He hopes—it’s like riding a bike, right? The guitar is Luca’s instrument these days; even though Jay had played when he auditioned, he’d long ago let it slide for the piano and the mixing console.
“Hey,” Gideon says, before slipping a hand into Jay’s for a brief squeeze. “No matter what…”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fucking die today.”
“Love you, too,” Jay whispers as the door opens, but Gideon is waiting for something, so Jay adds, “I promise.”
And it’s enough to make Gideon’s lips twitch in acknowledgment.
There are six people in the room besides Jay and Gideon. The kids each brought a guardian, along with Melody and a photographer/videographer.
“Jay Rhodes, this is Zef Viento and Omni Fuller.”
The kids are no older than ten or twelve. Zef is pale, and Jay remembers from the bios that he has cystic fibrosis. He’s wearing a giant Long Road Home hoodie that swallows him whole, and despite his air of illness, his eyes are bright.
Beside him is Omni Fuller, a tiny slip of a thing, her head wrapped in a scarf the color of a summer sky. She’s pale and a little fragile-looking—acute lymphoblastic leukemia, or ALL, has made chemo a constant in her life—but you wouldn’t know it from the way she beams up at him, pure joy radiating from every inch of her.
Then, like a rocket, she launches herself at him, and Jay barely has the wherewithal to catch her in time.
“Omni!” her mother admonishes. “You have to ask first. Consent is a thing.”
Omni freezes for half a second, then tilts her head up at him, eyes wide. “Is it okay?”
Jay chuckles, already hugging her back. “Of course. I don’t mind hugs from my friends.”
She grins. “Jay Rhodes! Can I call you Jay?”
“Yeah, Jay’s good. This is my—Gideon.”
“Oh, he’s cute,” she says, none too quietly, making Gideon blush.
Jay can’t help but laugh. “He really is. Why don’t we sit over there on the couch, and we can talk.”
The next hour flies by as Jay immerses himself in caring for his fans. He learns that Zef wants to be a chef, and when the boy hears Gideon owns his own restaurant, he spends more time picking Gideon’s brain than Jay’s. The dreaded guitar stays in its case, but Jay signs every album they bring, along with Zef’s sweatshirt, and they take numerous selfies and official photos. It reminds Jay of one of the reasons he loves his career. The kids are so bright—and brave—to face their illnesses with smiles and hope. He’s sure they have hard days, but there’s nothing like a brave child to put your life in perspective.
“Hey all, I’m sorry to interrupt, but our interview segment is up in fifteen minutes.”
There’s a chorus of disappointed moans and groans (mostly from Gideon, who has never had a fan before).
“Can I see your restaurant if I come to Nashville, Chef?” Zef asks.
“You can! Just get your mom to call me.” Gideon pulls out his wallet and offers the boy a black business card withQueston thefront, and Gideon’s cell phone number on the reverse. “We’ll set something up—anytime you’re in Nashville.”
“Sick!” He waves the card at his mom.
Jay wishes he’d been holding a camera when Zef throws himself into Gideon’s arms for a hug. The normally stoic man gives the boy a gentle squeeze.
“We’ll see you in Nashville, then? I need another sous chef who knows the difference between julienne and batonnet.”
“I do! I know the difference,” Zef promises.
“Thank you for coming today,” Omni says to Jay, and she looks sad for a moment.
“You’re welcome, but what happened to your smile?”
“It’s okay.” She shakes her head, but the smile she tries to put on doesn’t quite stick. And that—fuck, that breaks his heart.
