by Lisa Suzanne
Tyler chuckles. “Yeah. He does. But maybe it’ll be good for him, too.”
“Maybe,” I echo, but I’m not so sure about that.
CHAPTER 8: BRETT
The good news is that when I fuck up a song, I usually recover pretty easily. We’ve practiced mistakes so we know how to come back from them. It’s part of being a professional musician.
But the bad news is that tonight, I’m recovering more often than usual. I’ll catch some shit after the show, but whatever. I’ve got bigger issues to deal with.
It’s hot as fuck in here. We’re at an indoor arena in Phoenix in the dead heat of summer, and when you’re playing your heart out and beating the fuck out of your drums under bright stage lights for over two hours, it doesn’t really matter if you’re indoors or outdoors or if the air conditioner is at full blast.
I tear my shirt off between songs and toss it behind me—something I do every show to try to cool down, and just like most nights, it doesn’t really help. I hear an extra roar of the females out in the crowd who appreciate the physique that comes from beating on my instrument and the occasional run—sometimes the only way I get to see a city when I’m in town for fewer than twenty-four hours.
I’m not focused. I can play these songs in my sleep, sure, but when I’m distracted by some life-changing news, it’s hard to keep my rhythm intact. In fact, I’ve had to use the set list taped to the floor next to me four times. I should know the order of songs in my sleep, and this is the first show of this tour, so critics are watching. They watch every night, but opening night is different. It sets the tone for the entire tour.
It’s a hell of a night to be fucking up the way I am, but it is what it is.
And it’s during the second to last song in our set that a realization snaps in my brain. Tommy sings the words to “Evading,” a song he and Tyler wrote about pushing off all your responsibilities in favor of a good time.
For a long time, that was our life.
And even though we still sing about it, we can’t really escape anything. We can run away, and we can evade, but it won’t go away. I can push off this choice, or my own actions, or my decision on what to do...but it’ll still be there when I wake up in the morning.
I know what the right thing to do is.
I’m just scared to do it. I’m a thirty-year-old man. I’m not supposed to be scared of shit at this point. I’m supposed to be strong and stand up to my demons.
I get it. I know what I should do. But actually doing it is different. And wanting to do it is a whole other ballgame.
We head back toward the green room after the show. Usually this is when we celebrate. We pop open a bottle of something and get drunk. We party with whatever ladies we find. We have sex somewhere, sometimes at an afterparty if there is one and sometimes on the bus.
But tonight, none of the usual shit is in my plan.
Tonight, I need to talk to Hannah.
The entire time I was on stage, she plagued my mind. Where is she? Where’s the baby? Is she at the bar? Shouldn’t she have taken the night off? She just lost her sister. She’s got a kid she has to care for. That’s a fuck ton of heavy weight on one person, and even though it isn’t what I want out of life, Dustin’s words come back to me.
There were two people that created this kid.
Whatever happened, I had a part in it. Brianna had her reasons for keeping it from me, something that really only hits me now in this moment, but she’s gone now. She can’t tell me why.
But her sister might be able to.
Women are already waiting in the green room.
I bypass the room. Fuck our post-show traditions because I have something I need to do.
I wind through the hallways and find my way out to the bus lot. I climb onto the bus I share with Tommy, trying to picture what the hell this bus might look like tomorrow.
Maybe exactly the same.
But maybe not.
He’s going to kill me, but my hands are tied. For maybe the first time in my life, I feel like I need to make the right choice here.
It’s a little after eleven. I only left the stage four minutes ago. Sweat still slicks my skin. I’m still not wearing a shirt. I need a shower and a few cold ones, but tonight we’ve got a hotel to return to since we’re not leaving for our next city until the day after tomorrow.
That gives me over twenty-four hours to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do.
It’s not much time.
I can think on this from every different angle, but I don’t have time to. And so I act.
I press the Mousy Chick contact in my phone. I need to remember to change her name. I know it’s late, but she’s a bartender. If she’s got an eight-hour shift, she might still be working.
It rings five times, and just when I think it’s going to voicemail, she answers. “Hello?” Her voice is groggy.
“It’s Brett.”
She sighs. “I know. My phone has this handy feature where it tells me who’s calling. You should get one.”
I can’t help a tiny chuckle at her sass. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah.”
I guess I appreciate her honesty. “Sorry. Can we talk?”
She clears her throat. “About what?”
I blow out a breath before I say the words I spent the last two hours rehearsing in my head. “We leave for Salt Lake City the day after tomorrow and I want to bring the kid with.”
“First off, no, and second, the kid has a name.”
It’s only then that I realize I haven’t actually used his name...not even in my own head. I guess it makes him less real that way, but this appears to be a reality I need to deal with. I’m just trying to figure out how.
“What do you mean, no?” I ask instead of responding to the second part.
“Pretty much exactly what I said.” She sounds tired, yet she isn’t backing down from this fight.
