“This is what’s normal for me,” he says, nodding to the thing. “It’s how I provide you with funds like we talked about last night.”
“We didn’t really discuss this part of it. You mentioned it and I felt weird about it, so…”
He downs some more coffee, watching me carefully over the rim of the cup. But he says nothing.
“I haven’t had an allowance since I was sixteen.”
“Your mom cut you off when you were sixteen?” he asks with a frown.
“Yeah,” I say, inspecting the card. “That’s when I got my first job. It was at a local garden center helping to care for the plants.”
“You and Audrey don’t tend to talk about her much.”
My smile is a small and sedate thing. “We get on fine. But it takes more than DNA to make a family.”
“That is the truth. You’ve seen for yourself what a pain in the ass my brother can be. And Charlie and Audrey mean as much to me as any flesh and blood.” He turns to stare at the river. “This was my mom’s favorite time of the day. She would’ve loved it here. We were in a house with a yard when she could afford it. But even when we lived in apartments, they were always close to a park or something.”
“And every weekend she’d drag our asses on hikes in the woods,” says Angus, appearing at the kitchen door. “How many times did you touch poison ivy because you just had to know what would happen?”
“Only once or twice.”
“I remember it being more.”
Nash sniffs. “Artists need to experience the world in their own unique ways. It’s not something you’d understand.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. I heard what you said about me being a pain in the ass too.”
“How did you even get in here?” asks Nash. “Why are you in my house?”
“Charlie told me the security code.” He takes a seat at the table opposite us. “Morning, June.”
I give him a smile. “Morning.”
“Are you going to make me a coffee?” Angus asks his brother.
Nash’s dark brows draw down. “I am not. Junebug and I are having our sacred start of the day alone time. Go away. You’re not invited.”
“Been thinking about what you said yesterday,” says Angus regardless. “About you being burned out on stadiums. How you feel disconnected from your audience.”
“I guess you can stay for a minute if we’re going to talk about me.”
With his ankle resting on his knee, Angus makes himself comfortable. “The new songs are good. What if we did a limited tour and took them to smaller, more intimate settings? Say, venues with a capacity of a few thousand or so.”
“Since when did you want to work with me again?”
Angus shrugs. “It’s been a while. There’s a small chance I missed you.”
“By small chance do you mean big chance?”
“No,” says Angus. “It’s small. Miniscule some might say.”
Nash smiles. “What about your band?”
“We’re on hiatus.”
And he pauses to think it over. There’s a gleam in his eye though. He likes the idea. Which is nothing for me to panic over. He might have said he was sick of the industry and intimated that he wanted to retire. Odds were always good regarding him doing something more with music eventually. As Grandma has mentioned a time or two, it’s a big part of who he is.
Though the thought of him hitting the road again so soon is a shock. We need to talk about where it would leave us as a couple. Just as soon as I mentally rehearse a speech or two and find some courage. Talking honestly about legal status last night used up my available spine.
