Never Enough
Page 36
He looked down at the guitar and saw it through Miles’s eyes. “Yeah. I’ve had this guitar just a little longer than you’ve been alive. It’s still my favorite.”
He turned to see Miles’s eyes wide as he looked at the guitar. He held it out. “Wanna try it?”
Miles backed up a step, his hands up. “Oh, I don’t know. Wow. That’s like. Like a 1959 Sunburst?” He dragged his gaze from the guitar back up to Adrian’s face. “I looked it up. You know when you first came around I looked you up on the Internet. Is that weird?”
Adrian couldn’t help his laugh. “Nah, dude, this whole situation has been wild. I’m glad you looked me up on the Internet, but also, if you want to know about it, ask me. I know we’ve got a lot of stuff to learn about each other.”
Miles nodded, ducking his head in a way Adrian recognized in both Brown brothers. He tipped his chin to indicate the guitar. “I don’t think I’ve seen one for real. Just, you know, on the Internet. This is a special thing. You know, the few of your things that’s so special you’re allowed to be a bit greedy over.”
Adrian liked Gillian even more right then.
“Yes, this guitar is totally my special thing. But I get to be greedy with her all the time. I’ve used this guitar on every single CD I’ve made but the first one.” He ran his fingertips along the little modifications he’d made over time. Hardware swaps and additions.
This guitar, until Miles had come along, had been his most precious thing. And his son got that. Christ, he was a lucky man.
He held the guitar out toward Miles. “I can share my special thing with my son. That’s the sort of thing dads are supposed to do, right?”
Miles couldn’t hold the edges of his excited smile back as he stared at the guitar. “Dude, take it. You’re not going to break it. You know how to hold an instrument. I’m not worried.” He handed the guitar over and moved past Miles out toward the stairs, wanting to show just how unconcerned he was that Miles would be anything but careful.
It made Adrian ridiculously happy to share it with Miles, with someone who understood the beauty of your own guitar. With his son. Damn.
They set up in the garage, where Miles’s band had the practice space.
“Mum jams with me in the house, but when we practice, she comes out here.” Miles pointed to the stand-up piano in the corner.
“Is she good then?”
Miles plugged his bass in and then returned to Adrian’s guitar, sliding his fingers along the smooth-worn spot just below the strings, the spot he’d wear on his own guitar someday.
“Yeah, she’s mag. I never heard anyone play like her, even her friends she takes us to see when they come to town.”
He had a piano in his studio; he’d have to see if he could lure her into playing something for him. And maybe the story about why she didn’t pursue it professionally other than as a piano teacher.
Miles handed him the guitar.
Adrian grinned, plugged in and gave the strings a brush, eliciting a Brody-like grin in return.
For the next hour they went over the chords for “Creep,” a simple enough bass line for Miles to learn. Also a great bass line to show just how integral a bass player was to a band. And then they noodled around with other stuff, just playing and riffing off one another.
“Tomorrow,” Adrian said as they put things away and headed back to the house, “we should get your aunt to get in on this. She’s been pestering me to play with us.” He laughed, because it had been true.
“Yeah? But you guys are like, wow, well, rock stars and stuff. I’m just a kid.”
He turned, clasping his son’s shoulder. “You’re my son. You’re her nephew. We started at your age. Music runs in the family, it’s what we like to do, you know, like the family business and all. It’s fun, isn’t it?”
Miles’s features lit up, excited again. “Yeah. I’d play all the time if Mum didn’t make me go to school and take out the trash and stuff.” He paused. “Not that I’m complaining. She’s a great mom. She wants me to get an education and be responsible.”
“It’s okay, I know. She is a good mom. I like that you call her Mum.” They climbed up the deck and went through the house just as Gillian wandered past, laughing at something a man he’d never seen was saying.
“Cal!” Miles moved to bump fists with the other man, who looked at Adrian’s son with affection clear on his features.
“Good to see you, my man. Your mom tells me you were out jamming with your dad. How’d it go?”
Adrian relaxed slightly.
“Awesome. He taught me some new stuff. You staying for dinner?”
“Well, I . . .” He turned to Adrian, clearly taking his measure. “I’m Cal Whaley. Gillian’s attorney and a friend too.”
“He’s pretty much a member of our family. Miles, take your things to your room please.” Gillian moved past them into the kitchen. “Cal, you know you’re welcome, though it’s grilled cheese and tomato soup night so you’d probably get better if you showed up at Mary’s looking hungry.”
Adrian shook the man’s hand. “Adrian Brown, nice to meet you.”
“Mary told me I was on my own. You know how she can be some Fridays.” Cal sent a look to Gillian, who laughed.
“Mary is my friend, she runs one of those mobile food trucks, called Luxe. She’s a master cook. Never made a thing I haven’t adored with all my taste buds. But sometimes on Friday nights she calls in pizza, hunkers down and does not answer her phone. Cal’s her brother.”
