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“Say hello to Axl when you see him,” I yell, grabbing my jacket, motorcycle helmet, and bag from my workspace.
“What happened to the girl I used to watch the mom-and-daughter show with, huh?”
Peeking around the corner, I tell him, “Get over it. I still watch This Is Us with you every week. I even stacked up on the tissues,” I add, trying not to smile.
“I’ll always be on your team,” he answers. “But one of us should be in touch with their emotions here.”
Taking a deep breath, I give Dad my best “fuck off” stare, but fail when he bursts out laughing. He knows he has me there.
“I love you and your weird viewing habits. You did turn me on to Ride With Norman Reedus and The Walking Dead, so it’s all cool.”
This gets a smile from my father.
“But you’re still a traitor—part of the machine. Roger Waters would be so disappointed.” I put the helmet on, dropping the visor to underline my point.
“Love you too. And may I remind you this machine helps pay your bills,” he hollers back, laughing like a maniac as I slam the door shut behind me.
On the ride back to my place, the memories of the moments Navarone and I spent together in California come rushing back. He is the reason I can handle a motorcycle. My stomach drops thinking about the article in the magazine and the weeks I’ll be working with him on his new album.
I zip through Nashville traffic, stopping for a red light I curse under my breath when I hear one of his songs blasting from the car next to me. His voice hasn’t changed; it’s still as deep and husky as it was ten years ago.
“Damn it,” I growl out, revving my engine to the chagrin of the girl singing along to the lyrics of how we once spent the perfect summer together.
