End Note

by Sonya Loveday

  “I can show you, if you’d like,” I said, lifting my hand to beckon her closer.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’d love to show me.”

  I laughed at her response. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Murphy, and come sit over here beside me.”

  She watched me for a minute with cheeks blazing. I never let my gaze drop from her eyes, willing her to trust me. She huffed a breath and stood up, taking one step as if she were leaving, and then stopped herself. It looked as if she waged an internal battle, unsure what to do. She stilled, took a deep breath, and released it as she walked over to where I sat down. Dropping down beside me, she resumed her earlier position. “Now what?”

  “First things first…” I sat up and pulled her arm, releasing her legs. “And now…” I scooted forward until I was in front of her. Clasping her ankles, I pulled her legs straight, crossing them at the ankle. Her hands fell to her lap as she leaned forward to balance herself.

  “That’s not gonna work,” I said, shaking my head at her.

  “What?” She bristled.

  “Scoot back. All the way back, until you’re leaning against the tree,” I told her as I moved back to my original spot.

  She didn’t say anything back. Instead, she did as I told her, which really surprised me. “Now, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and just listen.”

  It took her a few breaths before I felt her relax beside me. “What exactly am I listening for?”

  I shrugged. “What do you hear?”

  There were all sorts of noises—birds, the rustle of leaves, the muted sound of cars in the distance. Every noise blended together, creating its own sort of song.

  “I think there’s a bird. Above us. I hope it doesn’t poop on me,” she said with a slight laugh that jostled our shoulders.

  “A little bird poop never hurt anyone. Besides, isn’t there some culture that thinks a bird pooping on you is a blessing or something like that?”

  I felt her sink further against the tree. “Blessing or not, it’s gross.”

  “Murphy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This… this is relaxing.”

  She sighed, shifting closer to me. “It’s nice.”

  We sat like that for a while as the sun dipped lower in the sky, both enjoying each other’s company. The long pauses of silence were only interrupted by the swaying branches and an occasional bird breaking out in bursts of chirping.

  Murphy sighed, moving to stand. “Ready to head back?”

  I stood, brushed off the back of my jeans, and then held my arm out to her. She slid her arm through mine, and my chest expanded. It was a small step, but it meant so much that she’d taken it.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I WOKE up to find Murphy’s bed already put away. Scrubbing my hands across my eyes, I caught the scent of coffee. When I opened them, I expected her to be in front of me. My hopes were dashed when I realized it was Oliver, coffee extended out for me to take.

  Coffee was coffee, and I needed it desperately to clear the cobwebs from my mind. Grunting my thanks at him, I sat up to drink it.

  Murphy swept in, cup in hand and notebook tucked under her arm against her side. She set her cup on the table and flipped the page over. “I got with everyone else already, but you were still sleeping.”

  I tipped the cup back and took a gulp. There would be no communicating without it. It burned a path down my throat, and I waited a moment while the heat traveled down my chest before I spoke. “What time is it?”

  Murphy gave me a weird look and pointed at my wrist. My gaze traveled to my arm where my watch was strapped. Damn. It had been forever since I’d worn it, or well, since the summer before high school. I’d been so lost without it for the first week that it had been locked away from me. As the years went by, I’d counted the days down until I could free it from the time capsule the Six and I had put together. It was like having a brand-new watch all over again, and yet, it fit so well that I forgot it was there. “Yeah, sorry.”

  It didn’t matter anymore, the time, because Murphy was looking at me, waiting for me to listen to what she had to say. “You really don’t function well without coffee, do you, Jared?” She laughed, and warmth spread through me.

  God, but she was right. I needed the caffeine boost to wake up. Once it kicked in, I was ready to go. Before it kicked in, I felt like a motor that just wouldn’t roll over, no matter how many times you cranked the key.

  Oliver chatted with Murphy for a minute about how the equipment would be moved once we got to the venue, and about the lineup of bands. My ears perked up as I waited for her to mention Red Gaze, Ed’s band, but she didn’t tick that one off. I relaxed and finished my coffee until they were done speaking.

  Oliver wrapped up his questions, leaving us to check out the layout of the venue.

  “So what’s up?” I leaned forward with elbows on my knees, giving her my undivided attention.

  Murphy slipped one leg underneath her, balancing the coffee mug on her thigh. Never had I wished I were a coffee cup more than in that moment. “I heard back from Woody. We’re opening for Dead Galaxy in Chicago after our stop in Montgomery. We’ll only have an hour or so after the set wraps up to get loaded and be on our way. We’ll have to push to get there, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

  My stomach bottomed out. I’d hoped I’d get more than just an hour to catch up with Riley. She’d be pissed thinking I’d made her drive all that way, only to get little-to-no time together. And I really wasn’t looking forward to Paige’s attitude about it either. I kept the sigh brewing in my chest from escaping. It wasn’t Murphy’s fault that the schedule had us busting our asses to get to Chicago. She was along for the ride, just like the rest of us.

  Murphy waved her hand in front of me. “I’d ask if that was a problem, but really, it’s already set, so you’re gonna have to deal.”

