Liner Notes

by Madden, A. M.

  “So Christopher was here last week to visit.”

  “He’s just trying to butter you up,” I quipped. My best friend loved siding with my mother against me. I had a great group of friends in Surprise, but Chris was like a brother to me. He’d slept and ate at my house more than his own, and Mom had loved every minute of it.

  Of course she’d never believed such a nice boy could be behind some of the harebrained schemes we’d pulled. It was always hard to get away with anything—playing hooky, sneaking a girl in, drinking with my buddies. The woman’s hawklike instincts could predict trouble the moment I had the thought… and she still possessed that ability. Yet even while she’d ruled my friends and me with an iron fist, they had all still adored her.

  “That’s not true. He just craves a loving home. I invited him for dinner.”

  “Of course you did,” I teased.

  “He can’t come but promised to see you later.” I looked down at her with a smile. No matter how long it had been between my visits, it always felt like no time had passed at all.

  Despite my humble upbringing, that bland-colored house held so many loving memories. A revolving door that allowed our friends to come and go, giving us the place we all enjoyed hanging out in.

  My heart squeezed at its weathered and worn condition. The last time I’d visited, I’d promised I would paint and fix the gutters for her. Seeing them now reminded me how quickly I had forgotten that promise.

  The first thing I’d do with my money was to send a herd of contractors over to fix the place up. I’d give her the garden she always wanted, since planting in sand wasn’t feasible. I’d build her a new shop with newer machines.

  Even if I could offer to buy her a new house, I knew my mom wouldn’t leave as long as she held a breath in her lungs. She was proud of our home, of the life she’d built there for us. She loved the people, the climate, the dusty roads that led to town. She even loved the crotchety old man who lived next door with his equally crotchety old basset hound, Rufus.

  “Hey, Mr. Safford,” I said with a wave from where he nosily watched from his front porch across the narrow strip of lawn.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled just as Rufus began howling at me. “Don’t you go kicking up the dirt with that truck of yours when you pull out.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “Ignore him,” Mom said when I grabbed my bag and we walked toward the house. And as irritated as she appeared, she couldn’t fool me when it came to Mr. Safford. For years she’d made sure the man was properly fed, going as far as volunteering her time to shop for him. There hasn’t been a meal made in my house that the old bastard hadn’t eaten as well. Mom always said, If I’m cooking, I might as well triple the recipe.

  His appreciation came when others in town would tell Mom how much he adored his girl, Erica. Not once had he ever admitted that to her in person, though.

  “Guess what I made.” Her amber eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled up at me. Sometimes they were a touch darker, looking more orange than gold. That was the only thing I inherited from her, our unique eye color. My mom and sisters had the same golden-brown hair, where mine was much darker. I’d seen a few pictures of my dad, old snapshots tucked away in a cabinet, and unfortunately I looked just like him. It always made me wonder how my mother could love me as much as she did when I was a constant reminder of the fucker who’d left her high and dry.

  “Potpie?” I responded to her tease.

  “And cherry cobbler.” My stomach grumbled at the mention of my absolute favorite meal. God love my mother, she’d probably cooked all night for me since I had only called yesterday to announce my visit. “Are you out of your freezer supply yet?” Every time I visited, she’d pack up all the uneaten portions to take back with me.

  “Like two days later.” Since it’d been a while from my last visit, I was starved for more.

  “Well, I made enough to fill your freezer again, among some other things you love,” she admitted with a sly smile.

  “You’re just trying to fatten me up.”

  “Or have you visit me more often.”

  Once in the door, the delicious aroma smacked me in the face. I dropped my bag and stalked right for the kitchen. “Cannon Davis! Don’t you dare touch that potpie.”

  “Dammit. I’m starving.”

  “And don’t swear… have an apple. We’ll eat when your sisters get here.”

  And just like that, my mother had me feeling like I was twelve all over again.

