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His eyes return to the road, but their effect remains with me as I try to inhale.
“Can I ask you another question?” His voice is gentle. I raise my eyebrows, waiting. “Have you ever considered signing with a label?”
It’s the question I’ve been asked a million times, like people asking why I’m not on the big stage selling millions of records and touring the world. Sean already knows I’m not interestedin that life, so his question is more personal. The answer isn’t necessarily short, so I weigh how much I want to tell him.
“There was a time when I was younger I thought that’s what I wanted, or more that’s what my mom wanted. It’s funny, really. I’m pretty sure if she had her choice of talents to impose upon me, it would be something like Miss Tennessee or Best Society Matriarch, not music. Somehow, she miraculously embraced it and decided I should take it to a professional level.”
“I always wrote music and played guitar, but I studied classical piano from a young age. Someone saw me play and got in touch with my mom. I was so close to signing a deal as a classical pianist. I was young. They liked how I looked, liked my edgy take on classical music, and thought they could sell me.” I don’t continue, thinking back to that time and how close I was to signing away my life.
Sean breaks into the flooding memories. “What happened?”
“At the last second, I saw what my life would become. Walking away was the best decision I ever made. It set my life off on a completely different course than where I could’ve been headed. I would’ve sold myself to a world I don’t want to belong in.”
I shrug. “That life isn’t for me. People telling me who to be, what to look like, what kind of songs to write. I grew up with parents who wanted me to be someone else. It was enough. I just want to write and play music that comes from my soul. If I get to sing it myself, it’ll be that much better.”
“Good for you.” His voice is soft and contemplative. “You should be proud to know who you are and what you want and not let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I smile. “Yeah, well, even when I was slightly more agreeable, I still wasn’t very good at having someone tell me what to do.”
“I’m shocked. I would've never guessed that about you,” he deadpans, parking in his designated parking spot at the stadium.
“So, we’re still going with the ‘not giving a shit’ attitude, right, because schmoozing and falsities are not my forte?”
Sean laughs as he puts his hand on my headrest, angling his body towards me. “We’re definitely going with that attitude. These people can say and think what they want, along with everyone else. We’re here to solicit help in treating these kids and families to the best day.”
I smile. Somewhere between my house and this parking spot, all my nerves have dissipated. Knowing that Sean and I are on the same page makes walking into the unknown of this party a lot easier. I can just be myself, which is good because being anyone else has never really been an option.
______
Stepping into the stadium feels surreal. The last time I was here, I was afraid and alone and got stuck in the elevator with the guy who’s now escorting me through the halls. The very one I’ve been accused of sleeping with while he was committed to another.
When we come upon an elevator, we both look at each other. Sean cocks one blond eyebrow. “Stairs?”
I twist, taking in my surroundings. “Is this our elevator?”
He laughs as he keeps walking. “No, but I’m not risking it.”
“You don’t want to get stuck with me again, huh?” Those eyes, the color of the horizon on a warm summer day, move between mine, but he doesn’t answer. “If we’re going up twenty flights, you can wait for me at the top.”
We climb. Fortunately, it doesn’t involve me breaking a sweat. Through a set of metal doors, we arrive outside a large room that resembles the one for the meet and greet, only larger with a few high-top tables and chairs spread throughout. A bar is set up along one wall, and the food is arranged on long tables covered in white linens.
We stop just inside, and the party is alive with laughter. Groups are scattered about, and it doesn’t take long for Mr. and Mrs. McNeil to approach and welcome us.
“Sean. Ms. Parks. We’re so glad the two of you could make it.” Ed offers his hand, and we exchange handshakes and pleasantries. “We’re thrilled you’re teaming up for the event next weekend. It sounds like what you’ve planned is going to be a real hit.” The older man grins, and it seems genuine. “We hope to roll out the red carpet. What wonderful groups to support. Sean, I had no idea you grew up in foster care. This is a fantastic opportunity for these kids.”
As if a current radiates from him, I feel Sean stiffen.
“Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to showing these kids a good time.”
“It’s a miraculous story,” Mrs. McNeil chimes in. “You’ve made quite a life for yourself, given all you’ve been through. If you don’t mind me asking, at what age did you enter the system?”
I can tell by the look on this woman’s face she means no harm, and I don’t know Sean well, but I suspect he’s not interested in storytime.
“I was a baby,” he answers, keeping it short and sweet. Mrs. McNeil makes a quiet clucking sound of her tongue, pity filling her face, and I’m done with this.
“So,” I jump in. “Mr. McNeil, I understand you know my Gemma.”
He smiles, his bright white teeth matching his hair. “Yes. She’s quite something, that woman. I was stunned to find out the two of you are related. I hope she’ll be attending next weekend. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”
