“I know. Lesson learned. I mean…” Damn it all. The “lesson learned” wasn’t supposed to be that I was unreliable.
“Things happen, Jonas. I know your life can be really hectic.”
Her words were understanding, but they sounded an awful lot like an indictment of our future. “It’s not usually like this,” I said, the excuse sounding lame even to myself.
“It’s okay. We were going to take you to the aquarium today. I’ll take her anyway.”
“I’m sorry Kira. So sorry.”
“Me too,” she said. “I hope Nixon is okay.”
“He will be. Thanks.”
I told her I missed her, and that I hoped to call soon with better news. Then we hung up, leaving me feeling like Asshole of the Year.
I slipped back into Nixon’s room, where the nurse was fussing over him. “The attending will come in to take a look at you in a little while,” she said on her way out the door.
Sitting down, I rubbed my gritty eyes. “At least we don’t have a show tonight. I wonder if you’ll be able to play Nashville Wednesday night.”
“I’ll play it,” Nixon said gruffly. “I’ll probably stop puking by then.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry about Boston.”
I groaned. “It just sucks, you know? I kept telling Kira that we could make this work. I said it a dozen times. Your timing sucks, my friend.”
“It always has,” he agreed.
Twenty-One
Kira
“That smells good,” my brother said cheerily as he came into the kitchen.
I was sautéing his favorite chicken dish and trying not to worry. Adam was trying to cheer me up, which was completely backward. He was the one going under the knife tomorrow. “Thanks. It’s really no trouble.”
“There’s something I need to discuss with you for ten seconds. And then we can never speak of this again, okay?”
My stomach dropped. “Hit me.”
“There’s a folder in my desk labeled ‘In Case of Emergency.’ It’s a living will and a copy of my actual will, a list of accounts, and crap like that.”
I flipped over a piece of chicken so that it could brown on the other side. “I remember.” After Vivi was born, Adam made sure we both had wills, naming me as his beneficiary and giving him custody of Vivi if anything ever happened to me. It was the kind of formality that lawyers took care of.
Still, I shivered.
“That’s all,” Adam said, moving over to the cupboard to take out three plates. “Serious discussion over.”
Lately it was all serious, all the time, though.
Vivi came into the kitchen, Purple Kitty dangling under her arm. “Mama? Is my daddy coming to see us?”
Since Jonas canceled on us, I’d been getting this question several times a day. “I hope so, sweetie. But he’s very busy right now.” I hated saying that. It was the very same lie I’d fed Vivi before she met Jonas. But now I found it to be one hundred percent true.
“Where is he? On the purple bus?”
“The bus went to a city called Nashville, I think. That’s in Tennessee.” But a four-year-old just didn’t have the context to understand where that was.
“Can we go there, too?” She shifted Purple Kitty, balancing the stuffy on her shoulder.
“No, sweetie. Tomorrow you’re having a play date with Ada, remember?” Our neighbor across the street had agreed to take Vivi all day so I could be at the hospital for Adam’s surgery.
Vivi considered this, a furrow playing over her brow. “Can we call my daddy on the phone?”
“Not right now.” Although I owed Jonas a call. There were three new messages from him already on my phone today, but I hadn’t called back. Yet. I was in a dark mood, and I wasn’t ready to share it with him.
Instead, I served my sesame chicken with a side of false cheer. I’d made a cold noodle salad—another of Adam’s favorites—to go with it.
“This is awesome,” Adam said over his first forkful.
I was sick of fake-smiling and pretending that everything was fine. “It’s just chicken.”
“No, Kira,” he said quietly. “It’s a lot more than just chicken. Thank you for all your help this week.”
My eyes suddenly stung with tears. Jonas had said the same thing about the dinners I’d made him. I really should call him. But one thing at a time. I had to get through Adam’s surgery first.
Sitting here with Adam and Vivi felt bittersweet tonight. As long as we were all healthy enough to sit here together again very soon, I really shouldn’t ask the universe for anything more.
No matter how beautiful his eyes.
* * *
Alone a few hours later, I checked my phone. There was a new text from Jonas. Kira, where are you today? Please call tonight. Done with the show by ten.
A peek at the clock revealed that it was half past ten. And just like that, I crumbled like one of Vivi’s animal crackers on the kitchen floor. I tapped Jonas’s phone number and then listened to it ring three times.
Just when I was ready to give up, someone answered. “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice. That was… odd.
“Uh, hi,” I said carefully. “Is Jonas around?” Who is this, I felt like asking. In the background, I could hear other voices.
“Oh, he’s around. But I didn’t leave him in any shape to take calls right now.” Then she let out a naughty laugh.
“How’s that?” I heard myself ask. Did I even want to know the answer? A prickle of unease crawled up my spine.
There was a smirk in her voice when she spoke again. “He’s been a very busy boy. But if you insist, I’ll let him tell you himself.”
I felt as though I’d been slapped. With a quick tap of my finger, I disconnected the call.
For a full minute, I stared at the phone, wondering what had just happened. It was all too easy to picture the laughing woman with Jonas’s phone in her hand, on a bed in a hotel room somewhere. And it was impossible not to remember the high-pitched sound of those women in the hotel lobby running towards the elevator.