  Less than an hour later, hugs and kisses were cut short when I threatened, “If you all don’t feed me soon, I’ll carve you all up and bury you in the backyard. And believe me, the jail time would be worth it.”

  Because, hello… potpie.

  We all sat around the dining room table as Mom and I each took the head. Kate took one side with John, and Kim the other with Mark. A quick glance down at Kate’s hand revealed John still hadn’t asked her. I needed to pull him aside later and ask what the fuck he was waiting for.

  My sisters began their interrogations, to which I kept responding with huffs of frustrated air, as my mother began dishing out dinner with a shake of her head. “Please pass this to the man-child,” she said to Kate.

  Kate held out the dish piled high with beef potpie and said, “You look happy, Can Man.” She grinned when I groaned at the annoying nickname they’d given me, one I couldn’t shake.

  “Because I’m finally being fed.” I shoveled a huge forkful in my mouth and grinned.

  “No, that’s not it,” she challenged. Obviously, my older twin sister had inherited mom’s supersleuth instincts, a skill that came in handy as a grammar schoolteacher. John was a cop, and once they became serious I teased Kate maybe she should join the force as well to spare those poor kids that she taught.

  Kim, on the other hand, was a nurse and a live-and-let-live kind of person. She and Kate may have been identical twins, from their honey-brown hair to their matching eyes, but personality-wise they were nothing alike.

  So here was the funny thing. Kate and Mark were teachers at the same elementary school. They had become good friends, and Kate had thought he would be a great fit for Kim. Ironically, Mark had felt the same about Kate being a good fit for his twin, John… also identical. To make it even more confusing, the brothers had a similar shade of hair and deep-brown eyes as my sisters. Their kids would be a walking study in DNA.

  Personally, I thought the entire thing was too weird. How could John not look at Kim sexually when she looked just like his girlfriend… or vice versa? And as quickly as those thoughts appeared, a gag forced them to disappear… because gross.

  “Well, whatever it is, California seems to agree with you. There’s definitely a vibe coming off you.”

  As if Kate’s comment held hidden meaning, Mom stopped with serving spoon suspended and blurted out, “You’ve met someone.”

  All eyes cut to me.

  “I didn’t meet anyone.” Was that a lie? It felt like a lie. My mother always knew when I lied. Needing a diversion, in my moment of brilliance I threw out, “I do have news, though.”

  My mother plopped in her chair, and I wasn’t sure if it was excitement that caused her deer-in-headlights expression or worry. I really wanted to wait until later to bring up the real reason I had made this unexpected visit. When the shimmer of tears appeared, I knew she knew.

  “Really, Cannon? Is it…”

  “It is.” I nodded through the smile that slowly spread over my face. “I’m being signed.”

  “Oh my gosh!” She and my sisters flew out of their chairs, but my mother wasted no time in hurrying toward me. “I knew it would happen. I knew it. I knew it.”

  When her infamous death grip circled my head, I grunted. “You don’t know the details yet.” My voice was barely audible from behind the arm that barricaded my mouth.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said before sobs took over. “My son’s… dream… is coming…” Gulps of air came next,
and then she finished with, “…true.”

  Chapter 10

  Cannon

  Dinner went on for hours because of the bottle of champagne mom had to crack open, and the million and one questions the females in my life needed to ask. How could I blame them? It was hard to wrap my own head around my news. And until I met with the label execs, it seemed like nothing more than a dangling dream.

  My sister Kim read through the contract I’d brought with me—and which my attorney had reviewed yesterday. For the most part, Mr. Brooks had no major concerns. He wanted to be sure I was completely comfortable with the length of the traveling arrangements during the tour, because once we set out, it would be hard to negotiate anything major I’d need.

  The one thing Mr. Brooks felt compelled to add was a renegotiation clause for after completion of the first tour. So many artists sign contracts that bind them for years, and if they hit major success, they’re often not compensated properly until a new contract is negotiated, thus cheating them out of millions.

