-in-a-million complication, something about the placenta. I don’t remember how far along she was, but she wasn’t showing.”

  “Do you know if it was a boy or girl?”

  “They didn’t tell her, and I thought it was best she didn’t find out. Her nightmares were bad enough without knowing that. It really ate her up. She immediately felt guilty about doing it. A few weeks after, she …” He swallows. “Maybe I shouldn’t be the one telling you this.”