by S. L. Scott
The next time will be different. There’s talk of touring with the The Resistance and opening for them. That means stadiums and arenas, which is a whole other ballgame.
I may have stars in my eyes this time around, but I’m not going in blind. Touring is taxing on the body and mind, but it kills relationships, as Rivers can attest to. Only the strongest bonds will survive. Alfie has to remain a priority, and I have no problem doing that. I think deep down, Hannah knows that, but at some point, when I know where we’re heading career wise, I’ll have to sit down and work this out with her. She needs to be a part of the decision too.
A few walls have come tumbling down over the past week. I think she wants to hate me more than she does. At least that’s what I’m counting on.
The doors open, and the classes file out one by one. Alfie’s is third, and he’s already jumping up and down, excited to see me. I may not be jumping, but I’m just as excited, something I could’ve never imagined before meeting him.
His teacher waves to me, and I see two other teachers next to her waving. I look behind me, but no one is standing there. I’m used to attention when I’m at a show, but the school setting perplexes me. Alfie is tapped on the shoulder, the signal he’s free to go. He runs around a baby stroller and two moms and straight into my arms. “I did a pitcher for you, Jet.”
“A picture, buddy.”
“I made one for the fridge. Look.” He holds up green construction paper, and I turn my head all the way to the right.
“Heeey, that’s pretty good. It’s a guitar.”
“It’s your ka-tar. We were told to draw something that makes us happy.”
Hugging him, I reply, “My guitar makes you happy?”
“When you play, it makes you happy, and that makes me happy.”
“You’ve got a big heart, Alfie.” When I set him down, I hold the artwork in one hand and his hand in the other. “Who are the people drawn in the corner?”
“Our family.”
“Are those your uncles?”
We cross the street to where I’ve parked the truck. “No, silly, that’s me and you and Hannah.”
I almost stumble over my own feet. The drawn people are all holding hands, with him holding Hannah’s and me holding her other one. If only life was that simple.
I navigate to a different topic, one I’m more comfortable talking about. “I like that you drew a star and a sun.”
“The star is Mommy. She’s in heaven.”
Stopping in front of my truck, I feel my chest squeeze. I’m always at a loss for what to say about Cassie. I don’t want him not to talk about her, but I also don’t want to say the wrong thing or screw up.
When I open the door for him to climb in, I wait for him to settle and then buckle him up. “You know, Alfie, we haven’t talked much about my mom, but she’s in heaven too.”
“Is she my grandma?”
“Yes. Louisa. That was her name.”
“Do you have pitchers?”
“Pictures.” Chuckling, I rest my weight on the truck door. “I do. I can show you when we get home.”
“Grandma Eileen once said I was born with only one, but I knew she was wrong because my teachers told me everyone has two. Brandon Lowery has three because his grandpa married a nurse.”
What the fuck? I don’t even know what to say to that. I just rub my temple instead and let him keep talking. He says, “I don’t argue with Grandma, or I get sent to my room.”
“Look, little man, I know it’s tough to have all these changes at this moment, but your mommy meant a lot to Eileen. She loved your mommy very much.”
“Did you?”
“Sonic or Wendy’s for dinner? I’m thinking Sonic, but I’m open if you have a preference.”
“Happy meal?”
“You got it.” Shit. This kid catches me off guard, but I can’t let him see me sweat. I also can’t make him think his questions aren’t valid. Fuck. I sound like a psychologist. I shut the door and walk around the back of the truck. Stopping at the tailgate, I pretend to secure it because I need a damn second to figure out what to say if he bombs me like that again.
I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. With my arm on the back of my seat, I turn around, and look at him in his booster chair in the back. His eyes reveal his curiosity, and I owe him an actual answer. “I loved your mom, Alfie.” I just say it.
He did nothing to deserve anything less than to hear good things about his mother, but would she really tell him bad things about me? In my gut, I feel she wouldn’t. He also doesn’t act like I’m a monster. The kid accepted me the second he saw me, so that’s what I’ll hold onto. That’s what I’ll believe in—him.
