“I want us all to be together in this venture,” he said, reaching out to Lon.He needed his friend’s support.“We can work out the details together.I may not have much after this, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Same,” Alex said at the exact moment Brands said, “I’ll assist too.”
Lon stared at his bowl, his voice shaky.“I don’t know where it all went.”
Ry stood up.“Thank you.I want us to have a future together where we can all thrive.If this means dismantling what we have for that chance, I’ll take it a hundred times.”
His eyes stung with unshed tears as a powerful rush of weightlessness overcame him.With trembling legs, he headed to the kitchen.The scent of sweet, ripe strawberries filled the air as he pulled out the strawberry shortcake, Lon's favorite, its creamy frosting gleaming under the light.He grabbed a few cans of Obsidian coffee, their metallic chill cool against his palms, and placed them all on the tray with a soft clatter, ready for the group.
“I was hoping to win you over with words, but just in case,” he said, setting the plate down on the table.
“You dog,” Lon said, his laugh wet and choked.“Bribery!”
Brand laughed.“I see now.”
“What about me?”Alex huffed and crossed his arms.
“That’s what the ramen was for,” Ry said, winking.
They finished eating dessert, and then the conversation turned to strategy.Lon seemed to come alive under the plans, his ideas gaining steam.They discussed finances, lyrics, and music.Everything had been a success.However, Ry wanted to talk to one more person before setting all of it in motion, and he still had a week to spare before the meeting with Arend.
?
The plane landed, and Ry jolted upright from his light doze.His heart stuttered and jumped, settling as he gazed out the window to the tarmac and airport beyond.He steadied himself before grabbing his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder.“You’ve got this,” he whispered to himself as he stepped onto the jet bridge and into the familiar carpet.
The cool, cloudy weather of Portland reminded Ry of London, only cleaner and warmer.A car waited for him outside the terminal.The driver gave him a nod as he got in, but otherwise kept to himself, with his own bubblegum pop playing.The massive Oregon forest welcomed him home as they traveled along the freeways and streets he’d grown up on.
Once they’d arrived at the estate, Ry thanked the man.The car crunched over gravel as it left the driveway.His father stood on the porch, wearing dark jeans and a sweater.His hair had turned completely silver.When had he gotten so old?
Ry took a deep breath and walked toward him.
“Good morning, Orion,” Royce said.“Come in.”
His dad led him to the kitchen.The housekeeper doubled as chef when necessary.His father had live-in help to take care of the home when he was out of town on business.For now, Congress was on recess.His dad grabbed a plate of egg whites and fruit, swiping a fresh blueberry scone, probably made for Ry.With a steaming mug of coffee, he moved to his place at the table.
Ry followed, grabbing a couple of scones, some eggs and bacon, and wondered when his dad had changed his diet.“So, no good stuff?”Ry said, motioning to the selection.
“Afraid not,” his father said, a bit ruefully.“Not allowed to with this new diet to lower my blood sugar and cholesterol.”
Ry sat down across from him, more concerned than he had been.Perhaps he could see his father for who he was rather than who Ry wanted him to be.
“Well,” Ry began, his words running away.“To start, I’m sorry for letting you down by going to rehab.”
Royce waved his hand, as his mouth was full until he could speak.“No, no.It obviously did some good.And thank you for the letter.You’ve grown a lot.”
Ry ate and thought about what to say next.“I’m also here to let you know some things before they hit the news.”
Royce looked at him, waiting.
Ry took a deep breath.“I’m quitting Ghostfire, getting out of my contract, and will wait it out a couple of years.”
“And?”
Ry chuckled.“And there might be a campaign to slow or stop sales and plays.”
“Smart boy,” his dad said, grinning.“I suppose some of that political training helped, no?”
“A bit,” he admitted.“Just so you’re prepared for the inevitable news cycle when it hits.Could give you something to yell about at work.”
