String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

  Naomi had puzzled out a new Billie Eilish hit, which they ran through twice—maybe not smoothly enough to manage tonight, but later in the week they could add it to the repertoire. Jax ran them through Dua Lipa’s “Don’t Start Now,” which earned him an empathetic side-eye from Naomi. He thought Kayla might be considering sharpening a drumstick into a shiv. Then Rosa brought up Bieber’s latest pop earworm, which was brainless but fun and easy enough to play stripped down. They could add more complexity as they got familiar with it.

  Jax was banging happily away, getting into the feel of it, bullshitting the lyrics because the real ones were absolute nonsense, when the door opened and his mom stuck her head in.

  A few months ago, Jax would’ve faltered or stopped, but he was done being ashamed. So he’d never be Ari, and he’d never be his mom. He was having fun. His job wasn’t to be a musical genius; it was to entertain. And Jax was great at entertaining.

  When he finished, with an over-the-top musical flourish, his mother burst into applause. “That was delightful,” she said with a glance at them all, but her gaze rested on Jax. “I had no idea you’d gotten so good at the piano.” She gave a mock frown. “Where have you been hiding that talent all these years?”

  Jax played along. “Probably under my undiagnosed, unmedicated ADHD.”

  She smiled. “Probably.”

  Naomi glanced at her phone and announced practice time was over. “See you out there in five minutes,” she said with a warning glance at Jax. He pressed a hand to his chest and mouthed, Moi? She flicked her hair over her shoulder and swanned out.

  Kayla and Rosa followed, and Jax was left alone with his mother.

  “I’m sorry,” she said into the quiet, “for not realizing how much joy this was bringing you. You look so happy performing. I should’ve listened when you told me that months ago.”

  Jax stared hard at his hands. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  “I know that I tend to get fixated and stubborn—sorry for handing that on to you, by the way—but I still should have realized you needed something out of life that wasn’t math. I should have seen that need. I didn’t have two children by accident, you know. But I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that this”—she waved a hand about the room—“was a similar thing.”

  Well, that deserved a hug. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and squeezed. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a proper hug. Probably before he’d told her about MIT.

  As they released each other, his mother cupped his face. “Now, I think it’s time for you to go be fabulous.”

  Jax grinned and winked. “Christine, I am always fabulous.”

  He led her back out to the bar and watched her settle into a comfortable out-of-the-way table. Jax didn’t blame her; the chairs closer to the stage were usually occupied by the bar’s drunkest patrons. Or the flirtiest, his mind supplied, with memories of Ari watching him from a front-row seat. Jax pushed the image away. He couldn’t think about Ari and the myriad emotions he churned up for Jax: longing, love, guilt, hurt, resentment, affection.

  On stage, Jax pasted on his performer’s smile and bowed when Naomi introduced him. “I’ll be your favorite this evening,” he said into the mic.

  Naomi rolled her eyes and told the crowd not to encourage him.

  They were halfway through a duet adaptation of “Take Me to Church” when Jax spotted her. Fortunately Naomi was singing at the time, because Jax almost swallowed his tongue.

  Nasreen Darvish stood awkwardly at the bar with a glass of something that looked like straight ginger ale in her hand and her purse clutched close to her stomach.

  Jax fumbled the chords and turned away. He couldn’t focus on her right now.

  What the fuck was she doing here? Why come in now after she had successfully broken up his relationship?

  He ignored her until the end of the song, but as soon as the chords were done and the patter started up as they figured out the next piece, he couldn’t help but search her out. She still stood awkwardly near the bar, watching. Jax forced himself to look away and tried to catch Naomi’s eye—surely she knew Nasreen and maybe would have some clue as to what was happening right now—but mindreading was apparently not one of her talents.

  Well, fuck. He was a professional. Sort of. He kept his eyes on the tablet in front of him as they worked their way through some Taylor Swift. When he next looked over at the bar, she was gone. Jax’s shoulders started to fall, but they rose right back up when he spotted her again—sitting with his mother.

