Rock the Beat
Page 31
Jackson hasn’t come around the track since the fight last week. Maybe that’s for the best. It’s good to know it’s finally over and he doesn’t deem me worthy of fighting for. At least I know where I stand with him.
“I think I’m finally able to decipher Bill’s chicken scratch. It’s only taken me a week to get it.” Trip looks up from the binder full of office expenses he’s going through and asks, “Where is Bill? He’s been outside washing the bikes for a long time. Do you want me to go check on him?”
I stand and stretch my arms. “That’s okay. I’ll go do it. I need a break anyhow.”
He nods and then returns his attention back to taking notes. I glance up at the clock. Those bikes must’ve been really dirty—Dad’s been out there for nearly four hours.
The garage door is wide open and I hear water slapping the concrete around the corner. I pause the moment my eyes focus on the source of the sound. Jackson is there washing the bikes. I glance around, searching for Dad, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Jackson notices me watching him and shuts off the water before tossing the hose to the ground. He dries his hands on seat of his pants as he approaches me. “Hey, Holl. How are you?”
I twist my fingers together. This is an encounter I’m not prepared for. “I’m good. What are you doing here?”
He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “I came by to see you, hoping we could talk, but I ran into your dad. He didn’t look well, so I told him to go rest and I’d finish up here.”
“Thank you. That was sweet of you. He’s been like that for a while, but he refuses to go to the doctor,” I admit.
“If it’s money…I can help with the bills if he needs to be checked out. I don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “I can’t take anything from you, Jackson.”
He rubs his hand over his shaved head. “Max told me why that Trip guy is here.”
I fold my arms. “That wasn’t Max’s business to tell.”
“Don’t be mad at him. He was only trying to help. Max knows I have connections in this business. Why haven’t you come to me about this place’s money problems?”
I shrug. “By the time I found out how bad things truly were the bank was starting the foreclosure process. There’s nothing you could’ve done at that point. That’s why I didn’t go back to school this fall. Dad needs my help until this investor comes through.”
He frowns. “I wish I would’ve known that your father was struggling so much. He never said a word about it.”
“He’s too proud. It was hard for him to tell me. All year at school I didn’t have a clue either. Nothing was mentioned until I came home this summer. I had to corner him about why he was a pile of bones and always so stressed. It broke my heart when he told me.”
“What happened to all the money from last summer’s events? Did he tell you where it went?”
My body tenses and I nod. “He gave it all to her.”
Jackson’s mouth pulls into a tight line. “You mean Grace?”
Visions of the last time I saw of the egg donor pop into my head. She came here with some skinny, grease-ball looking guy in a beat-up pick-up truck, geeking out of her mind. Her blonde hair was clumped together in sections, like it hadn’t seen water or soap in weeks, and there were red splotches all over her skin. It was so clear she chose her drug habit over everything thing else in her life—including food. She was so skinny a stiff breeze would knock her over. Nothing else matters to her—not even me—except finding a way to get her next fix. “Yeah. Dad’s been an easy mark since I’ve been away. He’s determined to believe my mother is still in there somewhere.”
“Jesus,” he mutters.
Jackson and Max are my only two friends that know all about my mother, and how my father has spent the better part of half my life trying to save her from herself. I know Trip is searching everywhere in those binders in the office for the answer for why this track is failing, but he’s not going to find it in there. There’s no place in those files for, “Give all money to drug-addict wife and ruin everyone else’s lives”.
Tears fill my vision and I drop my head and bat them away. Thinking of Grace does this to me every time. I wish there was a way to wipe someone out of your memory and life for good.
Jackson wraps his arms around me and I cling to him. “Please let me help you? Come to dinner with me tonight. I have a plan to save the track I want to talk to you about.”
I sniff. “Okay. Just as friends.”
“Of course,” he replies.
I rub my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
He doesn’t say a word, only tugs me tighter and allows the emotion to flow out of me.
TRIP
Holly’s been gone a long time. I wonder if Bill is okay? I’ve gotten to know the routine around here pretty well over the last week, and for Bill to take this long to do anything is out of character. He’s a hard worker, but gets gassed easily. I can’t count the number of times Holly has begged her father to go to the doctor, and I’ve even found myself taking her side on the topic.
Spending all my time with Bill and Holly reminds me of how nice having a regular life with a family can be, but it also brings on the concern you feel for others well-being. On the road it’s easy just to care about myself and the other guys in the band. It feels so surreal that it’s easy to pretend everyone else’s problems don’t exist—only finding concern when it affects me directly.
