She opened her arms. “Of course.”
He did hug her—it was very fast and a little awkward, but Pop was smiling big.
“This is… I can’t… you know…”
“Save it for the after-party,” she said, winking at me. “I know how much you appreciate it. And Max and I, all of us, we would do it all over again in a heartbeat.”
That was true for me in a lot of ways. I’d save Pop again and again.
And I’d spend these blissful days with Fiona over and over.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know it too.”
I was still leaning back against the desk, stunned. Fiona walked over and kissed me on the cheek. She didn’t have to say a word. I knew how she felt.
“We’ll head out there, get everything going,” she said, taking Mateo and Rafael with her. Pop followed, but not before Angela gave him a hug that made my throat close up. I looked at the ground, amazed that they’d found each other.
A second later, I was left alone with Angela. “If we crank this window open, we can see out over the stage and audience,” I said. “Want to watch with me?”
“I would love to. Your father is going to give himself a heart attack with speaking in front of all of these people.”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “Being the center of attention is his version of hell.”
I cranked the window open, shoved the desk aside. Angela and I were able to lean out. I caught Fiona’s eye in the crowd, standing next to her sister. Roxy whispered something in her ear that had her laughing.
“Pop is really enjoying spending time with you,” I said. “I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”
She smiled, looking pleased. “It was hard, opening myself up to love again. I knew there would be a great risk for getting hurt. But my husband told me often, when he was sick, that he hoped I was able to spend time with someone special again. Someone I could enjoy life with. I can’t say what it was about your father that drew my attention. But you don’t meet a lot of people in this world who are just themselves. And who love their family and their community as fiercely. He does what’s right because it’s right. And seems to me he never complains.”
I watched him setting up the mic on stage and talking with the band. The floor was packed with people, and the sign Mateo designed tied it all together.
“You nailed it,” I said, laughing to myself. “Pop is Pop, and he’ll stand by you regardless. He’s met your sons, right?”
“For family dinner,” she said, smiling again. “He was nervous but got along great with everyone. My grandchildren loved him. He’s got a way with children beneath that grumpy veneer.”
Max and me, we were always a team.
“I always thought so,” I said.
“He’s going to miss you, Max,” she said softly.
I cleared my throat. My chest tightened. “Yeah,” was all I could manage.
I checked my phone one last time. No missed calls, no voicemails, no text messages. I caught Angela watching me. “Pop tell you my mom was supposed to come tonight?”
“He did,” she said kindly. “Is she running late?”
“Probably.”
Pop was trying to get my and Angela’s attention, pointing to the stage. I gave him a what the hell look, but he didn’t let up.
“I think you and I are about to go join him,” I said.
Her eyes were sparkling. “I’m game if you are.”
We made our way down the stairs and through the crowd. Fiona was already up on stage. The second I got to her, I tugged her against my side, the two of us facing the crowd together. Angela walked right up to Pop and held his hand. He looked like he’d just been told he won the damn lottery.
“$72,000?” I asked, mouth at Fiona’s ear.
She was beaming, waving at the audience. “We’re an unstoppable team.”
“Without you, though, it wouldn’t have been possible.” I turned her head towards mine. Kissed her. “I mean that. You are the force that keeps the world spinning. Your parents, my dad, this place, we’re all so goddamn lucky to know you.”
Fiona flushed beneath the lights, beautiful and strong. I wanted to fucking press pause. Stay here. Silence the voice in my head starting to freak out.
Mateo said I wasn’t anything like my mom, but until two weeks ago I’d been just like her.
I don’t always tell you things because it feels like you’ve got other stuff going on. Important stuff. You always wanted to be like your mom anyway.
I didn’t want to think it. Really didn’t want the traitorous thoughts bouncing around in my head. The thoughts telling me I was only lying to myself and lying to Fiona. That men like me didn’t really change—and I’d be back to temporary flings and jobs I could leave the second things got hard.
Tomorrow night, things were about to get hard.
Concern appeared on Fiona’s face. She must have noticed my panicking. But before I could say a word, Pop grabbed the mic. The music overhead cut off, and the audience quieted.
“Hey everyone,” Pop said. They applauded for him. He smiled, shy. “I wanna thank you for coming out tonight. For supporting me, and The Red Room, pay back our rent. We raised $72,000, and that means this place isn’t going to close.”
The roar was deafening. Fiona was laughing, clapping.
“We showed this town that punk rock will never die.”
Another roar.
“We showed this town that they can’t take spaces away that mean something to us. To music. This city’s been fighting with punk rock since the seventies, but it ain’t over, and they didn’t win.”
The audience was going absolutely wild. I remembered as a little kid, spying out that window when I was supposed to be doing homework, watching people greet each other like long-lost family then sing themselves hoarse. As a kid, I knew some things to always be true, and that was that music made people happy. Simple as that. Sometimes, it seemed like this place was some kind of lifeline. Now, as an adult, I fucking understood that so much more.
“And we couldn’t have done this tonight without my son, Max, and Fiona Quinn, of course.”
Pop waved us up. We both took quick, cheesy bows before stepping back.
It wasn’t about us. Not really. But I did hug Fiona close, wanting to remember this moment.
“So let’s celebrate the way The Red Room knows how,” Pop yelled. Behind us, the band started up and the audience hollered. We shuffled off, swept into the crowd, and Fiona went to go dance with her sister.
“I’ll be right in the back,” I promised. I didn’t have to say it. I’d be waiting for my mom.
Fiona kissed my cheek. “She’ll be here. I know it. And come throw some elbows with me and Roxy when she gets here.”
Then she dove off into the crowd, hands in the air. She didn’t seem to have a worry in the world while the knot in my stomach was only getting tighter by the minute.
I checked my phone.
Still no calls.
39
Fiona
The Hand Grenades were tearing up their set, as promised.
My sister and I were in the very front row, just like old times, dancing and singing and jumping along to every one of my parents’ songs. The past two hours had flown by. I was soaked in sweat, my hair was wet, and I doubted I had much of a voice left.