  Would now be a good time to hyperventilate? Why was Ari’s evil mother talking to his own?

  He felt like he was shaking apart, but his hands never faltered on the keys and his voice was strong.

  When they called for their fifteen-minute break, Jax stood on shaky legs and headed toward his mother’s seat, but as he locked eyes on her, he noticed she was once again alone.

  “Where is she?” Jax demanded when he got close enough. He slid into the vacant seat, and Christine arched an eyebrow. “The woman who was just here—where did she go?” He looked around the bar. The bathroom, maybe?

  “She left,” Christine said. “She said she couldn’t stay any longer.”

  “Did she say why she was here?” Jax demanded. Had Nasreen found Christine on purpose? If so, how? She couldn’t have known that Christine was his mom, surely.

  Her eyebrows climbed even higher. “Not really. Just said her son told her about the place and she was curious. I got the feeling it wasn’t really her scene. Jax, what’s gotten into you?”

  “What did you two talk about?”

  Christine shrugged. “The music, the band. I mentioned you were my son. She said you were very talented.”

  “She said I was talented,” Jax repeated in a weak voice.

  “Well, you are. I don’t know why this is so shocking.”

  He made a noise that sounded something like a dying buffalo mixed with a wheezing elephant.

  “Jax? Honestly, what—?”

  “She’s Ari’s mom,” he gasped.

  Christine went still. “That was Ari’s mother?”

  He nodded, winded. Jesus Christ, what had just happened? He might have thought she was there to check him out—exactly as Ari had warned him all those weeks ago—if he and Ari were still dating. But wasn’t a visit to check out a prospective son-in-law a little on the late side now? The barn door wasn’t so much open as burnt to cinders.

  “You know,” Christine said slowly, wearing her mathematician-at-work face, “she did seem very curious about you, even before I mentioned you were my son.” She looked at the exit. “I invited her to sit with me because she looked like she could use a chair. But I wonder why she never mentioned that after I told her who I was.”

  “Probably feared a mama bear,” Jax mumbled and stole the last of his mother’s drink.

  Oh well. He and Ari had already broken up. Whatever Nasreen was up to, it couldn’t possibly do him any more damage. Right?

  “Mr. Hall.”

  Wrong, Jax thought, almost choking on piña colada. He coughed, and his mother—because he was trapped in a horrible reenactment of his childhood—stood and patted his back until he could breathe. Jesus. He hadn’t thought she’d actually try to kill him. “Ah. Mrs. Darvish. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Jax’s mother looked between them for a moment. He tried to make an appeal to her—do not leave me, woman, can’t you see she’s dangerous?—but either she didn’t get it or she thought he needed to adult up. “I’m going to go powder my nose,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

  I’ll be dead, Jax thought grimly as Nasreen slid into the seat his mother had vacated. “You know, I’m pretty okay with where we left things. You really want to go another round?”

  For a moment she just looked at him, and Jax squirmed under her gaze. She had the same eyes as Ari, dark and warm. Too bad the personality didn’t match.

  “I didn’t see what my son sees in you,” she fin
ally said. Which, great, yeah. Duh. Thank you, Commander Obvious. “But he is not normally a foolish man. I thought I should take a second look.”

  Right. “Forgive me,” Jax said, meaning anything but, “but wouldn’t it be easier to just take his word for it?” Not that it would make a difference.

  “Since you don’t have children, I know that you can’t possibly understand how it feels to want to protect them, even from themselves.”

  “I have a niece, and I can’t imagine telling her that her choices are wrong the way that you do.”

  Nasreen didn’t flinch, but she didn’t argue either. Instead she took in his words and after a moment said, “Sometimes, when we are worried and care deeply, we do not make the wisest choices.”

  Jax snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.” They sat in silence for a moment. “So did you enjoy the show? Since you came to get a second look.”

  “It was… educational. Interesting too. You are very charming on stage, and your friends are very talented also. I found myself enjoying the songs.”

  “All of them?” He arched an eyebrow. “You enjoy ‘S&M.’”