“I think I’m finally able to decipher Bill’s chicken scratch. It’s only taken me a week to get it.” Trip looks up from the binder full of office expenses he’s going through and asks, “Where is Bill? He’s been outside washing the bikes for a long time. Do you want me to go check on him?”
I stand and stretch my arms. “That’s okay. I’ll go do it. I need a break anyhow.”
He nods and then returns his attention back to taking notes. I glance up at the clock. Those bikes must’ve been really dirty—Dad’s been out there for nearly four hours.
The garage door is wide open and I hear water slapping the concrete around the corner. I pause the moment my eyes focus on the source of the sound. Jackson is there washing the bikes. I glance around, searching for Dad, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Jackson notices me watching him and shuts off the water before tossing the hose to the ground. He dries his hands on seat of his pants as he approaches me. “Hey, Holl. How are you?”
I twist my fingers together. This is an encounter I’m not prepared for. “I’m good. What are you doing here?”
He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “I came by to see you, hoping we could talk, but I ran into your dad. He didn’t look well, so I told him to go rest and I’d finish up here.”
“Thank you. That was sweet of you. He’s been like that for a while, but he refuses to go to the doctor,” I admit.
“If it’s money…I can help with the bills if he needs to be checked out. I don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “I can’t take anything from you, Jackson.”
He rubs his hand over his shaved head. “Max told me why that Trip guy is here.”
I fold my arms. “That wasn’t Max’s business to tell.”
“Don’t be mad at him. He was only trying to help. Max knows I have connections in this business. Why haven’t you come to me about this place’s money problems?”
I shrug. “By the time I found out how bad things truly were the bank was starting the foreclosure process. There’s nothing you could’ve done at that point. That’s why I didn’t go back to school this fall. Dad needs my help until this investor comes through.”
He frowns. “I wish I would’ve known that your father was struggling so much. He never said a word about it.”
“He’s too proud. It was hard for him to tell me. All year at school I didn’t have a clue either. Nothing was mentioned until I came home this summer. I had to corner him about why he was a pile of bones and always so stressed. It broke my heart when he told me.”
“What happened to all the money from last summer’s events? Did he tell you where it went?”
My body tenses and I nod. “He gave it all to her.”
Jackson’s mouth pulls into a tight line. “You mean Grace?”
Visions of the last time I saw of the egg donor pop into my head. She came here with some skinny, grease-ball looking guy in a beat-up pick-up truck, geeking out of her mind. Her blonde hair was clumped together in sections, like it hadn’t seen water or soap in weeks, and there were red splotches all over her skin. It was so clear she chose her drug habit over everything thing else in her life—including food. She was so skinny a stiff breeze would knock her over. Nothing else matters to her—not even me—except finding a way to get her next fix. “Yeah. Dad’s been an easy mark since I’ve been away. He’s determined to believe my mother is still in there somewhere.”
“Jesus,” he mutters.
Jackson and Max are my only two friends that know all about my mother, and how my father has spent the better part of half my life trying to save her from herself. I know Trip is searching everywhere in those binders in the office for the answer for why this track is failing, but he’s not going to find it in there. There’s no place in those files for, “Give all money to drug-addict wife and ruin everyone else’s lives”.
Tears fill my vision and I drop my head and bat them away. Thinking of Grace does this to me every time. I wish there was a way to wipe someone out of your memory and life for good.
Jackson wraps his arms around me and I cling to him. “Please let me help you? Come to dinner with me tonight. I have a plan to save the track I want to talk to you about.”
I sniff. “Okay. Just as friends.”
“Of course,” he replies.
I rub my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
He doesn’t say a word, only tugs me tighter and allows the emotion to flow out of me.
TRIP
Holly’s been gone a long time. I wonder if Bill is okay? I’ve gotten to know the routine around here pretty well over the last week, and for Bill to take this long to do anything is out of character. He’s a hard worker, but gets gassed easily. I can’t count the number of times Holly has begged her father to go to the doctor, and I’ve even found myself taking her side on the topic.
Spending all my time with Bill and Holly reminds me of how nice having a regular life with a family can be, but it also brings on the concern you feel for others well-being. On the road it’s easy just to care about myself and the other guys in the band. It feels so surreal that it’s easy to pretend everyone else’s problems don’t exist—only finding concern when it affects me directly.
