by Andy Gallo
Darren picked up his bottle and hid himself behind a drink.
Isaiah let it go. “What do you think of yoga?”
“Much harder than I thought, but I feel really loose. Like I do after a pregame stretch, only better.”
“Bingo. That’s because it is better. And you did really well. I kept pushing you with more advanced moves and you were right there with me—mostly.”
Darren inhaled deeply. He hoped Isaiah would think it was from the workout and not nerves.
“Isaiah?” a female called into the room. “Are you in here?”
“Yes, Mindy.” Isaiah looked at Darren. “Mindy’s the studio owner.”
The door opened wider, and Darren was sure he saw her eyebrows go up just a fraction when she saw him standing so near Isaiah. “Someone is here to see you. She says she’s your mother.”
“Mom? She’s here? Like downstairs—not on the phone?”
“That’s what she said, but I don’t know her.”
“Where is she?” Isaiah shot to the door.
“At the check-in desk,” Mindy said to his back.
Darren wiped his hand on the towel and watched as the two left and the door shut behind them. Well, okay.
He searched for his shirt and pulled it on.
Air whooshed into the room as the door flung open, and Isaiah was back. “Why aren’t you coming?”
Darren scooped up his bag and snagged his sneakers. “I didn’t realize I was invited.”
Isaiah smirked. “You can follow me anywhere, Darren.” He paused. “And I want you to meet my mom.”
Darren’s chest rammed up his throat.
He swallowed it back down and tossed Isaiah a giant grin. “How about I shower first? First impressions and all that.”
Isaiah backed out of the room—or he tried. He banged against the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. The showers are, um, down one level.”
Isaiah hurried away again, and Darren was left alone facing one certainty.
He was screwed.
Chapter Seventeen
Isaiah
Isaiah was unusually nervous about introducing Darren to his mom.
“Everything okay, dear?” she asked when they arrived back at the attic studio.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” He smiled. “So why are you here? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not like you to surprise me like this.”
“Can’t I come visit my son to check in on him?”
“It’s a four-hour drive without traffic. One doesn’t just ‘pop in’ like that. Especially on a Tuesday. And please don’t tell me Ian is taking care of Isabelle.”
“Your brother is very responsible, just like his role model.” She patted his cheek. “Grandma is staying with them so Ian doesn’t feel overwhelmed. Not that he didn’t protest that he could handle it.”
“Of course.” His kid brother had to be too grown-up, too soon. “But that’s good Gran’s there. Isabelle listens to her.”
“True.” She laughed. “I suspect deep down Ian’s relieved because at thirteen, your sister has quite the independent streak.”
“So why are you here? You clearly planned this.”
“I’m worried about you. You’ve sounded so stressed lately, between your business and music majors, work, and now this scholar thing. I needed to check on you.”
How did he ask her about how she could afford it? “What about work? How’d you get the time off?”
“It’s called vacation days,” she said with a laugh. “Even nurses get them. In fact, after you work so many double shifts in a row, they require you take some time off to recharge.”
Still. “Got this all figured out, don’t you?”
“Just because you think you have to take care of everyone, doesn’t mean I don’t get to worry about you. I’m still your mother.”
“Whatever.” He pointed toward the room’s lone chair. “Have a seat. Darren should be back soon.”
She used the chair, and he sat on the mat facing her.
“Darren is your competition, right?”
Was this why she’d come? To check out the competition? “It’s a bit complicated.”
“Complicated?”
“Well, yeah.” He diverted his gaze. “I might like him.”
“Might?”
“I do. Like him.”
Her smile glittered. “Thought so. Even over the phone I could figure something was up there. Does he like you too?”
“As I said, it’s complicated.”
She nodded. “Sleeping with the enemy can be . . . complicated.”
“What? No, we haven’t . . .” He threw up a hand, halting this conversation. “We’re not going there.”
“It’s an expression, dear, I wasn’t asking or suggesting you two had slept together.” She rolled her eyes and snorted. “What is it about children that they think we weren’t young once too?”
“Ugh. Enough.”
She chuckled.
Isaiah crossed his arms over his chest. “Anyway . . . ”
She reached over and mussed his hair. “I love you, honey.”
“How long are you here for?” he asked.
“I hope to stay until Thursday morning so I can see your rehearsal tomorrow. But I need to find a hotel I can afford. I don’t like to search for cheap hotels without asking someone in the area if they’re safe first.”
“Between Nico and me, we’ll find someplace you can stay.” They had to. His mother hadn’t seen him perform since high school. “I have to say, this is so great you did this. I miss you and Ian and Isabelle. I wish I didn’t have to stay here last summer, but . . .”
But summer jobs were hard to get in Erie, and he had a decent one here. Plus, taking summer classes helped reduce his course load during the year. But since he couldn’t afford a car, it meant he didn’t see his family.
“They miss you too. Especially your sister. Ian too, but he won’t admit it.”
Isaiah smiled. He might not tell her, but his brother told him all the time how much he missed him. His mother’s eyes darted toward the door behind him, and when he turned, Darren stood in the doorway.