  “Yes. Though not as much as the last one, I’m not sure of the name. I never heard it before.”

  Jax’s stomach wobbled. “Don’t Speak?”

  “Yes, that one. Your performance was very authentic.”

  If anyone else had made that observation, Jax might have tried to hide his broken heart, but from Nasreen Darvish…. “I think we both know why.”

  She inclined her head but didn’t say anything, which pissed Jax off. “Since you’re not here to apologize or even admit your guilt, why are you here?”

  “Curiosity.”

  Jax barked a laugh. “God, I probably should have anticipated the arrogance. But somehow I didn’t, even though Ari warned me. I guess I was a fool for giving you the chance to chase me away.”

  Her eyes flickered, the tiniest of flinches. “I probably deserve that. I love my children, but I can be stubborn.”

  “You know,” Jax said, angry but willing to give her this, “it’s too bad you hate me, because we have a lot in common.” Nasreen tilted her head in silent question. “We’re both dicks who love your son.”

  Then he stood and walked away.

  “EARTH TO Ari. Come in, Ari.”

  Ari pulled himself out of his deep contemplation. He was supposed to be deliberating the relative acoustic merits of Buffalo’s potential concert venues, but thoughts of Jax kept intruding. Jax had said he fell in love easily, and their relationship was over now. Ari wasn’t allowed to be upset he was seeing someone else seriously enough to do a grocery run for them.

  He definitely wasn’t allowed to ask Jax about it when he arrived to pick up his things.

  He took a deep breath and tried to engage his memory, but for the life of him, he had no idea what Afra had been asking him. “Sorry,” he said. “Coffee?”

  “Yes,” Theo said fervently.

  The three of them had been sitting at Ari’s kitchen table, Ari and Afra mostly planning a tour, Theo learning through osmosis while studying for his final exam, which seemed to be mathematical in nature. Every so often he uttered a curse under his breath. Ari could relate.

  “I was asking if you want to go to Tennessee,” Afra repeated. “Because Noella forwarded your rough cut, and you’ve got an invitation to play Bonnaroo.”

  Theo swore again; apparently Ari wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been paying attention. “Are you kidding me? That’s incredible.”

  It was certainly the biggest festival Ari had ever been asked to play. He tended to prefer low-key events, but he couldn’t deny that the opportunity to perform for an audience of that size appealed—if only from a professional standpoint. And maybe if he played there, his parents would finally realize he was serious about his work. “Do you think I should?”

  “Yes,” said Theo emphatically, pulling his textbook closer and highlighting something, though Ari couldn’t tell what the purpose was, because the entire page was yellow. Then he lifted his head again. “Also, coffee?”

  Ari didn’t bother pointing out that Theo was the intern here; he looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. Besides, Ari was fussy about his coffee maker. He got up to start a pot.

  Afra picked up the thread. “Do I think you should play one of the most popular music festivals in North America? In a word, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “We’ll have to reschedule a few of the other tentative tour dates, but it’ll be fine.”

  All right. Afra could work out the details. “Fine.” He paused and watched the carafe fill. “But… can we do a few smaller events on either side of it?”

  “Smaller ones?”

  He didn’t need to look to know Afra was rolling her eyes. “You probably didn’t notice last year because you weren’t on board for the actual planning stage, but Ari can only take large crowds in small doses. So when we’re planning a tour, we pick a handful of large venues and those are our tentpoles, and then we use more intimate concerts as stakes. Bonnaroo’s a really big tentpole, so he wants some really small stakes.”

  Ari took down a few mugs and poured. Afra took hers black, and Theo liked his to look and taste like caramel. He turned around to comment, but Theo was head down in the textbook again, this time on a fresh page with barely any highlighting so far. Ari put the mug down in front of him, but he didn’t even grunt in acknowledgment.

  Afra took her mug directly from his hands, and they stood together at the counter, leaning back against it and stretching their legs. They’d been at this for long enough that Ari’s back was sore. “Actually there’s a bar in Nashville that would be a great venue, and they’ve got an available slot…. Fuck.”

