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Chapter 15
Jet
Festive music filled Jet’s ears, along with the chatter of holiday shoppers, but it had the opposite effect on him than the one the songwriters had intended. Not to mention whoever had chosen the pop arrangements of popular Christmas carols as the tracks to pipe through the mall’s sound system.
Rather than putting him in the Christmas spirit– not to mention a buying mood– the tunes just set his teeth on edge.
The simplified arrangements and auto tuned vocals sounded, if possible, even more canned when fed through the mall speakers. He couldn’t stand it. And the occasional exclamations of, “Oh my God! I love this song!” from other shoppers were salt in the wound.
Damn. He would’ve expected that hearing music he liked– good music– would make him feel crappy because of all he’d lost. Of course. It would bring back memories, make him want to be a part of the action. But what he hadn’t anticipated was that hearing shitty music would do the same thing. Not because he wanted to be the one making it, obviously. But because it made him itch to get in there and change the things that, in his mind, would make the tracks so much better.
Yeah. He had to face it. There was basically no way that he could hear music– any kind of music– without it bringing up in his mind how much he’d lost. That might always be true. Only time would tell.
Fuck, isn’t that a depressing thought?
“Jet Valentine, with as rarely as you deign to grace me with your presence, I’d certainly appreciate it if you were here with me mentally during the few times you’re here with me physically.”
Grandmother Valentine’s sharp rebuke snapped him out of his stupor. He shook his head to try to clear the noise that cluttered it, both literal and figurative. His grandmother was right. He rarely got to see her, but he was here with her now. He should really be here with her, now.
“Sorry, Grandmother. You’re right,” he said.
She gave a quick, curt nod. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment, and then she continued. “Well? I asked you to tell me something I don’t know.”
Jet had to laugh. As a kid, he’d resented getting pushed around by the powerful matriarch of the Valentine clan, believing he knew better than her at every turn. Now, it felt sort of nostalgic. Besides, now that he was recovering from his life blowing up and examining a lot of his past choices in that light, he could see the wisdom in a lot of the advice she’d given him over the years.
Or commands. Tomato, to-mah-to.
“Let’s see,” he began, searching his mind for things she might be interested in. He figured he’d start with the biggest news. “I left my band.”
She stopped in her tracks and looked up at him, brows knit together. At first he thought she was shocked at the news, but her next words set him straight. “Son, I might be old but I am perfectly capable of using the internet. I said tell me something I don’t know.”
“Okay. Well. Leaving wasn’t exactly my choice.”
“Yes, that was a prominent point in the majority of the articles.”
He paused a moment to consider what to say next.
Fuck. Is there even a part of my life that hasn’t been laid bare for public consumption? Has there ever been?
He racked his brain to search for something, anything, to tell his grandmother. Something that hadn’t already been picked over by the vultures. It was harder than it should’ve been.
“How about this,” his grandmother suggested. “Let’s start small. How long are you staying in Valentine Bay?”
He shook his head, gave a rueful chuckle. “That certainly seems to be the million-dollar question.”
“I’d say it deserves a million-dollar answer, wouldn’t you?”
“Sure. I just wish I had one to give.”
“Well, I assume you’re going to be around this Saturday, at least.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t waffle, boy. You act like I’m going to make you pick me up at the airport or something. Ridiculous.”
He slipped an affectionate arm around her shoulders. “Says the woman who forced me to take her to a mall two hours away so she could do a little Christmas shopping.”