“Darren.” It came out a bit more enthusiastically than intended, but he hopped up and crossed to him. “Come meet my mother.”
Without thinking, he grabbed Darren’s left hand and pulled him along. Darren squeezed back, and Isaiah’s chest burst with nervous butterflies. “Mom, Darren Gage. Darren, my mother, Jennifer Nettles.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nettles.” Darren extended his right hand, but didn’t try to free the left one Isaiah kept captive. “This must be a wonderful surprise for Isaiah. He smiles every time he mentions you.”
Darren certainly knew how to turn on the charm. Isaiah may have resented it when they first met, but using it to make his mother feel good earned the guy major points.
“Please, call me Jen,” she said, shaking his hand. “Isaiah has spoken of you too, so it’s good to put a face to the name.”
Ha! Let Darren chew on that. He’d no doubt wonder what Isaiah had told her. Mom spared the tiniest glance at their hands, but otherwise didn’t pay attention.
“I hope you have a wonderful visit,” Darren said.
“I’m sure I will.”
Turning toward Isaiah, Darren still didn’t move to free himself. “Thank you for the training session. I’ll have to look into joining once soccer is finished. If you call me when you get a chance, we can reschedule our meeting.”
“What? Wait, you can’t leave.” He could, but Isaiah didn’t want him to go. There was an eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room—and Isaiah didn’t want to leave without addressing it. “Mom and I are going to dinner. Come with us.”
“I don’t want to intrude on your time together,” Darren said softly.
“Pfft,” Mom said. “Isaiah horned in on your family time.” Thank God his mother didn’t miss a beat. “Besides, it’ll give me a chance to get to know you a bit more.”
She gave their joined
hands a pointed look. Darren flinched, but didn’t pull free.
“Exactly,” Isaiah said, letting go before it got awkward for either of them. He grabbed his bag from the floor. “Would you mind keeping Mom company while I shower?”
He didn’t give Darren a chance to answer before he dashed out the door.
“It’s a long drive from Erie,” he heard Darren say. “Where are you staying?”
After showering, Isaiah picked up his Mom and Darren, and they headed out for dinner. Darren suggested a small Italian restaurant, and despite Isaiah’s fears it would be too pricey, it was easily within his budget. And the food was good.
Between courses, Isaiah begged off to the bathroom and hurriedly called Nico.
He explained the situation and Nico immediately offered to help.
Any decent hotel would require a credit card to check in. He only had a debit card, and he knew his mother’s cards were likely maxed out. When she checked out, Isaiah could pay cash, but first he had to get her settled. And for that he’d need Nico to meet them at check-in.
Isaiah headed back to the dinner table.
“So after Isaiah covered me head to toe in mud”—Darren flashed a glittering look at Isaiah as he approached the table—“my mother handed him the hose so he could squirt me too.”
“Isaiah, I know I taught you better than that.”
“Actually, you taught me to be respectful of my friends’ parents. Peg told me to clean him off.” He shrugged, picked up his fork. “What else could I do?”
“He has a point,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the chance to hose Isaiah down, but it sounds like you and your mother have a wonderful bond.”
Darren smiled, the way he did when he was truly happy. “She is wonderful. Well, other than trying to fix me up with ‘acceptable’ men.”
“Oh no.” She put her hand to her lips. “Not that I ever thought to try, but Isaiah told me in very clear terms not to do that. Ever.”
“That’s because I’m very wise.”
“And modest too,” she said, patting his arm. “You should have a talk with her.”
“I did. I told her I’d decide who’s acceptable, not her.” He looked over, and Isaiah thought his heart would stop beating. “She agreed with me and promised not to try to fix me up again.”
The earth seemed to tilt, and Isaiah wasn’t sure he could speak if he needed to. He wanted to believe Darren had stood up to her because he wanted Isaiah. It had to be, didn’t it? Darren had held his hand in front of his mother.
“Well, I suppose Isaiah and I have other mother-son issues than me fixing him up.”
“Oh?” Darren seemed far too interested in what unknown embarrassing thing Isaiah’s mother was about to impart. “Such as?”
“Oh no.” She wagged a finger at Darren. “I am not one of those parents who gives away embarrassing stories about their kids. I plan to save those until after my kids are married so I don’t scare anyone off.”
Darren laughed loud enough that someone at the table next to them turned their head. “That’s hardly fair.”
She grabbed Darren’s hand and Isaiah’s and squeezed. “It’s totally fair. But you don’t need to worry. All my Isaiah stories revolve around how he decided he had to take care of us after his father died. Like how he used his money to send his sister to a soccer tournament or bought her new cleats the other week. He grew up too fast.”
Isaiah swallowed twice to get the lump out of his throat. Mentioning Dad cost her a lot, but she wanted him to know his father would be proud.
“Soccer camp and cleats are important,” he said. “Ask Darren. He’s the leading scorer on the team this year and in the league.”
“That’s right. Isaiah mentioned you were the star of the team. Isabelle would love to meet you.”