  Ari looked up from his drink to see Afra frowning at her phone, coffee forgotten in her other hand.

  “Problem?”

  She winced. “The date they’re available, uh… I was hoping to take a few days to be back here.”

  He shrugged. “We could get someone else in for a few days, have them handle things.” They’d done it before, when Afra had appendicitis on Ari’s first tour. He didn’t like it—Afra knew his quirks better than anyone, and he didn’t bristle when she tried to handle him the way he did with strangers—but it couldn’t be helped.

  “The intern could probably handle it,” she mused. “I mean, by then he’ll have one and a half whole tours under his belt….” Her leading tone and the use of his title didn’t prompt Theo to raise his head as he tapped the end of his highlighter under a graph that looked like an upside-down U.

  Then she sighed. “Except if we’re going to do this at a bar, he’s got to be twenty-one—hey, Theo, when’s your birthday?”

  “May third,” he said absently. “Hey, do you have any food?”

  “Depends. Are you feeling up to trying properly spiced food again?” The looks on Ari’s parents’ faces when he’d revealed he was twelve before he ate anything spicier than garlic had been priceless.

  “I will eat literally anything. I’m not going to taste it anyway. This textbook is all that exists.” As he turned the page, though, he knocked into his coffee mug, and suddenly the kitchen became a whirlwind of activity in an attempt to save said textbook.

  They got everything cleaned up, and Ari washed his hands in the bathroom to remove the lingering stick of coffee and milk, since the textbook was drip-drying over the kitchen sink while Afra attempted to talk Theo out of a panic attack. At least Ari thought that was what she was doing, but he couldn’t hear much over his rough-cut album. As per his habit, he was in the midst of playing it on repeat in the background, a process that helped him catch any defects.

  When he stepped out of the bathroom, Jax was standing in the doorway, staring at Afra, poised awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Afra was eyeing him back warily.

  Afra had agreed with Ari that he’d probably screwed up at the dinner, but Jax was the one who’d torpedoed it. Afra was still Ari’s big sister, and
part of her, she said, would never forgive Jax for making Ari unhappy.

  “Sorry for interrupting. I’m just here to get some stuff?” He looked spooked. What had Afra said when Ari was in the other room?

  Ari motioned to Afra that he could take it from here. She looked dubious but stepped to the side anyway.

  “Sorry,” Ari said. “We’re a bit—tour planning. You know.” He didn’t, of course, but Ari wasn’t going to air Afra’s personal business to Jax. It was none of his now.

  Just like the mysterious Christine was none of Ari’s.

  Silence fell over them as Jax shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

  “Oh, right, your helmet.” Ari looked around and realized he’d left it… not here. Where had he put it? He’d meant to shift it next to the door. “Let me just….” He waved a hand over his shoulder and stepped away.

  “Right, sure, no problem,” Jax said distractedly.

  Ari hurried to find the helmet tucked in the closet he’d shoved it into, unable to bear the sight of it on his counter any longer, a painful reminder that Jax hated him now too much to even ask for it back.

  When he returned, Jax’s face was flushed and he wouldn’t meet Ari’s eyes.

  “Here.” He held out the helmet upside down. Jax’s keys were nestled safely inside.

  “Thanks,” Jax said. He looked at the helmet and keys for a long moment. “Is this—” He stopped, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Ari tilted his head. “Yes?”

  Jax gave a pathetic smile. “It’s nothing.” He lifted the helmet. “Thanks. I better let you get back to….” He waved a hand. “Yeah. Bye.”

  “Bye,” Ari said, bemused, as Jax hurried away. He watched him disappear into the stairwell—didn’t want to wait for the elevator, it seemed—and then closed the front door. He pressed his face against it and took a deep breath.

  Would it never not hurt to see or think about Jax? Every reminder of him came with a deep certainty that Jax was “the one.” Except how could he be when he’d behaved the way he had? When he’d gotten over Ari so easily?