Turning back to pull out of the parking spot, I freeze when he says, “She said she loved you.”
First, my eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and then I turn around again. “She did?”
“She said I would like you. I do, Jet. I like you.”
“When did she say that?”
“I would sneak into her bed at night. I was careful not to wake Hannah.”
“Where was Hannah?”
“In our room.”
“You shared with her?”
He nods. “I have a room, but I liked Mommy’s room, but sometimes her machines kept me awake. Hannah would let me sleep in her bed when I was scared or couldn’t sleep.”
“How often were you scared?”
“Most nights I have bad dreams.”
He hasn’t here, not at my house. I check on him all the time. “Do you still have bad dreams?”
Shrugging, he replies, “Not really.”
I find some relief in his answer. I’m not a psychologist, but he seems to be internalizing his emotions. He’s dealt with more than any kid should have to yet remains positive on the outside. Is it an act he puts on, or is he starting to heal in some ways? And I’m still curious what Cassie had to say about me. “Tell me about when you would sneak with your mommy.”
He says, “We would read together, and she would teach me all the things she wanted me to know before she goes.”
“She taught you about me?”
Another nod. When he starts losing interest in the conversation, I start driving. “What did she say about me?” I glance at him in the mirror.
He smiles. “She said she loved you, and you loved her, and that love made me.” I’m about to say something, but he adds, “If Hannah loves you and you love Hannah, will I get a baby brother?”
My foot almost slams on the brake, bringing us to a skidding stop, but I keep driving, flustered by how I should reply. I swear he can hear my thoughts scrambling around my head over the rumbling of this truck. “Umm, do you want one?”
“You got two. All I want is one.”
I’m four years older than Tulsa and two years older than Rivers. I had two baby brothers by the time I was Alfie’s age. This is brand new for both of us and too soon to think about what might happen, much less adding another kid into the mix, another kid with Hannah apparently. “Hannah and I are friends, Alfie. Like you have friends at school.”
“Oh,” he says, sighing and looking out the window.
We pull into the parking lot of the fast food joint, and I look back again. “Hey, this is good—you and me. As for more kids, I’m not sure what will happen, but I’m happy to have you.”
“I’m happy to have you, Jet.”
Squeezing his hand, I say, “I want you to know that I like you too, Alfie.” I want to push him for more information about what Cassie told him, but by the way he’s looking out the window, he’s ready to eat. So am I. “Nuggets or burger?”
“Nuggets.”
Stubbing the cigarette into the bucket of sand, I say, “I’ll fly back every few days if I have to.”
Rivers shakes his head. “You can’t be gone when we’re trying to record. The whole project will be put on hold every three days.”
“I don’t know how to manage this. I was fucking ar
ound with music, having a good time without any real responsibilities. Without any heads-up or warning, I became a father less than two weeks ago.”
We continue to talk while watching Tulsa teach Alfie how to throw a baseball. Rivers pats my back. “Normally, I’d give you a hard time about what’s happened, but you’re doing the right thing, Jet.”
“He’s a great kid, and I had nothing to do with it.”
“Sure, you did. It’s your genes mixed up in that kid.”
“Let’s hope he gets his mother’s sensibilities. If he’s anything like me when he becomes a teen, I’m fucked.”
Laughing, he says, “Karma’s a bitch.”
“Karma sure is.” We sit a minute, more on my mind than I know what to address. I go with the heavy stuff that’s been weighing down my heart. “It’s bullshit that she was taken from him.” I look over at him. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I’ve been trying to think back to the time you were dating. She wasn’t around long.”
“No. Even though we were dating, we didn’t see each other that many times. We were gone for part of the tour that month.”
“Man, this whole thing is heavy. How are you holding up?”
“I’m doing fine, but Alfie deserves a mother.”
