by Lisa Gillis
“It’s good to see you, Mom.”
Rounding the car, he met Jack at the front grill and the two men heartily clasped.
Men.
She realized whatever had happened to their son in the few months, he’d been gone, he’d returned a man. The look in his eyes was self-assured, mature.
Bending into the backseat, she grasped the takeout bags and straightened, using her hip to push the door closed. Immediately J.J. returned to her side, relieving her of the handfuls.
In all probability, it was him being the solicitous gentleman they’d raised him to be. But he passed it off with a humorous lift of his brows when seeing the famous logo on the sacks. “Mmh. Yum. I’ll help you with that, Mom!”
They entered the house by way of the kitchen. Jack immediately dropped to a chair on the serving side of the island. She sent him a look, worried because he’d tired that fast, but he was grinning with J.J. as they unpacked the sacks while guessing how many pancake flavors she’d ordered.
Munching on bacon, J.J. settled into a seat and looked up. “When will June Bug and Zee Angel be here?”
“They’re on their way,” she assured, passing them forks and setting up four more place settings.
“Yes! Blueberry syrup!” J.J. exclaimed as if he were six, and she paused in her napkin folding to enjoy his smile.
Any conversation more important than syrup flavor seemed to be mutually saved for later—after the family reconciliation meal.
June and Zoë’s steps clattered through the hall moments before they entered the kitchen and hurled themselves on their brother. Matt and Jules stood back for several impatient seconds, giving the siblings a moment before bear hugging their grandson.
Although the breakfast bar seated six comfortably, all eight of them crammed together, happily bumping elbows as they ate.
Jules helped her clear the kitchen, and Matt was head to head, speaking quietly with Jack for a bit—hopefully reinforcing on him the importance of following the doctor’s orders to the letter. Afterward they left, and she and Jack watched J.J. play a few video games with the girls before drawing him to the side while the little ones continued play.
“Tell us about the band. The record deal. The tv show. Everything.”
“The band is Splynter. There are four of us in it. One night—
“Wait…” Jack held up his hand. “If you don’t mind, start at the beginning. Is this why you took off? To audition for that band?”
Chapter 50
Generation Non Gaps
When my dad says it like that, I feel like shit. As if I could have told them about Splynter. But he knows better. They were dead set on sending me to college.
Steeling myself against any censure that I might see in either of their faces, I tell them the truth. Not about the trip being moral support to a girl I only knew from online. But the deeper truth. The same confession I’d made in the email the day I left. But I expand on all the feelings that came with being Jack Storm Junior. And yet the confusion, because as much as I hate the comparison, I still felt a calling to follow in the footsteps of my father.
To my surprise, my mom remains quiet, and my dad occasionally nods as if he understands perfectly.
Neither of them bat an eye when I admit I had a faux Facebook account and that I’d often used it to get away from the reactions I’d get when Tristan Loren was Googled.
“I started doing what you and Pop Pop do. I was finding prospective bands online.”
My dad nodded because I had recommended a couple over the years.
“That’s how I found Splynter. Only Sash and I started tweeting back and forth, and I found out they didn’t consider their band complete. They wanted to add a guitar. The more I talked to her, the more we bonded. Eventually I decided I wanted to try out. As their guitarist. But without them knowing… Well, without them knowing who I am.”
I risk a look and find my dad still seemingly understanding. My mom is holding the same stoic look on her face. I can tell now she’s holding herself together enough not to freak out and interrupt, despite whatever she’s thinking.
“I want you guys to know I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how else to do it.”
“To get your way?” My mom finally breaks her silence. My dad’s arm is resting across the back of the couch, and I see his fingers subtly tap on her shoulder. Her lips press together and Dad tips his chin.
“Just get on with it. What happened?”
It’s a good quarter of an hour later when I wind up the story where things left off with Emma Dodge—Emily. Why do I keep mentally thinking of her as an Emma? I leave out my feelings and relationship with Sash. I explain that this week Sladen and Mark will be signing into the new band formation.
When I dwindle down, they stay quiet. Finally, I question my dad. “What are you thinking? Is this the craziest shit in the world to get picked up so fast?”
Again, I notice his fingers on my mom’s shoulder, this time in what looks to be a comforting squeeze.
“It happens.” He finally says. “I’d like to see your contracts.”
“Sure. You mean like now?”
“Yeah. Now. May as well.”
I spring up and sprint to my bedroom, and when I return with the manila envelope, Mom is no longer on the couch. I hand them over to Dad.
June and Zoë come out of their current game trance and beg me to play again. To deter them I direct them to my room. “Somewhere on my bed is a surprise for you.” I grin at the way the cat trails them like a dog when they take off running.
I unwind a little when my dad’s brows stop frowning as he reads, and his expression relaxes some in what seems to be relief.
“Pretty standard stuff.” He sets the sheets atop the large envelope without bothering to sheath them. “I’m going to fax it to our lawyers though.” And then he looks up, and in that moment, I recognize something has changed between us. “If that’s all right?” I’m no longer a junior incapable of my own decisions. I’m a colleague, a friend, as well as a son.
I nod. “Thanks.”
