I sigh and look down at my hands.
“Well, we’re here for you, you know that,” Rhett says. I nod. “Whatever you want to do, man. You want us to come with you; we are there. You want to do it alone; we got your back. You just tell us.”
“I need to think about it. I was thinking about finding him at work and going from there. But that sounds creepy. Then I thought to send a letter, but what if it gets lost in the mail? Then there’s social media, but would you believe it, he has no accounts.”
“Really?” Max asks, his eyes going wide.
“Nope. At least none that my PI could find.”
“Shit, that’s weird. How old did you say he was?”
“Two years younger than me.”
“I don’t know, dude. Has he tried to find you?” Max asks.
I shrug again. “Don’t know. I mean, not that I know.”
“You think he knows about you?” Rhett asks.
I pause. I don’t know if I want to talk about that. The last email I got from my PI, showed that he had looked up information on my dad not too long ago. But it could be a total coincidence. I don’t want to read too much into it. I decide to keep that part vague, for now. “I mean. It’s sort of hard to tell. He probably knows our band, so maybe he has some of our songs on his phone. Hell, he could have been to one of our concerts.”
“Damn. This shit is whack,” Rhett says.
“Totally,” Max adds.
We’re all silent for a long beat as we process it all, them with the news, and me with their reactions. “So, should I?”
“Give it a few weeks. Think about it. Because once you do, there’s no going back,” Rhett points out. He’s always the wise one.
I nod my agreement. “Valid point, my friend.”
“OK, is this heavy shit over, because I need beer and pizza, STAT,” Max says, breaking the moment. Max, fucking love that guy, but he’s seldom serious. When he’s serious, you know shit just got real.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s cool. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving. But first, I’m using your shower, because I’m sweaty as fuck.”
Rhett laughs as we all go into his house. Rhett orders pizza while Max and I shower. I let the cold water beat down over my back. I need to come up with a motherfucking game plan. I just don’t know what that will be. By the time I bring my body temperature back down to a normal level, I have decided to take Rhett’s advice and give it a few weeks to sink in before I make my decision.
And with that, I change into the clothes I always keep around in my car’s trunk and head into the kitchen to enjoy a meal with the guys.
Rhett pulls up his phone as I take a seat at his island. “What’s this about?” he asks, showing me the photo with Emma.
I groan. “Fuck. Yeah, I took her out. She’s pretty cool.” I decide to downplay it for now. I don’t need the guys razzing me about Emma. I want to take my time with her.
Rhett smirks. “Pretty cool, huh?”
I grab an apple out of the fruit bowl and hurl it at him. He catches it and grins widely.
“I do believe our little singer here has a crush,” Max says from the doorway where I didn’t hear him. I turn and give him the finger.
He walks up and sits down next to me, crossing his arms. “Try to talk me out of it.”
“Fuck off, Max. We aren’t twelve,” I mutter.
“Ha! I knew it. You like her. You want to marry her. You want to have little Gradys with her.”
I punch Max in the arm. And he feigns an injury.
“Whatever.” I feel my phone vibrate and I look down. I had a video doorbell installed about a year ago. I had started to get some weird mail, and someone kept leaving white roses on my doorstep. It creeped me out because that’s what was left at our home when my father was killed. I mean, lots of flowers were left, but there was a single white rose that showed up over and over in the months following his accident. Mom just figured it was a fan and never worried, but my gut always felt like there was more to it and that bothered me for years.
I don’t see anything on the video, just neighbors walking a dog. I put the phone back in my pocket.
“I should get going. I need to get some shit done on that press event we are having in a few weeks. Apparently, they want headshots and group shots.”
“Fuck, I hate doing PR shit,” Max groans.
“Damn, I forgot about that. Wilson set that up, right?” Rhett asks. Wilson Hawthorne is our publicist’s assistant. Clyde Gable had been our publicist for a few years now, but Wilson came on a few years ago and he usually sets up stuff for us. It’s a good thing. The band needs to stay in the public eye, but it’s also work that isn’t writing or singing, so none of us are jumping for joy about it.
Max nods. “Can’t we just write and shit and that’s it?”
Rhett throws a towel at him. “No, asshat. Unless you want to stop making money.”
Max groans again. “Have Blythe adopt me and then I can just live in her house and sing songs.”
I flick him off and push back from the island. “Nice try. It hasn’t exactly done anything for me.”
Truth be told, my entire inheritance is wrapped up into a trust fund that allots me monthly stipends. I get the remainder when I am thirty. And my mom, well, she basically is staying out of my way. She told me she’d cover any college expenses if I went that route, which I did not. I took a few online classes, but then the band’s popularity went through the roof and that was that.
I run a hand through my hair, which desperately needs a cut. I also need to work on some lyrics. We are starting to get a full list of songs written for the next album, but I’m our primary songwriter along with Rhett, and right now, I’m in need of at least one single and B-side song.
“Don’t go yet, the pizza’s almost here,” Rhett says as he holds up his phone to show me the delivery tracker.
“Fine. But I can’t stay long. So, Max…” I turn to him because I know the topic of Max and girls will get their attention off of me. Rhett and I tease Max for the next hour as we have a beer and some pizza. I glance at my watch after Rhett offers us a second beer.
“We could go down to the beach and have a lazy rest of the day,” he suggests. Part of me wants to say yes. I miss those days, but I also have things I need to do.
“I’ll see you guys later. I really need to get to work,” I say as I turn, leaving them both sitting around the island and watching me.
“Fine, I’ll drink your beer for you,” Max yells as I make my way to the front door. I grin to myself because I do love those two like the brothers I never had. I frown as I walk to my car deep in thought and promising myself that I’ll hang out with them once I have all this other shit sorted out.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma
I take a deep breath. I’ve spent all week preparing for this meeting. I got this. I let out the breath and open the doors to a small, trendy restaurant. I tell the hostess that I’m here for a meeting, and she immediately ushers me to a private area in a small awning-covered courtyard out back. The table she leads me to is separated from the rest of the space by a wall of vines.