My face grew warm, as if I’d been caught doing something embarrassing. And I guess I had. Because Jonas and I had never had a discussion about whether we’d be exclusive. I’d only assumed that if he wanted me, then he’d want only me.
But I never asked. And clearly I was an idiot for making assumptions.
We didn’t know each other very well. That seemed obvious now.
God, I was such an idiot.
I set down my phone and shut off my lamp. I curled up in my bed, staring into the darkness. At any other point in my life, I would probably have burst into tears. But instead, I only felt numb. I shouldn’t even be thinking about Jonas right now. Adam’s illness was the important thing. We just had to get through his surgery.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to fall asleep.
* * *
The next morning was simply too busy for wallowing in my own misery. Vivi and I had to take care of the grocery shopping.
“When can I go to Ada’s house?” she asked, bored by the long line at the checkout.
“Soon, sweetie. Right around lunchtime.” I moved the cart forward. “Listen, Viv? Adam has to go to a doctor’s office today, and they’re going to fix a little thing in his tummy.” This wasn’t a lie, exactly. As it happened, the surgeon was going to go through an incision in Adam’s pelvis. He wouldn’t be lifting his niece onto his lap anytime soon.
“Why?” Vivi asked.
Why, indeed. “There’s a bump there that they want to take out. And he has to stay overnight. But tomorrow he’ll come back home, okay?”
“Okay.”
“He’ll have to sit around for a couple of days and read a lot of magazines.”
“And watch videos on his phone?” Vivi asked hopefully.
“We’ll see.” In my pocket, my own phone vibrated. I snuck a peek at the screen, just in case it was Adam calling.
No dice. Missed calls: 3 from Jonas.
“It’s daddy!” Vivi yelled.
“What?” I asked. Could Vivi suddenly read?
She clapped her hands. “The song, Mommy.”
I went still. Sure enough, “Sweetness” was playing over the store’s sound system. Good grief. Was there no way to escape that man? I heaved a five-pound box of rice onto the conveyor belt with a little more force than necessary.
It used to be easier to hear Jonas’s songs on the radio, back when he was just a vivid memory. Now these songs were like the soundtrack to my own stupidity.
You’ll always be my sweetness.
Right. And to think I’d believed that he meant it. But pop songs were meant to seduce the masses. And clearly Jonas took that seduction seriously.
I put grapes and onions, potatoes, chicken, ground turkey, cheese and crackers on the conveyor belt. And a six-pack of Adam’s favorite Mexican soda. Real love wasn’t set to a four-four drum beat in a recording studio. Real love was accomplished this way—by caring for the people who needed you.
I would try not to forget it.
Twenty-Two
Jonas
Three of us sat under a leaden sky on Ethan’s hotel room balcony.
“I’ve always liked Nashville,” Nixon said, his feet up on the railing. “But I liked it better when I didn’t feel like road kill.”
I did not reply. My opinion about why Nixon felt half alive would not be welcome. And I had no opinion on Nashville, and very little to say about anything at all today. Kira had not called or answered a text in three days, and I was about to lose my mind.
“I really can’t figure out that building, though.” Ethan pointed into the distance. “It looks like Batman.”
“It’s the AT&T building,” I muttered. The logo was visible right at the top of Batman’s head, between the ears.
“No kidding. But why? Did the architect mean to make it look like a superhero? It can’t be an accident. Nobody could draw that shit on a big roll of paper and miss the connection.”
Ignoring him, I hit “refresh” on the weather app on my phone for the thousandth time. “Chance of thunderstorms, seventy-eight percent.”
“Fuck,” Ethan groused. “A little rain would be okay. But you can’t play if there’s lightning. This is going to be a total shit show.”
“When does the venue have to decide?” I asked.
“Soon. If there won’t be a show, they have to let people know.” He looked at his watch. “It’s eleven now. Sound check in an hour. Doors open at four. I’d say they have to make the call by two.”
“Hmm.” I tapped out an impatient rhythm on the arm of my chair. If this concert was canceled, it would create a window just wide enough for visiting my girls. So long as I could find a flight to Boston. I’d have to leave again tomorrow, catching a flight to Atlanta to rejoin the tour.
But it would be worth it to check in on Kira. I needed to make sure she was okay, and apologize in person for my most recent fiasco.
“What’s on your mind, man?”
I looked up to find Ethan staring at me. I shrugged.
“You’re plotting something, aren’t you? Going to try to go to Boston if we cancel?”
“Do it,” Nixon encouraged.
I squinted at the sky again. “I might. But she isn’t taking my calls right now.”
“That’s cold,” Ethan said.
But was it? I’d be mad, too. “Maybe I should just leave her alone for a little while. I told her that she wouldn’t regret getting involved with me. But she already does. We have a big life, you know? We have things that other people only dream about. But maybe you just can’t have everything.”