“We have a few weekend games left. If you can make it down, I’ll see if the coach will let her come hang out with us. In fact . . .” Darren pulled out his phone, clicked it on, then off and then set it down. “I’m pretty sure the women’s team and our team both play at home the second-to-last Saturday in October. I’ll double-check and give the information to Isaiah.”
“Oh my. Isabelle would be so thrilled. Please send it along, and I’ll see what we can do.”
“Absolutely.” He nodded quickly and then winced. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but I need to go back and study. We have an away game tomorrow, and I’m a bit behind this week.”
“Don’t apologize,” Jen said. She pushed her chair back and opened her arms. Darren let her hug him, and she surprised Isaiah by kissing Darren on the cheek. “Thank you so much. For everything.”
Darren tossed a sideward glance at Isaiah and refocused on his mother. “You’re welcome. It was wonderful to meet you, and please let me know if you want to see a game.”
Isaiah rose and this time when he went for a hug, Darren didn’t hesitate. “I’ll call you later,” he whispered in Darren’s ear.
“Okay, great.” He let go, nodded toward Isaiah’s mother, and walked off.
Isaiah had a moment of panic. Something had changed in Darren. He had the stiff demeanor that only happened when he was trying not to show his emotions. But why? What had Isaiah done?
“He’s a very nice young man, Isaiah,” Mom said, drawing Isaiah’s attention away from the now empty front door. “And he really likes you.”
“I wish.”
“Trust me.” She squeezed his hand again. “Come on, let’s go.”
“I just need to pay the bill.” He saw their waitress and raised his hand to get her attention.
“Isaiah—”
“Hold on, Mom,” he said when the woman arrived. “Can I get the check, please?”
She tilted her head, looked at his mother, then back at him. “Your friend already paid the bill.”
Before he could answer, she walked off. Isaiah stared at her retreating back for a second before turning back to his mother.
“That’s what I was going to say. Darren paid the bill when you went to the bathroom.”
“He . . . he did?”
She shrugged. “I tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.”
That sounded like Darren. He smiled but shook his head. “Nothing I can do now.” It also meant he could afford a slightly better hotel for her.
“You could thank him next time you see him.”
“Trust me, I will.” He couldn’t hold back the smile. “Okay, let’s find you a hotel and then call Nico so he can help us check you in.”
He took out his phone to call up the list of hotels, but his mother pushed his hand onto the table. “Darren already took care of that as well.”
What the fuck? “He did?”
“Yes, he did.” She waved her hand. “Don’t be mad. He asked me not to tell you, but we both know I can’t afford two nights at the university hotel.”
“Harrison Hotel?” The one all the mega rich alumni use that costs more for a night than the upgrade motel he was looking at cost for a week? “Mom, why would you let him do that?”
“Because I very much want to see you perform and I’m not too proud to accept a little help if it can make that happen. His family owns the hotel and has a suite reserved for them that isn’t being used. He called them and reserved it for me.”
What the fuck was he up to? No way his family had an unused suite. He was paying for it himself.
“Isaiah?” She waited until he looked at her. “Don’t be mad. He was trying to do something nice for both of us. We were talking about how many of your performances I’d missed and how I knew you missed having me there.”
“But . . .”
“Please don’t be upset with him. He was so sweet to help, and he knew you’d be mad if you found out. But he did it anyway because he said you moved people with your music and I deserved the chance to hear how great you are.”
“He said that?” His music moved Darren. And his mother would get to
see him play for the first time in more than two years. “I’m still kinda mad, but I’m getting over it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Darren
Music filled the dark theater. Emotional, strong, confident, daring, and played with heart. If Darren were describing Isaiah, those would be among the first words he’d use. The qualities he most admired.
For Darren, music was an escape. A way to express himself outside of what was expected of him. Something he could turn to for comfort.
For Isaiah, music was his soul. He lived it. He commanded it.
In a perfect world, Isaiah would have the freedom to express his talent without worrying about eating or paying the rent. Or sacrificing his little earnings to support his family.
Isaiah finished a peppy jazz number and waited for comments. The professor offered a few tips for improving, but otherwise sounded pleased with Isaiah’s work.
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Darren whipped his head around. He’d snuck into the performance, squirreled himself in the back—thought he’d go unseen.
“Nico,” he said, heat crawling up his neck. “I didn’t think anyone would notice me.”
Nico glanced at the stage with a giant grin. “Why are you sitting back here?”
“Um . . .”
The hesitation delighted Nico, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “You should have sat up close. So Isaiah could have seen you.”
Darren rubbed his jaw. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
Isaiah had texted after dinner Tuesday to say thank you, but with his rehearsal last night, his mother’s visit, and Darren’s away game, they hadn’t talked.
Darren had come because . . . he really wanted to see Isaiah again.
Shit. This was kinda stalkery behavior, right? He should go.
Lights blinked on, and they rose to their feet. “I gotta . . .” Darren gestured over Nico’s shoulder toward the door.
Nico took his time picking up his things, blocking his way, and Darren bounced on the balls of his feet, preparing to hightail his stalking ass out of there.
