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"Is it serious? You haven't known her that long, have you?"
I pull on my ear lobe. He's pushing because he wants me to be happy. I get that but I can't define what's happening between Falon and me. We're dating, we're lovers, and we're definitely becoming best friends. What do you call that?
"We hang out a lot. She's going to come to Philly next week to take some pictures of me for a concert Dita pulled together."
"I saw that on your website. I have a fundraiser that night. If I didn't, I'd be there for you."
My eldest brother is everything my dad's never been to me. He's willing to travel anywhere just to be in the audience. It's who he's always been.
"I know it. It's going to be a great show and at the end of the night, I get to spend time with Falon. It's shaping up to be one of the best nights of my life."
***
"I've been looking forward to this for days, Asher." Elijah looks down at the guitar case in his hand. "I brought my guitar like you said I should."
I glance at Falon before I take the case from Elijah. I wanted to kiss her when she walked in but I could see the hesitation there. I don't know enough about her relationship with her brother to know if she's comfortable displaying affection in front of him. I didn't want to risk embarrassing her so I hugged her, lingering longer than I should have.
"I'll sign it right now."
He doesn't hesitate as he places the case on the couch before he opens it. He pulls out a wooden guitar, the strings unmatched. The handle is worn.
"This looks exactly like the first guitar I had." I take it from him and crad
le it in my hands. "I bought mine used when I was thirteen. I still have it at my apartment."
"I saw it." Falon steps closer. "It's your bedroom, isn't it? It's one of the guitars you keep on those stands."
Elijah rubs his hand over his face, shielding his eyes. Falon reacts with a wince and a quick smile directed at me.
"I'll sign the back." I flip the guitar over and pick up a black felt tipped pen resting on the recording console. I know enough about guitars and autographs to know that it's going to be more valuable if I don't personalize it with his name. I sign my name, stopping when I'm done to look down at my signature.
Asher Foster.
It never felt foreign until I heard that voicemail. Ever since then, I wonder what my biological father's surname is and whether he has any clue that I'm his son.
CHAPTER 33
Falon
"He left for Philadelphia yesterday." I look back over my shoulder. "He has to do some prep for his concert there next week. I won't see him now until I get there on Thursday afternoon."
"Do you need an assistant for that?" Maya takes a drink of the iced coffee she brought with her to my studio. She brought me one too. I'm grateful. The air conditioning is, once again, on the fritz so I've opened the windows and propped open the door again in an attempt to pull in any cool breeze that may be out there.
I shrug as I turn in my chair to look at her. I've been doing production on some of the shots I took of the Bishop Hotel three days ago.
This morning I begrudgingly attached two of the already finessed images to an email and then sent them to the woman in marketing there who arranged the trial shoot for me. She was eager to see what I've done. I want to take my time with the last set of shots so there's no regret when I upload them to the private web gallery I created for the Bishop executives.
"My aunt lives in Philadelphia so I can crash at her place. I won't get in the way of your Foster fuck fest. I promise."
It will be a fuck fest. The other night, Asher and I had a quick kiss goodbye while Eli waited outside the recording studio for me.
We spent more than two hours there. Elijah's face was lit up the entire time with a smile as he played some of his original music for Asher. They worked on a melody together after that. Asher promised Elijah that if he uses the track that he’d get song writing credit. When he talked about contracts and royalties, I was worried Eli might collapse from excitement.
After we left the studio, I explained on the subway ride back to my apartment that it wasn't written in stone yet. Eli understood, telling me that it didn't matter if the melody ever made it big. He was going to work on his own new material, which is what he did for most of the night, strumming away on his guitar in the living room while I tried to sleep.
"Asher's manager did say I could bring an assistant. They're paying me enough for that. It would be great to fly there together."
I hadn't bothered to mention the job to Remy. I got a text message late last night from my sister, Clara, telling me that Remy is considering a move west to take a job as a production assistant for a webcast. I know that she loves California so there's no way in hell I'm going to stand in her way. I've started putting out feelers for a new assistant since Maya already has a job she loves.