Nixon’s snort sounded a whole lot like agreement. He got out of his chair and headed toward the room.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
Nixon stopped halfway through the sliding glass doors. “To the john. That okay with you? I don’t think I’ll find any contaminated pills between here and Ethan’s toilet.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” I grumbled, scrolling through my phone, hoping to see a new message from Kira.
There wasn’t one.
“Hey, Jonas?” Ethan interrupted my thoughts. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I looked up in alarm, because discussions that began that way never ended well. And the big man’s face wore a grim expression that was already ratcheting up my anxiety. “What is it?”
“I’ve been offered a job with Premier.”
Oh, hell. I held back a groan. “Is it a really good job? Because the timing is really rough, dude. Do they expect you to quit in the middle of my tour?”
Ethan chewed on his lip before answering. “It is a really good job. I already have a really good job, though.”
I sure as hell didn’t know what to say. I did not want Ethan to leave. Not ever. But making him feel guilty about it wouldn’t be fair. “You have to do what’s right for you,” I said. “If they’re offering you something you can’t refuse, then I’m not going to be a dick about it.”
“That’s it?” Ethan tipped his head slowly backward until it collided with the wall. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
The prickle of discomfort that had hovered at my temples all morning now blossomed into a full-blown headache. “That’s not all I want to say. But I just told you I don’t want to be a dick.”
Ethan crossed his arms across his enormous chest and frowned. “Then say it, man. Now is your chance.”
“All right. I wish you wouldn’t go. Nobody else could do the job like you.”
Unless I was mistaken, Ethan seemed to relax a degree or two. “That’s good to hear.”
“I mean… Because you do so many things that aren’t really in the job description. It isn’t in your contract to give a fuck whether I ate lunch, you know? You always go the extra mile for me. I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t even fair to you. Maybe you should take the other job and just do the minimum. You’d still be doing more for those lucky shits than any other manager did.”
Ethan’s face fell. Then he banged his enormous head into the stucco behind him several times in a row. Thunk. Thunk, thunk. “Jojo, stop talking now.”
“What did I say?”
“You…” He made a noise of irritation. “Why do you think I do all that extra stuff? It’s not like I misread my contract. I don’t think it says ‘Make homemade chili when Jonas is sad.’ You think I’m an idiot, or just an overachiever?”
“Neither,” I insisted. “But I also don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”
“Sometimes you’re kind of an asshole.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“See, I don’t think you do! The reason I work out with you every morning and listen to you bitch is because we’re friends. I care about you. And the fact that you don’t understand that does not make me happy. I don’t want to go work for some other dudes, Jonas. But if you really don’t give a shit about our friendship, I’ll do it.”
“I…” My neck got hot. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend.”
“That’s the thing, though. You are a good friend. If it was me who suddenly had a lot of family complications, what would you do?”
“I’d help,” I whispered. I would, too. I’d flown down to Texas with Ethan when Ethan’s brother died in a trucking accident.
“That’s right. You would. But you never give yourself any credit for being a good guy. So you write off all the relationships you have, insisting that nobody actually gives a damn about you. You say that Nixon only needs you to write songs. You say that I’m only here for the paycheck. You let all your friends off the hook for everything. And it’s because you’re afraid to count on anyone.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Ethan just shook his head. “Call it what you will. And I’m not saying you didn’t come about this shit honestly. Watching your parents die would fuck anybody up. But what if you tried admitting that you need the people in your life? There
are people who would love you back if you figured out how to count on them.”
“I take care of myself. I don’t need to count on people.”
“But you should,” Ethan insisted. “Nobody is supposed to take care of himself all alone. It’s better with help.”
There was a flaw in this logic. “Who takes care of you, though?”
Ethan rubbed his head. “You guys do, in your own way. I’m part of the family, not just some employee. We jam together, and you let me muddle along on the guitar, like I’m not just your lackey.”
It was true, too. Ethan was one of our crew. Not just an employee. “I really don’t want someone else on my bus, E. Please don’t go.”
Ethan tipped his head to the side, a slow smile lighting his face. Then he leaned over and grabbed me around the shoulders, squeezing me into a tight hug.
I couldn’t draw a breath for a second there until he released me.
“See that, Jojo? That right there. A gay black man does not feel welcome everywhere. But on your bus I’m good.”
“Of course you are.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows in a knowing look. “You see that? You got to give yourself a little more credit, if you want other people to do the same.”
“Sure, okay,” I said to appease him.
“Now, go tell your girl the same thing. Tell her you need her. Tell her it isn’t okay for her to shut you out. Sometimes your job is going to get in the fucking way, but you will not give up.”
He made it sound so simple. “I do need her. I need her so bad. But she’s been alone for years because of me. And I don’t know why she’d forgive me for that.”
But Ethan wasn’t even listening. He was already dialing someone on his phone. “Ben? This thunderstorm looks bad. I can’t have all this equipment out in the lightning. And your boys are at risk. Call the venue and tell ’em how it’s gonna be.”
“Really?” I asked Ethan after he disconnected his call. “You didn’t want to give it more time?”
“You. Go to Boston. Get the twelve thirty flight, bud. Before the storm shuts down the airport. I’m calling you a car.”
Lies and Lullabies Page 21