Something about that is...I let that thought go. It’s nothing. It can’t be anything. She’s a decade younger than me and she’s my son’s aunt and there’s way too much that’s complicated about this situation. Her tight jeans that showed off her pretty little ass flash through my mind, and I shake the thought away.
“You can’t just take him away from me,” she says. “I’m all he has left...and, well, he’s all I have, too.” Her voice breaks a little on the last part, and a pang hits me right in the guts for everything this poor girl has lost over the last few days.
“Then you come, too,” I say before I have a chance to think it through.
She’s quiet a beat, and then she says, “I can’t. I’m in the middle of a semester. I have a job. I have an apartment. I can’t just pick up and leave. There are too many logistics to think about.”
“So I’ll fund online courses and you can keep working toward your degree. I’ll need someone around here to care for the kid—er, um, for Chance, and I can pay you to be his caretaker.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Her tone is full of skepticism.
“Is it?” I ask, and maybe she’s right. I should’ve thought this through more. “You got some better offer?”
“You’re not used to anyone telling you no, are you?”
The truth is no. I’m not. But I’m not about to admit that to this chick, and since she’s here with boxing gloves on, I pull mine on for a jab, too. “Look, you’re the one who came to my meet and greet to tell me what was going on, which, by the way, I still have many questions about. But the point is you looked me up. You found me, crashed into my life with this news, and you also told me what my options are, options that are seemingly pretty limited. I can’t bow out of this tour, and you want to be close to the kid—to Chance—so this is what I’m offering. Take it or leave it. The ball’s in your court.”
She heaves out a long breath. “I’ll think it over. I have class early in the morning but I’ll get back to you after.”
“Fine,” I say, and then, to be a little more gentlemanly after what�
��s been a fairly rocky start, I add one more thing. “If you want to make arrangements for your sister, please allow me to pay. Whatever the cost.”
“Thank you,” she says meekly, and then she ends the call there.
So after an entire night of wrestling with what the fuck I’m supposed to do, that’s where we leave it.
I still don’t have answers.
But at least I’ve done my part.
And now comes the really fun part: telling Tommy that I offered a stranger and a kid a free trip on our bus.
CHAPTER 9: HANNAH
Another day of me being a terrible student, but at least I attended class and didn’t dart out in the middle of it today. I drop my bag on the kitchen table at home before I head next door to pick up the baby from Dottie, and I take just a second in the apartment by myself.
I read over Brie’s letter to me one more time.
I wrestled with this decision all morning. If I leave here, I’m leaving everything I’ve ever known. I’m leaving behind my sister.
But if I don’t, well...I’m not fulfilling her final wishes. I’m not living by her code that life goes on.
I wander over to the bookshelf filled with photos—mostly photos I took. I picked up a love of photography a long time ago, and we scraped together enough pennies for me to buy a decent, used camera a couple years ago.
I taught myself how to use it with the magic of YouTube videos, and while it could use some refurbishing, it’s still in decent shape. I smile at one photo of Chance with Brie, the one I printed for her birthday present just a few weeks ago.
She’s holding him up in the air, and her eyes are crinkled at the corners with so much love and happiness. It was only two months ago that I snapped this photo at the park. They both look so happy—huge smiles on their faces, and it was a frozen moment in time I captured. Chance won’t have memories of his mother, but he’ll have this photo. At least I gave him that much.
I brush away the tears that tip over. I have to hold it together for Chance. If he sees me crying, he might start crying, too. He already misses his mom.
I do, too.
I draw in a deep breath and head next door to pick him up. I knock on the door a few times, but nobody answers.
“Dottie?” I call.
Nothing.
My heart rate picks up speed just a smidge, but I’m sure everything’s fine.
“Dottie?” I call a little louder this time.
Still no answer.
I pound on the door a little harder.
Nothing.
What the hell?
I try the knob, and the door opens. In a split second, I curse the security around here just as I find Dottie asleep on her easy chair and Chance crawling around on the floor. He’s knocked over a vase, and the little glass marbles that were in the bottom of it are all over the floor around him.
He holds one in his hand, and it’s halfway to his mouth when I yell, “No!”
I rush over to him and bat the marble out of his hand. He immediately starts crying because he thinks I’m being mean rather than saving his life, and that’s when Dottie decides to wake up. She squints at me for a beat and seems pretty foggy.
“Thanks for watching him,” I say snidely, and then I take the baby and dart out of Dottie’s place.
I don’t hide the tears this time—I can’t as I realize that I could’ve just lost Chance simply because of our circumstances. Life isn’t fair, but I can’t dwell on that. Instead, I realize how very much we can’t live like this.
This isn’t working.
It looks like I have exactly one option.
I pick up my phone to call him, but I realize I don’t know what the hell to say. I decide to get to packing while I think it over. I take Chance into my bedroom with me, mumbling about how I can’t do this. I swipe at the tears that continue to fall while Chance crawls around the small area between my bed and my dresser. I pull out the old suitcase Brie and I have shared for years—the same one that made the trip to Poland with Brie and now will make the trip across the US with me—and start tossing my clothes into it. It’s a meager collection, not enough to even fill the small suitcase, but I realize I don’t really need much and I probably won’t have much room anyway.