  A snort came out, and I made myself smile at her. “I’m dealing with a lot of things. What’s one more? Don’t worry; I’ll be on the bus before it rolls out.” I left her to get more coffee.

  Fuckin’ Woody.

  Breaking the news to Riley would suck.

  WE WERE THIRD UP TO play at the Oklahoma City music fest. A steady line of cars pulled in hours before the first set kicked off. Beer vendors and T-shirt stands were set up in a bustle of activity. I stood outside the bus, watching it all come together. I’d grabbed my phone and headphones, hoping I could find my zone while listening to music. It seemed to help a little since the anxiety wasn’t as bad as the first time.

  What I hadn’t counted on was my father calling me before I could call him.

  I seriously contemplated not answering and calling him back after the show. The last thing I wanted was to head out in front of a crowd so pissed I couldn’t see straight. But if I didn’t answer, then I’d stew over having to call him back. Jerking the headphones from my ears, I answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  “How’s everything going, Jared?”

  I clenched and unclenched my fist. He knew damn well how everything was going. He had a watchdog to report to him. “Why did you do it, Dad?”

  “I’m assuming you’re talking about Oliver?” I could almost see my dad, leaning back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew our conversation was steps away from coming to a full-blown argument.

  “I’m not sure why you thought sending a babysitter to watch over me was necessary…”

  “Jared, he’s not a babysitter. He’s former Special Ops,” he said.

  “Why though?”

  “Why was he Special Ops? I don’t know, son, you’d have to ask him.” My father chuckled.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Sometimes, I cursed the fact that my dad was just as smart-assed as I was.

  “Your mother and I decided together that it would be within your best interest and for your safety. Oliver comes highly recommended and, from what I hear, those concerts can get pretty
rowdy.”

  Pretty rowdy? “Seriously? You and Mom used to leave me home while you took off, wherever it is you go, and now you’re worried? I’m an adult! I don’t need someone taking care of me.”

  My dad sighed. It was long and drawn out, which infuriated me even more.

  “I’m not gonna fight with you about this. Oliver’s there to keep an eye on your safety, not to babysit you. I didn’t hire him to call me with your every move. I hired him to ensure you get from one concert to the next unharmed. Now, tell me what your schedule is like. Your mother and I would like to come see you play.”

  What? It was my turn to pinch the bridge of my nose. There would be no getting rid of Oliver. And really, did I want to? At least we could go on stage and not worry about Murphy. I dropped my hand, grumbling, as I rattled off our upcoming tour schedule.

  “Chicago? We could swing that one.” My dad almost sounded excited, confusing me even more. They’d never really been interested in my music career. They even tried to sway me by offering me a job at Cole Enterprises. High-rise buildings and ties weren’t my thing. When I declined, they realized I’d do my damnedest to break into the music industry with, or without, their help. They chose to support me and even went the extra mile to help me get my demos out. They were the most confusing parents in the history of parental figures.

  “We’re just opening for Dead Galaxy, Dad. It’s not like it would be a full concert.” Why was I trying to discourage them from coming? All I’d ever wanted from them was to see me succeed in music. To show them I had what it took.

  “Even better! That way, we can take you out for dinner after you’re done.” My dad made it sound like he was the one calling the shots.

  “I don’t know, Dad. Our schedule might have us right back on the road after that,” I said, not wanting him to get his hopes up.

  “Well, we’ll play it by ear then.” He laughed at his own lame joke.

  I couldn’t help but laugh too. My dad and I were so much like each other, it was a wonder my mother hadn’t gone running for the hills long ago.

  In the background, I heard the soft tone of my mother’s voice. “Tell Mom I said hi and I love her.”

  “Will do. Now, I suppose I should let you go so you can get ready for your concert. I’ll be in touch about Chicago.”

  “Okay, Dad. Talk to you then.”

  “Jared?”

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  “Kick some ass out there on stage. Okay?”

  “You know I will.”

  “Love ya, kid.”

  “Love you too, Dad.”

  I hung up the phone and switched my music back on. Would there ever be a day when he didn’t call me ‘kid’? I knew he didn’t mean it in the literal sense. At least, I hoped anyway. Did anyone else’s parents do that after they’d grown up and left the nest?

  I had just turned nineteen. Surely, by the time I turned twenty, they’d see I wasn’t just some kid chasing a dream. I’d show them. I’d prove I was made for it. But who are you really trying to prove it to? Them or yourself? Shrugging away the voice of doubt that reared its ugly head, I got back on the bus.

  Murphy sat at the table with a notebook in front of her and a planner beside her. Maybe she had an idea what was after Chicago.

  I grabbed a water from the fridge and sat down opposite of her at the dinette. “What are you working on?”

  She looked up at me with a scowl. Her eyes were unfocused. As she blinked, the frown fell away. The pencil in her hand tapped against the paper. “Just trying to make sense of this.” Her hand slapped at a ledger page with a huff. “I don’t even know why I bother though. It never matches with the bank statement, which makes balancing the account a nightmare.”

  “Doesn’t Woody tell you when he pulls money from the account?” I knew the answer to that question, but I wanted to hear it from her.

  She bit her lip and looked away. “It’s not that simple, Jared.”

