Page 35 of Not the Punk

He groaned and sat up, taking the mug from me. He sipped it. “Glad you’re home safe, but you smell like fire.”

“Yep. That’s normal. You start on breakfast while I clean up.”

“Sure.”

When I got out of the shower, Joe was at the bar with a full plate in front of him, but it didn’t look like he’d started eating. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just moving slow.” He rubbed his eyes. “Come eat.”

I sat beside him, and we enjoyed breakfast together. “How about going for a walk after we’re done? There’s a park nearby with walking trails and a cool library building.”

“Sounds good. I could use fresh air, I’m sure.”

After breakfast, we changed into shorts, T-shirts, and grabbed some dark sunglasses. I slathered sunscreen on every spot of skin Joe had showing, then we headed out to the park. We could duck into the library if we got too hot, but LA in April was normally mild, not getting into the eighties.

We started by walking the trails. “It’s nice to walk around and talk out in the open. I love nature.”

Joe bumped into me. “Me too. After being on tour so long, it's refreshing. No buses, no stadiums. Only fresh air and green lawns and trees and shit.” He stretched with his arms above his head, and his shirt inched up, exposing a strip of his stomach. Damn. Everything he did was so sexy, derailing my brain. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Hmm…uh, oh, tell me more about your mentor.”

“Telly? Not a ton to say. He helped me out a lot. Fed me, clothed me, but the best thing he ever did was teach me how to play guitar. But, uh, I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

“Maybe you should call him.”

“I should. I will. Soon. But this time is ours, so it’ll wait until I’m back on the road.” There was still one more leg of the tour. He’d be flying out to Houston with Kay, Don, and Saxon, leaving me behind again.

“How did you end up with him? What about your family?”

“I have no family now. I mean, I have an older sister, Jane. But after my dad died, things changed in my family. I was pretty young, like fourteen. My mom didn’t deal with it well. She held it together for a year or two, but barely. When I hit sixteen, I’d had enough. I couldn’t help her, couldn’t do anything. My grades dropped, because I was skipping school all of the time. After a huge fight with Jane, I left. I had nothing, and I never would have if I'd stayed. Mom lives with Jane now, but they don’t talk to me.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but it had to be. “I send money now and then, but Jane never asks for it. Or thanks me, not that I’d want her to.”

“And you met Telly after that?”

“Pretty much. He couldn’t help me out a lot, but what he did was everything.”

“And playing guitar.”

“Yeah. He said if I had that, at least I had something I could make a buck with.”

“Sure turned out to be more than a buck.”

“Guess so. And I’m thankful for it.” We came to a small park area with playground equipment. “Look, swings. Can we go?”

“Sure…” Before I could finish my sentence, he took off running. He grabbed one of the swings and sat in the seat, kicking his feet. “Want a push?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please?”

“Better. Can’t forget manners.”

“No, sir.”

I got behind him and pulled him back until he was high enough that gravity would take over when I let him go. I kept pushing him every two swings or so.

“Woo-hoo.”