“You know we’re here whenever you or Alfie needs us. As for the contract, if it doesn’t work out, it’s not meant for us anyway.”
Rivers has always been more reasonable than Tulsa or me. I think my mom’s accident made him grow up faster than he should have. We all reacted differently or acted out differently, I should say. He looked inward for answers, and I did everything I could to bury myself in whiskey and women, lost my soul to music, and gave in to the demons of my parents’ death.
I hit my low on the road while sitting in a drunk tank in Nacogdoches. Rivers was only seventeen and busy fighting with his girlfriend on the phone. Tulsa wasn’t old enough to bail me out, so he had to convince the bar manager to bail me out after paying him our earnings.
Rivers needed a big brother he could count on, and Tulsa needed a father figure. I became both that day. My role in Alfie’s life comes more naturally this time around. “I won’t hold you guys back. If you have to sign without me, I’ll still do what I can, whatever you need me to do. I just can’t take the risk of hurting Alfie. He’s already lost one parent . . .”
“We’re not just a band, Jet. We’re brothers. All for one and one for all.” We stand, our bodies mimicking each other’s—hands in pockets, nearly the same height. Nudging me with his elbow, he adds, “Enough of this sappy shit. Let’s eat and go over the contract.”
Saved from getting any deeper by the doorbell, I announce dinner. “Pizzas are here.”
With full bellies, we start reading through the contract. Alfie is playing a video game while sitting next to me.
Rivers says, “We can make this work, but you’ll need help. It’s good money, so Tulsa and I talked already, and we’ll give up a portion of our share to hire someone.”
Alfie asks, “Hire someone for what?” Raising his hand, he sits up eagerly. “I’ll help.”
“You’ve been a big help around here already, Alfie, but we’re talking about help with you. Your schedule. Your school. If I sign this contract, I won’t always be able to pick you up from school or read you books at night.”
The controller is set aside, and he clings to my arm, leaning his head against me. “I just got you. Don’t leave me.”
To say he’s adapted well is an understatement. I wrap my arm around him and kiss the top of his head. “I play music for my job, and sometimes that requires travel. That means I won’t be here, in my house, with you. But it’s only for a little bit of the time. You can’t travel all over when you’re in school and who will watch you at night when I’m on stage?”
“Me. I’m a big boy,” he says, pouting. “You told me so.”
“You are, buddy,” I reply, catching Rivers’s troubled gaze. He and Tulsa know me better than anyone. They know what I’m thinking. Music is in my soul, but this kid is my flesh and blood. After all those years stolen from us, if I leave now, that may damage us even more.
Alfie asks, “Why can’t I go with you?”
“We play in a lot of places that kids can’t hang out in, and to make an album, we will have to fly to LA for a month or so.”
“What’s LA?”
“Los Angeles. It’s a city in California, which is a long way from Texas.” I can’t do it. I can’t leave him, especially not when I’m trying to win custody of him.
His tiny shoulders slump even more. “Everybody leaves me.” The words punch a hole right through my heart, and then he follows with another. “Is it because I said I like you?”
Pulling him onto my lap, I try my best to reassure him. “No, that’s not it at all.” I don’t know how to sugarcoat, and I think he’s had enough of that in the past. “I love you, Alfie. I want what’s best for you because you are the most important thing in my life. If it’s not good for you, it’s not good for me. We’re a team, buddy. Your last name may be Barnett, but you’re still a Crow.”
Green eyes peer up at me. “What is famous?”
“Where did you hear famous?”
“Uncle Tulsa.”
I scowl at Tulsa. A kid doesn’t need to worry about that shit. Fame is hollow. Music has depth. I don’t need fame to find success. If I can make a living, I’m good. “It’s when everyone knows who you are. I don’t need fame.” I shoot Tulsa a glare and then turn back to Alfie. “I need to be able to give you what you need.”
“I don’t need anything. Promise.”