  “Why do you stay?” I blurted the question before I had time to think about it.

  A bubble of laughter followed by a groan escaped her. “That’s the million-dollar question now, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s really none of my business.” I should have left it alone. She had enough to worry about with Woody and his misdealing of the band’s money. She didn’t need me questioning her about everything else. That didn’t stop me from wondering why she’d stick around though. She had enough experience to step into the same position with another band.

  She closed the notebook in front of her. “It’s okay. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t asked myself the same thing. In fact, I ask myself the exact thing every time I sit down and look at the books.”

  “Have you ever come up with an answer?” I asked.

  “This…” Her hand rose up, gesturing around us. “This is all I’ve ever known. When I was sixteen, I emancipated myself from my mother around the same time Woody blew into town, flashing a wallet full of hundred dollar bills in my face. My mother was on her way to rehab… again. It was like her fifth time in two years, with Woody being the one who paid for her stay. When he found out I’d dropped out of school, he offered me a job. I accepted. Now, here I am, two years later, wondering why I threw away my chance at graduating high school. College would have been the next move, but I’d been so angry with my mom. Angry at life. Anyway, I like what I do. Being on the road has its ups and downs, but for the most part, it’s been fun.”

  While I was trudging my way through the last two years of high school, practically bursting at the seams to be a musician, Murphy was dealing with some crazy stuff. Shit most kids shouldn’t have to deal with. For her to take Woody’s offer over staying home and finishing school, it had to have been bad. After realizing some of what she went through, I knew Murphy was a fighter. She wouldn’t be one to tuck her tail between her legs and run when things got tough.

  “So you’ve stayed.” She wasn’t looking for sympathy, and I damn sure wasn’t going to give it to her. It took guts to do what she did.

  She gave me a smile. “And so I stayed.”

  “So, change of subject. I need to get two tickets for the Montgomery show for Riley and Paige. How do I do that?”

  Murphy picked up her phone and typed away on the screen. “All set. Anything else?”

  I turned on the bench long ways and crossed my feet. “Yeah, what’s on the schedule after Chicago?”

  Murphy reached under the table and pulled her book bag up from the floor. She stuffed the notebook and planner inside, zipped it closed, and dumped it on the seat beside her. “Nothing yet. I’m waiting for Woody to email me the next lineup. Which he usually has by now. Hopefully, he hasn’t forgotten to send it to me.”

  “If you hear anything, would you let me know? My parents are coming to the Dead Galaxy show and wanted to take me to dinner after the concert. I told my dad I’d find out what our schedule was,” I explained.

  She stared at me openly, scrutinizing every inch of my face.

  It made me uncomfortable. “What?”

  She shook her head, propping her elbows on the table. “You. I just don’t know what to make of you, Jared.”

  “Make of me?”

  “Yeah. On one hand, you’re the lead singer of a band. On the other, you’re someone’s son. I’d never had that connection slap me so hard until now.”

  I slid my feet back to the floor, mirroring her with my elbows on the table, and leaned in, dipping my head to be eye level with her. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, Murphy.”

  She brought her palms up, resting her chin on them. “What I mean is, normally all I see is the guy—the position he plays in a band and nothing more. With you, I see who you are, not just what you are. Why are you so different from them?”

  I leaned back and laid my arms across the table, palms up, waiting to see if she’d put her hands in mine.

  “See, that’s what I mean,” she said, tilting her head and darting
a quick glance at my open palms.

  “Because I’m giving you the option of whether or not you want to put your hands on mine?”

  “Yes.” Her teeth worried her bottom lip, but she kept her eyes on mine.

  “Would you rather I take what I want?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “You would have done it already if that was your intent.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself. What if I told you that I’m fighting everything in me to keep from pulling you over the table and carrying you to the first available bed?”

  Her sharp intake of breath was the only sound that came from her.

  “Does that shock you, Murphy?” I stretched my hand out, running my fingertips against the side of her arm up to her balled fist, which was pressed against her chin. A trail of goose bumps raced to keep up with my fingers. She shuddered when I closed my hand around her wrist and tugged gently until her arm rested against the table. Her fist was clenched tight, making the knobs of her knuckles go white. Letting go of her wrist, I trailed my fingers down her hand, brushing lightly across her knuckles. When her hand twitched open, I laid my hand, palm up, on the table.

  Her eyebrows shot up and she dropped her other arm, leaving it resting in front of her at the edge of the table. It was a show of stubbornness or fear, I wasn’t sure.

  I mimicked her expression and waited. She’d cave. I could see her heartbeat racing at the juncture of her neck, the flush of her cheeks.

  “Your move, Murphy.”

  Her hand came off the table and hovered over mine, “And what if I don’t want to make that move?” The pads of her fingertips lightly brushed against the inside of my palm, igniting sparks up my spine.

  “But what if you do? I’m not asking for your soul, Murphy. Not yet, anyway. Right now, I just wanna hold your hand in mine.”

  Her fingers slid down and hooked onto mine. Trapping her fingers with my thumb, I brushed my lips against her knuckles, not taking my eyes from her. I wanted her to see the need she’d stirred in me, hoping she felt something for me too.