Desperate Chances
Page 74
I couldn’t look behind me any longer. I could only go forward.
I made myself a cup of coffee and went through the local want ads. I wasn’t expecting to find anything that I’d be interested in. So it was with surprise that I saw an opening for a guitar tech at a custom shop in Southborough. It wasn’t the sort of job that would bring me fame and fortune, but I had had my fair share of all that stuff.
It was eight in the morning when I grabbed my keys and my wallet and left the house.
Maybe I’d land myself a job.
“Hey, Ma, how are you?” I gave my mother a hug as she let me inside.
The day had gotten cold and they were calling for snow later. I had made sure to fill my car up and stopped by the grocery store to load up on the essentials. Bread. Milk. And of course beer. And a couple packs of Twizzlers just in case I was stuck inside for a few days.
“Mitch! What are you doing here?” she asked, taking my coat and hanging it on the hook beside the kitchen door. She was cooking chili and my mouth immediately began to water.
“I knew you had to be making some sort of snow day food. I was hoping to snag some,” I said, heading to the Crock-Pot and lifting the lid.
My mother swatted my hand. “It’s not ready yet,” she scolded.
I sat down at the kitchen table as my mother fussed around making me a sandwich, and pouring me a glass of iced tea. She put a plate loaded with food in front of me and sat down across the table.
I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. I had forgotten, in my haste to leave the house, to get anything to eat. Now it was almost lunchtime and I was starving.
“This is amazing, Mom. I wish you’d come to live with me at Garrett’s so you can make my meals all the time,” I said, giving her a toothy grin that I knew she loved.
“You’re welcome here anytime and I’ll make you whatever you want,” she offered, giving me an indulgent pat on the cheek.
“I got a job today,” I said without preamble, swallowing another bite of my sandwich.
Mom frowned, looking confused. “You got a job? Doing what?”
“As a guitar tech at Bobby’s Custom Sound over in Southborough. I’d be helping out in the custom shop. It’s a fulltime position with benefits and paid time off,” I told her, sounding tentatively excited. Because I was. It was a real job with real potential.
“I don’t understand, Mitch. What about your band? Have you spoken with the label already?”
I finished my sandwich and wiped my mouth with a napkin. I got up and carried my plate to the sink, washing it, and putting it on the rack to dry.
“Mitch, what’s going on? You’ve been playing music since you were a boy. Why are you stepping away from it now?” Mom sounded worried.
“I’m not stepping away, Ma, but I can’t depend on that particular gravy train anymore. Jordan’s having a kid—”
“He and Maysie are having a baby? That’s wonderful news!” Mom cut in enthusiastically.
I smiled. “Yeah, it’s great for them, but it also means he doesn’t want to go on tour or spend days in a recording studio when he has a newborn at home. Not that I blame him or anything. I also have a feeling Garrett’s going to move up to Boston to be with his girlfriend. Things are changing and I needed to change with them or get run over.”
Mom looked thoughtful. “What does Sophie think of you getting this job? What are your plans?”
“Sophie and I broke up,” I said, returning to my seat at the kitchen table.
“My goodness, you sure like to do everything at once,” Mom commented, pursing her lips. “Though I can’t say that I’m surprised. There’s a reason you refused to bring her around to see your family. And when a man can’t introduce his lady to his mother, that says a lot.”
“I didn’t refuse to bring her over, Ma,” I protested.
“I met the girl twice, Mitch. Twice. You used to bring Gracie around all the time. Sophie seemed nice enough, she just wasn’t for you.” My mother got up and went over to stir the chili. “Does that mean you’ll bring Gracie over for dinner sometime soon? I miss that girl. She always loved my carrot cake. She has good taste.”
My mother was observant. Way too observant sometimes. She had the mother’s intuition thing down to a science. “What makes you think this has anything to do with Gracie?” I asked, more for my own amusement than anything else. There was no fooling Eileen Abrams.
Mom gave me a look that could only be described as a bitch, please . I covered my mouth with my fist and coughed to cover my laughter.
“I may be old, but I’m not stupid, child. Now get into the cabinet and find the chili flakes for your dear mother.”
I did as I was told and grabbed the spice she needed. “Sophie and I broke up because we weren’t right for each other.”
“And it took you a year to figure out? It seems you’ve become a little soft in the head in your old age. Maybe it’s all that noise from your amplifiers. It short circuited something,” Mom teased.
“You’re hysterical, Mom,” I deadpanned.
Mom shook in a handful of red flakes and passed the container back to me so I could put it away. “I didn’t raise you to be a runner, Mitch. And it seems to me that you’ve been running a marathon.”
“What did Charlotte tell you?” I asked, instantly suspicious. Charlotte knew something had happened with Gracie, even though she didn’t know the particulars. I was sure she and Mom had been having a good gab at my expense.