  Damn, I’d never have thought of that. After a few tweaks to salary, insurance benefits, and royalties, he’d promised to have it officially amended and overnighted to me the next day.

  Worried if my attorney was reputable, Mom asked John to run a check on him to be sure no red flags emerged. I couldn’t even be annoyed with their skepticism, because they did it out of love for me.

  Just as I got into my truck to meet Chris for a beer, my cell rang and my heart halted at seeing Lori’s name. “Hey,” I said, trying for casual.

  “Hi. I wanted to make sure you got there safely.”

  “I did. It’s nice to be home.”

  “I’m sure,” she added wistfully, making me wonder whom it was she missed to cause such forlornness. “Are you still planning on getting back on Saturday?”

  “Yep… hoping to leave early to get home mid-afternoon so I can still play at Hops.”

  “Is it too much for you if I booked LRV’s jet for Sunday late-afternoon? Louis would now like to meet with us on Monday morning.”

  “Not a problem. I have nothing scheduled for Sunday, so I can sleep in.”

  “Okay, good. We’ll fly back after the meeting.” Silence fell between us until she added, “Well, enjoy your visit and drive safely.” Before I could thank her, she hung up, leaving me thinking of her once again… I hadn’t since the drive to Arizona.

  My family tended to consume my thoughts and time whenever I was home. But now, thanks to her call, I wondered what she did when she wasn’t in agent mode. Being her only client meant she couldn’t have much to do yet. Being new to Los Angeles meant she couldn’t have many friends either. So what was it that Lori Banzini did in her spare time?

  Twisting the key, I reversed my truck out of the driveway. By the time I hit the main road on my way to meet Chris I was very late. When I walked into my favorite pub fifteen minutes later, nostalgia hit me like a wrecking ball. The Place… yes, that was its name… hadn’t changed at all. Even the faces dotted around the joint were the same, and some of them lifted their heads in greeting as I walked past.

  Senior year, my friends and I had this brilliant idea to introduce ourselves to the owner and claim we were starting a neighborhood help program. We’d offered to throw out the trash, wipe down tables, and sweep floors. All we’d requested in return was a glowing recommendation to put on our college transcripts.

  Georgie Boy, as his customers called him, had bought our lie hook, line, and sinker. By the time he’d discovered it was just a way for us to sneak some beers out in our backpacks, he liked us too much to get angry. Boys just being boys, he had said as he lined us up in the back room for a good tongue-lashing.

  From that day on, he’d made sure to keep us all busy to make up for the brews we’d pocketed over time. Occasionally he allowed us to have a beer, but only after the doors were locked up for the night while we cleaned up the bar. We’d all gotten our recommendations, as well as one from a few of his buddies on the city council.

  Once my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I spotted Chris talking to George and lifted a finger to my lips when the old man glanced my way.

  “Get the fuck off my stool, asshole,” I grumbled low and menacing near Chris’s head. He swung around and the fury dropped off his face when he saw that it was me.

  “You fucker,” he said, hopping off the seat and grabbing me in a bro hug. “How’ve ya been?”

  “Great.” Once we separated, I plopped on the empty stool beside him and shook George’s hand across the bar. “I see you still haven’t put any of your profits back into the joint.”

  “Why bother? These tools come whether the place is covered in horseshit or rose petals.” Without even asking what I wanted, he filled a mug from the tap and slid it toward me. “First round is on me.”

  “Thanks, GB.” Lifting it toward Chris, he mimicked with his and tapped my mug. “Good to see you.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a while. What’s new in Phonywood?”

  I chuckled at his go-to nickname for LA. “You know, same old… same old.” Not wanting to jump right into my news, I deferred and asked, “Whatcha been up to?”

  His dark eyes darted away for a brief second. “A lot. Things have been nuts around here.”

  Maybe it was the look on his face that worried me enough to ask, “You okay, dude?”