“You know we leave this week, but you won’t even notice I’m gone because you’ll be with Hannah and Grandma. Then I’ll be back just in time to pick you up.” It’s really more for me that I hug him, but if he feels an ounce of how much I care about him, I’m winning.
Tulsa stands, an idea firmly planted in his mischievous eyes. “Rivers is right. Together we have enough in this offer to keep us going for the next year. Even if we take say twenty-five percent to hire someone we trust, someone to help out, we’re still banking.”
Alfie bolts upright with a matching look in his eyes. He’s going to be so much trouble if he turns out anything like Tulsa. I can’t help but laugh, though. And then he says, “Hannah.”
My laughter is gone, not liking her name being dragged in out of nowhere. “What about Hannah?”
Whipping around to look back at me, he tilts his head and scrunches his face, and then it dawns on me too. “Hannah.”
My eyes dart to Rivers, who nods, and then to Tulsa, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. “The kid’s on to something,” he says. Walking around the coffee table, Tulsa takes Alfie and swings him onto his back. “Come on, little monkey. Let’s give your dad and uncle time to talk. Anyway, I want to show you how to style your hair so all the girls will go nuts for you.”
“I don’t want girls to go nuts, Uncle Tulsa.”
“I second that,” I say, sitting up. “He’s got some time before we need to worry about that.”
Tulsa laughs. “Fine. I’ll race you out back.”
Alfie replies, “I’m going to win again.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Who’s the kid here? Fuck, I’m lucky for my brothers, and Alfie’s lucky to have them as uncles.
The screen door slams closed behind them, and Rivers says, “Hannah’s a good idea.”
She always was.
“He loves her. We can trust her to take care of him. I don’t get the impression she’s working right now.” He asks, “Do you think she’d consider the job?”
“She’s been looking for a job. I need help. This could be either a brilliant idea or a disastrous mistake.”
“Sounds like a match made in . . .” He doesn’t finish that sentence. He’s starting to pick up on my feelings for her, feelings I can’t afford to risk expressing out loud.
She’s not a cruel p
erson, but she and her aunt still want to win custody. “I’m not sure if it’s wise to involve her. It could be used against me in the custody case.”
“Parents work, Jet. They can’t fault you for needing help. Your hours are different from the usual parent, but you’re there when they aren’t.”
“It’s an interesting idea. Maybe this is my shot at proving I can be all he needs while keeping her involved in his life. Eileen Barnett wants me gone, but the more family the better when it comes to surrounding him with love.”
“I know dick about kids, but he seems so . . . happy. Yeah, he misses his mom, but is it normal for him to have just coped so well with coming here? He’s a good kid.”
“He is. Doing this could screw up everything.”
“Signing this deal could make all the years of hard work pay off. It wouldn’t be a matter of paying the light bill or getting the truck fixed. It would be a matter of do I buy the house with the view or the one with the swimming pool. This could change everything in a better way for you and Alfie.”
“He trusts and loves her. She loves him. This would show the judge that I’m willing to put his interests ahead of my own by putting our differences aside and working together.” I stand and lean to the side to catch sight of Alfie and Tulsa in the backyard playing. “If Hannah would be willing to work with me to take care of Alfie, we could record the album and release it on Outlaw Records nationally. This could be the best thing that ever happened for us.”
“Exactly.”
I’m not naïve. I know the risk I’m taking. “Man, the possibility of our dreams coming true hinges on one thing . . . or should I say person—Hannah.”
13
Jet
Our knees bump together under the table, but she’s always the first to move away. I persist, liking this game of cat and mouse we’re playing. I finish my last bite of bacon and notice her plate is still more than half full.
By looking at Hannah’s plate, I start to wonder if she has a small appetite or just doesn’t like to eat in front of me. I don’t know why chicks feel they aren’t allowed to eat. I’ve never once heard a guy bragging about banging a bag of bones. “Are you going to eat that?” I ask, pushing away my empty plate.