The show tonight will be shorter than the ones I did with Alexis, but I’ve filled in enough of her time that it’ll be alright.
I hope.
She never did return any of my calls asking to discuss the show with her and how she wanted to handle the rights to the songs she wrote for me. So I’m just moving forward under the assumption that she’s okay with me performing them still. But if I want to record them, which I do, I’ll need to reach some kind of agreement with her.
After a brisk three mile run, Brendan and I return to his front yard, breathing hard, walking around a bit to cool down before heading inside. He paces the driveway a few times before pulling his foot behind him to stretch his quad. “So you’ve got a show tonight.”
I nod. This isn’t news. He knows this already.
“You want us to come?”
My eyebrows fly up. “Do you want to?”
He shrugs and switches legs. “Sure. I’d like to. Lauren would too. But if it’d be weird for you, we don’t have to.”
I blink at him, still surprised. First Jonathan giving me a song, now Brendan wanting to give me actual moral support? What is this life?
“Uh …”
“Look, man. It’s fine.” He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender, playing it cool, but I can see a fine thread of actual disappointment. “Forget I asked.”
“No,” I jump in. “No, that’s not it. I’m just … I dunno. You’ve never been too interested in what I was doing before.”
He jerks his head back, affronted. “What are you talking about? Every time you’ve asked me to produce anything for you, I’ve said yes. I’ve cleared my schedule and pushed off paying clients to make room for you. I’ve always supported you.”
My mouth gapes open. I never realized he actually carved out time for me. I just figured he worked me into his downtime. “But you always acted like you were doing it out of pity. Like I suck.”
He makes an exasperated noise. “That’s because you were singing shit songs that don’t do you any justice. But you’re always so damn arrogant and think you know everything, that if I said anything, you ignored me. I was only ever trying to get you to pick something better. Not give up.”
I look all around, like the right response will come to me from somewhere in the blue sky or the big maple tree in the yard. “Why … what?”
He throws his hands up. “Are you fucking kidding me? You thought I was, what? Laughing at you behind your back? Waiting for you to fail?”
I look around again before refocusing on my brother. “Well … I mean … yeah. Kinda.” When he looks offended, I scramble to try to patch it up. “Not just you. I mean, I figured Jonathan thought that too. That’s why he’d never help me or pass along my demos. I figured you guys were happy with your lives, and I was just your annoying little brother trying to copy you in some way.”
Anger and frustration and something like amusement war for dominance on Brendan’s face. “You’re so dumb,” he says at last.
“That’s all you have to say?” I ask, my arms spread wide.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah. That about sums it up. Jonathan and I were looking out for you. Like we always have. Like we always will. You asked Jonathan to pass around your shitty demos. He didn’t want everyone to think you were a joke. So he said no. I tried to steer you away from your shitty song choices, and you ignored me. We were trying to keep you from sabotaging yourself. And then this chick comes along and singlehandedly gets you to pick better songs and start actually performing up to the standards we all know you can meet. I’m fucking thrilled you want me to produce an album for you now. I did it before because you’re my brother, and I’ll always help you. But now? Now you have a project I’m excited to work on. And Jonathan would’ve written you songs long before now if he thought you wouldn’t see it as some kind of pity handout.”
I stare at him in stunned silence. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say, ‘I’m sorry for being a dumb shit with my head so far up my ass that I almost turned inside out.’”
I let out a bark of startled laughter. “I’m sorry for being a dumb shit with my head so far up my ass that I almost turned inside out.”
He nods, satisfied, and stares at me for a beat. “So Lauren and I can come to your show? She’s been dying to see you live, and I have to admit that I’m excited to hear you in person so I can get a better idea of how to set up the studio to best capture your aesthetic.”
Shaking my head, I let out another laugh. “Yes. You guys can come to my show.”
With a nod, he turns and heads for the door, and I follow him in, bemused. Here I always thought my brothers were assholes who either pitied me or tried to hold me back. Turns out they were just trying to save me from myself.
What else have I been all wrong about?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Alexis
Nerves ride a tilt-a-whirl in my stomach as I approach the venue, my hand sweating as it clutches the handle of my guitar case.
I haven’t felt this nervous before a performance in …
Ages. Maybe one of those talent shows I was reminiscing about? The first time I played solo, just me and my guitar?
But these nerves are different. These aren’t about performing, not per se, at least.
These are about Colt’s reaction to me showing up at all.
Will he talk to me? Will he be mad that I didn’t call him back?
Some part