He turned to see Miles’s eyes wide as he looked at the guitar. He held it out. “Wanna try it?”
Miles backed up a step, his hands up. “Oh, I don’t know. Wow. That’s like. Like a 1959 Sunburst?” He dragged his gaze from the guitar back up to Adrian’s face. “I looked it up. You know when you first came around I looked you up on the Internet. Is that weird?”
Adrian couldn’t help his laugh. “Nah, dude, this whole situation has been wild. I’m glad you looked me up on the Internet, but also, if you want to know about it, ask me. I know we’ve got a lot of stuff to learn about each other.”
Miles nodded, ducking his head in a way Adrian recognized in both Brown brothers. He tipped his chin to indicate the guitar. “I don’t think I’ve seen one for real. Just, you know, on the Internet. This is a special thing. You know, the few of your things that’s so special you’re allowed to be a bit greedy over.”
Adrian liked Gillian even more right then.
“Yes, this guitar is totally my special thing. But I get to be greedy with her all the time. I’ve used this guitar on every single CD I’ve made but the first one.” He ran his fingertips along the little modifications he’d made over time. Hardware swaps and additions.
This guitar, until Miles had come along, had been his most precious thing. And his son got that. Christ, he was a lucky man.
He held the guitar out toward Miles. “I can share my special thing with my son. That’s the sort of thing dads are supposed to do, right?”
Miles couldn’t hold the edges of his excited smile back as he stared at the guitar. “Dude, take it. You’re not going to break it. You know how to hold an instrument. I’m not worried.” He handed the guitar over and moved past Miles out toward the stairs, wanting to show just how unconcerned he was that Miles would be anything but careful.
It made Adrian ridiculously happy to share it with Miles, with someone who understood the beauty of your own guitar. With his son. Damn.
They set up in the garage, where Miles’s band had the practice space.
“Mum jams with me in the house, but when we practice, she comes out here.” Miles pointed to the stand-up piano in the corner.
“Is she good then?”
Miles plugged his bass in and then returned to Adrian’s guitar, sliding his fingers along the smooth-worn spot just below the strings, the spot he’d wear on his own guitar someday.
“Yeah, she’s mag. I never heard anyone play like her, even her friends she takes us to see when they come to town.”
He had a piano in his studio; he’d have to see if he could lure her into playing something for him. And maybe the story about why she didn’t pursue it professionally other than as a piano teacher.
Miles handed him the guitar.
Adrian grinned, plugged in and gave the strings a brush, eliciting a Brody-like grin in return.
For the next hour they went over the chords for “Creep,” a simple enough bass line for Miles to learn. Also a great bass line to show just how integral a bass player was to a band. And then they noodled around with other stuff, just playing and riffing off one another.
“Tomorrow,” Adrian said as they put things away and headed back to the house, “we should get your aunt to get in on this. She’s been pestering me to play with us.” He laughed, because it had been true.
“Yeah? But you guys are like, wow, well, rock stars and stuff. I’m just a kid.”
He turned, clasping his son’s shoulder. “You’re my son. You’re her nephew. We started at your age. Music runs in the family, it’s what we like to do, you know, like the family business and all. It’s fun, isn’t it?”
Miles’s features lit up, excited again. “Yeah. I’d play all the time if Mum didn’t make me go to school and take out the trash and stuff.” He paused. “Not that I’m complaining. She’s a great mom. She wants me to get an education and be responsible.”
“It’s okay, I know. She is a good mom. I like that you call her Mum.” They climbed up the deck and went through the house just as Gillian wandered past, laughing at something a man he’d never seen was saying.
“Cal!” Miles moved to bump fists with the other man, who looked at Adrian’s son with affection clear on his features.
“Good to see you, my man. Your mom tells me you were out jamming with your dad. How’d it go?”
Adrian relaxed slightly.
“Awesome. He taught me some new stuff. You staying for dinner?”
“Well, I . . .” He turned to Adrian, clearly taking his measure. “I’m Cal Whaley. Gillian’s attorney and a friend too.”
“He’s pretty much a member of our family. Miles, take your things to your room please.” Gillian moved past them into the kitchen. “Cal, you know you’re welcome, though it’s grilled cheese and tomato soup night so you’d probably get better if you showed up at Mary’s looking hungry.”
Adrian shook the man’s hand. “Adrian Brown, nice to meet you.”
“Mary told me I was on my own. You know how she can be some Fridays.” Cal sent a look to Gillian, who laughed.
“Mary is my friend, she runs one of those mobile food trucks, called Luxe. She’s a master cook. Never made a thing I haven’t adored with all my taste buds. But sometimes on Friday nights she calls in pizza, hunkers down and does not answer her phone. Cal’s her brother.”
