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Funny how quickly they stepped apart at that threat. A wry smile pulled at Pres’ lips. Sometimes his brothers behaved like they were younger than Delilah, who was pointedly ignoring them, deciding her coloring book was more interesting than her uncles beating each other up.
“Seriously though,” Hendrix said, reaching over his dad’s shoulder to grab a carrot stick. “Hook me up.”
“Leave her alone.” Pres gave him a pointed glance. “She’s Delilah’s teacher.”
Delilah looked up at her name being said. “Are you talking about me?”
“Ignore us, sweetheart.” Marley shot her a wink. “Just uncles behaving badly.”
“You should go to church,” she said, shaking her head the same way his mom did. Sometimes the similarity between them was striking. “I bet there’s a bad Marley and a bad Hendrix in the bible, too. Much worse than the bad Delilah.”
Hendrix snorted. Marley shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.
“Yes, they should go to church,” his mom said, sending her two younger sons a pointed look. “All three of you should.” She lifted a brow at Pres. “Maybe then you’d learn some manners.
“All I’m saying is I think it’s time,” Marley said to Pres later that day, lifting his bottle of beer to his mouth. “It doesn’t have to be a big thing, but I miss making music with you. I miss us having fun at gigs together.”
Dinner was over, the table had been cleared, and the three brothers had washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen while their parents and Delilah sat with their heads almost touching over a jigsaw puzzle.
Pres’ daughter was now snoozing, all curled up in his mom’s favorite easy chair, her little lips half open as she softly breathed out. The rest of them were watching the sports channel – the sound turned down so that it didn’t wake Delilah.
“It won’t work,” Pres pointed out. “Having a kid is hardly compatible with touring.”
It wasn’t the first time Marley had suggested they get the band together again. And yeah, Pres got it. He missed playing in front of crowds. Sure, he still played a tune on the guitar when the mood struck, but it was a far cry from the gigs they used to throw back when times were different.
When he wasn’t a single dad.
“I’m not talking about touring,” Marley said, his eyes catching Pres’. When they were kids it was like looking in a mirror. But Marley didn’t have the shadows beneath his eyes that Pres had.
He was lighter. Happy go lucky. Pres loved that for him.
“We can play locally,” Marley continued. “There are enough places within driving distance. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“What am I gonna do, put Delilah in the backseat and tell her to stay there until I come back?” Pres glanced over at her. She hadn’t moved at the sound of her name. She really was fast asleep.
“We could watch her,” his dad’s deep voice intoned. “You know we love her staying with us. And the chances are it’ll be on a weekend night, so no school the next day.”
“Even if she did have school we could take her,” his mom added, her smile soft as she looked over at her granddaughter. “You know she’d love being here with us.”
Yeah, she would. Delilah was always asking to spend more time with her grandparents. This house was her second home, after all. But it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty. Like he should be able to cope with having a kid but he wasn’t.
“See?” Marley said, grinning. “Problem solved.”
“So you think Alex and Diana will come back?” Pres asked, playing for time because he hated letting his brother down.
Marley grimaced. “They split up. Diana left town. But Alex would be up for it. I know he would. He hated it when we took the break.”
Alex was their bass guitarist, and his girlfriend Diana had played keyboard. Her voice had added a nice tone to the vocals, too.
“We can’t play without a keyboardist,” Presley pointed out.
Marley shrugged, unfazed. “Then we’ll find one. I’ll put the word out. Put up some fliers. You don’t have to lift a finger. Come on, let’s try it. If you hate it, then we’ll stop. But it feels like it’s time…”
The way his brother said it made Presley feel like he was talking about more than playing in a band.
“Okay. We’ll try. But you have to take the lead.” He hated auditions. They were awkward and saying no wasn’t his thing. He did enough negotiations in his day job.
“Works for me.” Marley grinned. “You’re a poor judge of character, anyway.”