“So when are we meeting Sash?”
My eyes jerk to his face.
“And the rest of your band?”
The film of sympathy crossing his gaze tells me I’ve given myself away.
My dad’s shrewd. He’d probed and gotten his answer. But it hadn’t been what he’d expected. He’d guessed at Sash and I being together, confirmed it, but he now looks saddened that his question caused me to wince.
Not ready to discuss Sash, I put on a mask and tell him our schedule begins with L.A. in a month.
“Maybe we could fly out for a day or so. Catch up with the family there. Take your band to dinner. If you want?”
“Sure.” I shrug.
“J.J. It may take your mom a bit to get over this. And in a lot of ways, it’s going to take me awhile. But I want you to know that I know what it’s like to want to experience the world without living in a shadow.”
“Pop Pop?”
He nods, and I realize for the first time that my father experienced everything firsthand that I have when it comes to famous parents, bodyguards, and a public childhood. Even more so, because my grandfather never stepped out of the limelight until his children were almost grown.
Chapter 51
Smoking Apologies
Blue faded to purple, and then several seconds later red, and then green. All colors of the rainbow were covered. She tried to think how many nights over the years she’d sat in this very place, watching the hues change beneath the water’s reflection as she dwelled on her own reflections.
Her son was home, finally. And she was so relieved; she couldn’t be mad. Besides, during the time he’d been gone, she’d come to terms with letting go in many ways. She couldn’t control his life. He was grown. And he was smart. Sure, she thought he might regret some of his decisions, like not going to college. But all in all, he was intelligent enough to make them, regrets or not. And who’s to say he wouldn
’t go to college later?
What was ironic was that she’d worried about him coming to physical harm, and he’d come home emotionally hurt. She could see the sadness in his eyes.
Sash. She mulled the name Jack had given her. The woman in the band he was now a part of. Was Sash the cause of the melancholy expression he sometimes wore?
Next, she had worried about a recently released convict. A man who had threatened her son, sight unseen, over a decade ago. When who she actually should have worried about was Emmajesty bitch.
The shadow falling over her own startled her. She coughed, struggling to recover her breath as J.J. looked on in concern.
“Sorry, Mom. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She absently waved an absolving hand.
He waited until she’d had several sips of her iced tea and was no longer strangling. “When did you start smoking?”
“I didn’t. Not really. I just keep them out here for… sometimes…” Before she finished the sentence, she silently grasped just how many packs she’d bought, and that she’d been smoking nightly for the last few months. Since that night on the balcony in Destin.
J.J. took a seat by the edge of the pool. “I really am sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have taken off like that.”
“You did what you thought you needed to do.” Her fingers tapped at the arm of the chair as she tried to refrain from lighting another smoke.
“But I know I could have talked it out. Instead of avoiding things. I still could have gone.”
“What did your dad say?” Curiously, she wondered if this apology stemmed from a discussion with Jack. Had Jack told him to apologize to her? Or had Jack told him what he’d done was wrong? Because now that she no longer felt J.J. was in the wrong, what if Jack did?
“He said he understood. And that’s just it. I forgot he does understand. And I could’ve talked to him.”
“You’d be at Texas Tech right now if you hadn’t pulled that stunt.” She watched as he hung his head. “And while I feel you might wish later you’d gone to college, I realize it was your decision. I shouldn’t have made it for you. And I shouldn’t have made your dad stand by me on that.”
“I know you just want what’s best for me.” He repeated a mantra she’d told him all his life, and her heart cracked a little more.
“I’m not doing this. And you’re not either. No second-guessing. You made an adult decision because you’re an adult. And I’m respecting that.” She watched his feet dangle in the water. “J.J.?” Her eyes ran over his face, which was only a slightly younger clone of Jack’s when she’d first laid eyes on him. “Thanks for the emails every night. That’s the only thing that kept me sane though this…”
He left a trail of wet footprints when he moved to sit beside her, his fingers closing on her wrist. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I mean it.”
“And you heard what I said. Stop with that.”
“I am though. Sorry I made you sad. Sorry I made you smoke… And what’s wrong with Dad? He looks bad. Is it because of me?”
Pulling him close, she assured, “No, honey. He was worried of course. But he lost all of the weight because he wasn’t eating right for other reasons too.” She fingered his hair, unwilling to let him shoulder so much blame. “I haven’t been cooking as much. You know June and Zoë. They’re happy with whatever comes out of the freezer.” Truthfully, she made the admission, and then untruthfully closed with a lie. “And he’s had a client in the studio giving him hell, so that’s been stressing him.”
Standing up, she pulled him with her. “Speaking of food, let’s get those girls a snack and get them to bed. June has school in the morning.” Closing her fingers around the cigarettes and lighter, she paused. “Throw those away for me? I’m done.”
Chapter 52
Charger Hell
Dusty
TRISTAN DUDE‼‼ Todd’s little sister said your little sister said you’re home?
11:21 PM
The phone charger is not interchangeable. I’d tried to force it into the phone I’d used the last few months—the phone Sash knew as mine—but it’s more squared than rounded. Frustrated, I toss the dead phone aside and stare around my room. Do I have any charger that might work? Inspiration hits, and I open the phones up with the intention of switching the batteries, but they aren’t compatible either.