I made myself a cup of coffee and went through the local want ads. I wasn’t expecting to find anything that I’d be interested in. So it was with surprise that I saw an opening for a guitar tech at a custom shop in Southborough. It wasn’t the sort of job that would bring me fame and fortune, but I had had my fair share of all that stuff.
It was eight in the morning when I grabbed my keys and my wallet and left the house.
Maybe I’d land myself a job.
“Hey, Ma, how are you?” I gave my mother a hug as she let me inside.
The day had gotten cold and they were calling for snow later. I had made sure to fill my car up and stopped by the grocery store to load up on the essentials. Bread. Milk. And of course beer. And a couple packs of Twizzlers just in case I was stuck inside for a few days.
“Mitch! What are you doing here?” she asked, taking my coat and hanging it on the hook beside the kitchen door. She was cooking chili and my mouth immediately began to water.
“I knew you had to be making some sort of snow day food. I was hoping to snag some,” I said, heading to the Crock-Pot and lifting the lid.
My mother swatted my hand. “It’s not ready yet,” she scolded.
I sat down at the kitchen table as my mother fussed around making me a sandwich, and pouring me a glass of iced tea. She put a plate loaded with food in front of me and sat down across the table.
I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. I had forgotten, in my haste to leave the house, to get anything to eat. Now it was almost lunchtime and I was starving.
“This is amazing, Mom. I wish you’d come to live with me at Garrett’s so you can make my meals all the time,” I said, giving her a toothy grin that I knew she loved.
“You’re welcome here anytime and I’ll make you whatever you want,” she offered, giving me an indulgent pat on the cheek.
“I got a job today,” I said without preamble, swallowing another bite of my sandwich.
Mom frowned, looking confused. “You got a job? Doing what?”
“As a guitar tech at Bobby’s Custom Sound over in Southborough. I’d be helping out in the custom shop. It’s a fulltime position with benefits and paid time off,” I told her, sounding tentatively excited. Because I was. It was a real job with real potential.
“I don’t understand, Mitch. What about your band? Have you spoken with the label already?”
I finished my sandwich and wiped my mouth with a napkin. I got up and carried my plate to the sink, washing it, and putting it on the rack to dry.
“Mitch, what’s going on? You’ve been playing music since you were a boy. Why are you stepping away from it now?” Mom sounded worried.
“I’m not stepping away, Ma, but I can’t depend on that particular gravy train anymore. Jordan’s having a kid—”
“He and Maysie are having a baby? That’s wonderful news!” Mom cut in enthusiastically.
I smiled. “Yeah, it’s great for them, but it also means he doesn’t want to go on tour or spend days in a recording studio when he has a newborn at home. Not that I blame him or anything. I also have a feeling Garrett’s going to move up to Boston to be with his girlfriend. Things are changing and I needed to change with them or get run over.”
Mom looked thoughtful. “What does Sophie think of you getting this job? What are your plans?”
“Sophie and I broke up,” I said, returning to my seat at the kitchen table.
“My goodness, you sure like to do everything at once,” Mom commented, pursing her lips. “Though I can’t say that I’m surprised. There’s a reason you refused to bring her around to see your family. And when a man can’t introduce his lady to his mother, that says a lot.”
“I didn’t refuse to bring her over, Ma,” I protested.
“I met the girl twice, Mitch. Twice. You used to bring Gracie around all the time. Sophie seemed nice enough, she just wasn’t for you.” My mother got up and went over to stir the chili. “Does that mean you’ll bring Gracie over for dinner sometime soon? I miss that girl. She always loved my carrot cake. She has good taste.”
My mother was observant. Way too observant sometimes. She had the mother’s intuition thing down to a science. “What makes you think this has anything to do with Gracie?” I asked, more for my own amusement than anything else. There was no fooling Eileen Abrams.
Mom gave me a look that could only be described as a bitch, please . I covered my mouth with my fist and coughed to cover my laughter.
“I may be old, but I’m not stupid, child. Now get into the cabinet and find the chili flakes for your dear mother.”
I did as I was told and grabbed the spice she needed. “Sophie and I broke up because we weren’t right for each other.”
“And it took you a year to figure out? It seems you’ve become a little soft in the head in your old age. Maybe it’s all that noise from your amplifiers. It short circuited something,” Mom teased.
“You’re hysterical, Mom,” I deadpanned.
Mom shook in a handful of red flakes and passed the container back to me so I could put it away. “I didn’t raise you to be a runner, Mitch. And it seems to me that you’ve been running a marathon.”
“What did Charlotte tell you?” I asked, instantly suspicious. Charlotte knew something had happened with Gracie, even though she didn’t know the particulars. I was sure she and Mom had been having a good gab at my expense.