I have no idea how this is going to work. The logistics make no sense to me, but I was offered something and my only option is to take it.
He’s the one who offered. He can help figure it out. And if I hate it, hate him, hate everything, well, surely it’s temporary and then I’ll walk away with a little more cash in my pocket to try to find a better situation. And hopefully I’ll still end up with Chance in my life.
A few days ago, I didn’t think I’d need to worry about any of this. And then a distracted driver changed the entire course of my life. Of Chance’s life. Of Brie’s life, a life taken far too soon. Maybe even of Brett’s life, and the other men in Brett’s band, and who knows who else and what sort of ripple effect each and every decision any of us make might have?
I’m getting deep in my own head.
I still need to plan some sort of goodbye for my sister, but between school, work, and Chance, I haven’t had a moment to really think about it. I’ll take Brett’s offer to pay for it, but pay for what, exactly? The paper she left behind with her intentions for her son doesn’t mention anything about her final wishes. It’s not something we ever talked about.
We’ll do a burial, I suppose.
I can’t believe I’m weighing whether to bury my sister or not.
A fresh wave of tears plows into me, and that’s when my phone rings...a phone I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep without my sister’s full-time salary to pay for it.
I glance at the screen. It’s Brett.
I try to draw in a deep breath, but I feel like I’m suffocating.
I am suffocating. This is a lot of weight for anyone to bear. And maybe Brett can help lighten that load...or maybe he’ll just put more weight on me and make it even heavier. Only time will tell, but I can’t risk losing Chance because he choked on a marble while Dottie fell asleep next door because I can’t afford better childcare for him. My hands are tied.
I don’t draw in that deep breath since it won’t come. Instead, I simply accept the call with the word that will change our lives. “Hello.”
“It’s Brett.”
I can’t help a huff of a chuckle. I know who it is. Every time he’s communicated with me, I’ve known who it was.
“Have you, uh, made any decisions?” he presses.
“Yeah. I’ve made a decision.” My voice is soft as I realize that once I tell him yes, there’s not going to be any turning back.
But was there any turning back anyway?
Of course there wasn’t. It’s his kid. What choice did I have? Brie wanted to tell him, and even tried via social media...but she had no way of getting in touch with him or of knowing whether her messages were actually getting through to him.
It should’ve been her bumping into him at the meet and greet at her company’s anniversary party that night. It was fate when the invitation for the party arrived and we spotted the band who’d be performing. It was supposed to be her moment to finally tell him.
Instead, it was my moment to tell him.
“And?” he asks.
“I don’t know logistically how this is going to work, but we’ll—”
He cuts me off mid-sentence. “You’re coming?” He sounds surprised.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I took him with me to the bar last night for my shift and my boss wasn’t happy about it. My eighty-seven-year-old neighbor watched him this morning when I went to school and he was seconds from choking on a marble when I walked in and woke her up after class. I can’t do this. I can’t raise my sister’s baby here. It’s just not a stable, safe environment. I don’t have the resources to change it and I don’t have any other choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Hannah,” he says, and his voice is low and full of pr
omise. The fact that he’s the one saying that to me tells me that he has choices here, too. And he’s choosing to accept us into his life...for now, anyway.
“So now what?” I ask. “What does this all mean?”
“This is all new to me, too,” he admits. “We’re on tour for the next three months, so I guess for now let’s just see how it goes. If it’s not working after the first few days, then we’ll figure it out.”
Traveling the country with a rock band doesn’t sound half bad, to be honest.
I just wish it didn’t have to be at the expense of my sister’s life.
CHAPTER 10: BRETT
“She’s coming,” I announce.
Four heads turn in my direction, and I’m met with wide eyes from everyone gathered here in a huge suite at some fancy hotel in Phoenix. Karl’s here, too, and I’m late for a quick band meeting, but I had to call her first to find out what’s going on.
Tommy’s perched across one couch. “She’s coming?”
Dustin and Tyler are sitting in some chairs across from him, and Karl stands near some windows.
I press my lips together and nod. If anything, he’s the one who will be most affected by this sudden turn of events. He was expecting the party bus, and instead I’m inviting along a woman we don’t know along with a baby. That’s hardly a place for the drunken and/or stoned shenanigans we get into—or the sex, but Tommy’s not particular about needing a bed or about it needing to happen on the bus, just as long as he gets his.
“She says she doesn’t have any other choice,” I say, if nothing else to fill the silent surprise in the room.
“There’s always a choice,” Tommy mutters, and I can’t help but think that sounds awfully familiar.
Dustin, Tyler, and Karl are quiet, and then it’s like everyone springs into action at the same time. Everyone except Tommy.
“Amanda can help out with the baby,” Dustin says at the same time Tyler says, “Anything you need, man, we’re here.”
