That night, when she finally stepped into the garage mid-song, all eyes swung toward her.
“Can we help you?” Sean sniped.
Jameson didn’t falter. “I asked her to come,” he said, deflecting Sean’s glare. “I wanted someone with an ear for music.”
She stayed. She listened. And she fell deeper.
After the final song was played, an acoustic rendition of Aerosmith’s“Sweet Emotion,” Daisy’s mother called into the garage and announced that dinner would be ready soon.
Also code for, “End practice before your father gets home.”
The boys packed up their gear and headed inside the house.
Their eyes grew like saucers when they saw the dinner Daisy’s mother had prepared.
It was traditional Indian cuisine, vibrant flavors spread across the dinner table: butter chicken simmered in a tomato sauce, basmati rice steaming in a bowl, and warm naan wrapped in a towel to keep it soft and warm. The feast was nothing new to Sean and Daisy. Their mother was, after all, part Indian.
“Wow, Mrs. Daniels, this looks amazing,” Lenny said, his eyes still wide.
Jameson chimed in, “Thank you for having us, ma’am.”
“My pleasure. You boys are more than welcome to join us anytime.”
Daisy liked the sound of that; she could get used to seeing more of Jameson.
“Yes, as long as they’re keeping that ruckus down, they can stay,” her father joked as he walked into the dining room.
Everyone sat down, adults at the head of the table and Daisy directly next to Jameson.
Out of habit, Sean, Daisy, and their parents joined hands. Daisy held out her other hand to Jameson and whispered, “Prayer.”
“Oh, right,” he said in understanding and took her hand.
Much like the first time they shook hands, Daisy felt the shocks of his touch as her dad began to bless the food.
Once he concluded with “Amen,” hands slipped apart, except Jameson kept hers for a beat longer, gently squeezing it before letting go.
They both grinned sheepishly at one another and then looked away, Jameson at the food being passed to him and Daisy into the angry eyes of her brother.
Had he seen the moment they had just shared?
Her brother’s glare across the table nearly undid her, but she forced her face to stay calm. She took the food that was passed to her and hoped to God she was just overreacting.
Conversation at the table was light and funny; even Daisy was surprised by how easygoing her father was being toward anything band-related. He seemed genuinely curious.
“I’m working on booking the guys a show at Bullets.”
“The bar?” Daisy’s mother, Dena, inquired.
“It’s a restaurant, too. They are only twenty-one and up after eleven p.m. But Frankie, the owner, is cool with us playing whenever, as long as we are bringing in the money.”
Daisy’s parents gave each other contemplative looks from across the table.
“I’m not sure how comfortable we are with that, Sean. Of course, we can’t speak for the boys’ parents, but…”
“Oh, our parents are just fine with it, and Jameson’s mum is chill,” Kyler said.
Daisy’s parents didn’t look convinced. Lenny tried to clarify. “You see, it’s different in England, Mr. and Mrs. Daniels. Pubs are similar to playgrounds for lads our age.”
