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Dad nods. “Soren was the kind of guy who handled every problem before it fully manifested. It was his cool head and people skills that took me where I am now. He knew how to talk, but more than anything, he knew how to listen. ‘Kid,’ he’d say, ‘stop worrying about crap and pay attention.’ He also wouldn’t let me quit. I wanted to so many times, but he’d always find the right moment to ask me if I’d regret walking away.”
Is my dad that kind of hero for Blackmore?
More importantly, “You wanted to quit?” I can’t think of a single instance when Dad showed signs of being tired of music.
“Of course,” he says. “Many times. I love what I do, don’t get me wrong, but it can be hard. You know it. Having the right kind of people beside you when life’s tough makes all the difference. And having a mentor. Soren was great. A mentor, a helper, a brother-in-law. I miss him a lot.”
“Me too.” I squeeze his shoulder in support.
Mom nods. “So do I.”
Hal doesn’t say anything. He heaps more food onto his plate, but it’s clear by the severe lines around his mouth that talking about his dad is still difficult.
I take another bite. Having the right kind of people carried my dad through his trials. I didn’t make it through. Does that mean my family members aren’t the right kind of people to inspire or motivate me? I guess not since I won’t go back to it for them. I don’t think I’d do it for anyone. Either way, I can’t help wondering if there’s someone out there who’d help me feel stronger and more resolute.
“Why are you asking about heroes all of a sudden?” Dad wonders.
“Just something someone said last night.”
“Is it someone we know?” Mom doesn’t even try to contain a bemused smile.
“I don’t think so.”
My parents don’t know Blackmore, do they? When he talked about my dad, he didn’t sound like they knew each other.
“Someone we don’t know…” Mom throws Dad a meaningful look.
Hal texts me.
Hal: You did let Blackmore take you home. [winking emoji]
“Mind your own business,” I say out loud, confusing my parents and causing Hal to smile, this intolerable cousin of mine.
But I did let Blackmore drive me. Not just let, I asked him.
Fine, I was mad at Hal, but—
Oh, for crying out loud. Things will stay the same. Yesterday was a favor to Hal, one I won’t do often. Not at all, in fact, so it’s no use wasting my energy thinking about Blackmore. Or dreaming about him. We’ll never see each other again.
Track 6
No Less, No More
Jace
I spend all of Monday morning in bed, enveloped in a mental haze. Monday is report day. Our manager discusses business with our recording label’s president, and—
A sharp pain stabs my gut. Again. We are done. Once this contract runs out, we’re out on the street if we continue releasing songs like our last one. Despite knowing better, I went online to check the fan threads and social media. Nobody likes our recent single. The most encouraging comments are along the lines ofMeh, it’s okay.
Moping isn’t how I cope with things though. I need action, motion, something to get the blood flowing to flush out the gnawing feeling of impending doom, so I go to my guitar room to play.
Cables and pedals are strewn across the floor from when I was last messing around in here. I spent yesterday helping Gabe, Juliette’s father, fix his truck instead of tidying up. Between the streams of curses intended for the misbehaving alternator and grease on my fingers, my thoughts kept going back to Laurel.
I pick up the cables and coil them before I put them away. It took all I had to let go of the mystery and drive away Saturday night with nothing but that simple nice-to-meet-you for a goodbye. I had to prove her wrong. Not everyone is out to get her. It’s not always about her father either. I may be biased. I already know him. But there’s something about Laurel that makes me think it’s a shame she hides. The glimpses I caught of her fiery temper tantalized me with promises of excellent banter—
My phone buzzes, and I scoff at the message.
Snake Boy: Meet me at Guardian of Rock at five. I’ve got display models.