It’s just as well. I try to talk myself down. It doesn’t matter if I have texts and voicemails from Sash. She’s married.
Voicemail! I remember there’s a way to access voicemail from any phone, and I eagerly grab my working one. Quickly I punch in the number to my dead phone, and then interrupt the voicemail message with my code.
Sash’s sweet voice is sunshine to my soul, and at the same time, her message is just another reality check. “Trey, please call me. Let me explain.”
There. Does it make me feel better to know she’s as miserable as I am?
Yeah. It kind of does. But what is there to explain? I’d asked her point blank if she was still married. Nothing makes that right. Nothing. Right?
I eye my guitars, two keyboards, bass, and electronic drum kit. But for the first time ever, I don’t turn to music to numb my pain. I don’t even put my headphones on. Without bothering with the light, or readying for bed other than to pull my shirt off, I lie atop the covers next to Fredo and close my eyes. I really don’t expect to sleep, but exhaustion kicks in.
Chapter 53
I Spy
“Coming to bed?”
Marissa knelt behind the couch enough to drape her arms about Jack’s neck. Rousing from his slumber in front of the television, he reached for the remote, shutting it off.
“You take your medicine?” she whispered as they moved down the hall.
“No.”
Rolling her eyes, she backtracked to the kitchen. The pill bottles were hidden away from J.J.’s eyes and out of reach of the girls inside the spice cabinet next to the stove. She shook out the dosage and carried it with a bottle of water back toward the bedroom. Jack was still in the hallway standing just outside J.J.’s open bedroom door, and he beckoned when he saw her.
She joined him with a smile as happy as he seemed to be viewing their prodigal son asleep in his own bed… Her smile faltered.
“What is that?”
“I think it’s a dragon.”
After shoving the pills and water at him, she stealthy crossed their boy’s bedroom. Sure enough. A dragon rose from the waistband of his jeans, wings spread to just beneath his shoulder blades. Flames and musical notes flowed around the curve of his hip.
Entering his closet, she pulled a quilt from one of the shelves and returned, draping it over him, being careful not to completely cover the cat.
Jack remained, taking his pills while he waited and then walked her to the girl’s room where she repeated the bed tuck in.
Once they were in their own room, he turned to her. “I’m so glad he’s home, Mariss.”
“Me too.”
Chapter 54
Familiar Celebrities
Departures
Gate 43 Los Angeles, CA
I’m flying commercial. I’ve forgotten how much I enjoy people watching. It keeps my mind off the fact that I’ll be seeing Sash soon. If not later today, when I’m due at Emma’s office for some final paperwork, then tomorrow when arriving on set.
I never checked for more voicemails after that first night. It hurts too much, and I’m half-afraid what I feel for her will make me gullible enough that somehow she can explain away marriage.
As I make my way through one of the main concourses of LAX, I attract the attention of a couple of women my mom’s age. They stand outside one of the shops as if waiting for someone. The way their heads whip around, watching me walk and they lean to each other as they speak is familiar.
In an airport frequented by stars, people see stars sometimes, even when they aren’t there—even when they are merely doppelgangers.
Just for the hell of it, I shoot a
Jack Storm smile their way. Again, games like this keep my mind from its destructive pastime, but it only lasts a minute.
I glance at a flight board as I pass it, wondering when Sash, Sladen, and Mark are arriving. But mainly Sash.
I’m used to flying into LAX alone from my many summers with the relatives. However, I’m not accustomed to not having someone familiar meet me. Emma—ah Emily—sent me an email letting me know a car would pick me up. Fishing my phone from my pocket, I check my texts.
When I don’t see one yet, I worry that she gave the car service my other phone number.
“Excuse me!” It’s the second or third time I’ve heard the words from the same voice behind me, and I glance over my shoulder, realizing whoever it is might be hailing me. “Yes! Thank you,” she says when I slow. “You walk fast. Long legs like…”
To my dismay, I find one of the women I’d smiled at drawing near. This is about to get awkward.
“Long legs like your father.” She finishes with an embarrassed smile as she catches up and matches her steps to mine. Well, at least she knows I’m me and is not mistaking me for a Jackal age and time Jack Storm. “You ARE Tristan.” She draws out the verb with wonder and beams another bright smile.
I keep my rolling bag between us and continue to walk. This is my entire fault. Obviously, the woman is a Jack Storm groupie enough to know my name. I shouldn’t have played around by smiling at strangers.
“I’m sorry. You don’t remember me. I’ve spooked you.” Her smile falters and her lashes drop some over an empathetic glimmer. I slow my stride to study her face and feel a prick of recognition. “I’m Randi Gavin. A friend of your mom and dad. Although a bad friend lately. I haven’t talked to her in a while. I hope she’s doing well. Your sisters are keeping her on her toes, I imagine.” Her gaze is diverted by something beyond me, from the direction she had come, and she breathes, “Oh, crap! I told him that was a bad idea… I’ve got to go, honey. But you need anything—anything, you hear—you get my number from your mom!”