Chapter Sixteen
Vic
Vic sat on the back porch of Grams’ house long after the sun had gone down.The bottle of whiskey in his hand was still sealed.He’d bought it without giving it too much thought, but tonight he couldn’t bring himself to open it.Not after the last time.
His thumb hovered over the contact on his phone screen.
Dad.
The number hadn’t changed in fifteen years.Vic had never deleted it.He didn’t know why.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he hit Call.
It rang once.Twice.
Then the familiar voice filled his ear.
“Hey, you’ve reached Rosie.I’m probably out chasing the next big thing.Leave a message and I’ll get back to you...maybe.”
The beep sounded.
Vic’s throat closed.
He hadn’t expected the voicemail to still be active.Hadn’t expected to hear that cocky, slightly raspy voice again.It hit him like a fist to the sternum.
He sat there for a long moment, phone pressed to his ear, eyes burning.
Then the words started pouring out.
“Hey, old man...it’s me.Vic.”
He laughed, but it cracked in the middle.
“I don’t even know why I’m calling.You’re gone.I know you’re gone.But your voicemail is still here like you’re just running late again.Like any second you might pick up and tell me about some gig that’s gonna change everything.”
Vic leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the dark yard.
“I met someone.Her name’s Bonnie.She’s...Fuck, Dad.She’severything.Plays guitar like she’s trying to set the world on fire.Fierce as hell.Won’t let anyone close.Reminds me of you in the best and worst ways.I told her I love her, and guess what she did?She kicked me out.Can’t say I blame her.I’m a mess.But I think...I think she feels it too.She’s just scared.Like you were.Like I’ve been.”