  “Yeah… yeah. I’m fine,” he replied, looking down into his beer. This wasn’t like him, and I wondered what his problem was. Normally Chris would be bouncing in his seat, waiting to catch me up on the lowdown in Surprise. The guy was like the mayor, only more popular. Coming from a prominent family, the Wilsons practically owned most of the businesses in town. His father had inherited it all from Chris’s grandfather, and Chris was expected to take over some day as well.

  Being a bigshot, as my other friends and I called him, made Chris a target with all the females in school. Even taller than me, the guy looked like a younger Michael Jordan—and was just as talented on the basketball court.

  “Mom missed you at dinner tonight,” I admitted, giving him an out. “And the twins squared all say hi.”

  “John pulled me over the other day to bust my balls. Until I knew it was him, he scared the shit out of me.”

  I chuckled. “Why, were you high?”

  “Ha ha,” he grumbled. It was something his grandfather always accused Chris of being, even though he never touched the stuff, claiming he was high on life. Yet he seemed anything but at the moment.

  As I watched him draw imaginary circles on the wood, I tried again. “Seriously, what’s up, man? You’re not yourself.”

  He met my eye and the levity in his expression disappeared. “Okay, listen. I do have something to tell you, and I didn’t want to do it at your place… which would have happened if I came to dinner, because it’s fucking killing me. And apparently I can’t keep it to myself anymore, which will be proven in the way I’m about to just let it out.”

  “You’re gay?”

  “No, jackass.”

  “You confessed to your dad you’re a Democrat?” I teased further.

  “Shut up.” His large hand pushed at my shoulder. “Can you get serious?”

  My mouth gaped open in shock. “Wow… asks the jokester himself. Okay, what’s up?”

  A pregnant pause passed, and I waited him out, my curiosity now killing me. “I ran into Holly.”

  That I was not expecting. At the mere mention of her name, my blood began to simmer in my veins. “My condolences.” My only regret with that chick was admitting she had been the love of my life. Looking back, there was no way that was love… infatuation, maybe, not love. Chris continued to stare at my profile but offered nothing else. “Where?”

  “In Tempe. I drove up for one of my fraternity brother’s birthday weekend.” Chris and I had both attended Arizona State, but while most of my time had been spent keeping to myself, he’d enjoyed the full college experience—fraternity, basketball team, studying abroad.
/>   “She was also visiting that weekend, and I saw her buying a drink at the Sun Devils’ game.” That didn’t surprise me. After I met Holly, any activities I attended were because of her. She dragged me to every party, rah-rah event, and game that she caught wind of. College for her was all about the social life. The humanities degree she studied for would be nothing more than decoration on her father’s plush office wall, because marrying a politician or mogul or maybe even a pastor was the only thing expected of his princess.

  The memory of her breaking up with me flooded my thoughts. It was a stifling day and we had met at our favorite bench before class, as we always did. She looked stunning in a cream-colored sundress that contrasted against her flawless mocha skin. I should’ve known something was up when those huge chocolate eyes avoided mine as she twisted her hands nervously on her lap.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do this with you.”

  No pomp, no circumstance, no warning. The night before, we were desperately hot for each other, like the next day the world would be ending. I mistook it for an all-consuming love, the kind you read about. I assumed it meant we couldn’t live without each other. I pictured a life with her after graduation. But on that wrought iron bench, as students zipped by getting to their finals, it was in that moment I knew the reason behind her desperation.

  She was cutting me loose.

  Never approve… different worlds… it wouldn’t work… were all shallow excuses she used to plead her case. I wasn’t successful enough, religious enough, good enough for Holly Nolan.

  Pissed like it had happened yesterday, I remained silent, forcing Chris to go on and say, “We met up the next day for coffee to catch up. She did ask about you.”

  “What? She made a mistake? She wants me back?” I scoffed sarcastically. As I studied his expression, the uncomfortable way he gripped the back of his neck prompted me to add, “She does, doesn’t she?”

  “She cares about you, Can. She wanted to know if you were happy… but you weren’t what we talked about.”