Chapter 3
Before that fateful day, Zack texted us all, asking us to join him online for a quick meeting.
When I got on my laptop, I hoped our faces wouldn’t give away what was coming.
Braden had told me Cy wasn’t happy about the whole thing but that he’d be there anyway.
Knowing it would only be a few of us and that he wouldn’t have to say anything if he didn’t want to sealed the deal.
When I logged on, I was surprised that Cy and Braden weren’t at Zack’s place. Instead, Braden was on his phone in what I thought might be his bedroom and Cy was sitting with a laptop actually on his lap.
Zack was in his kitchen. “Hey, dudes. We got the advance and I need to send you all your share…but I thought now might be a good time to talk about how we divvy it up.”
“We split it four ways,” Cy said, matter of fact as always.
“I can do that—but I just wanted to remind you guys about how the royalties will work when we finally start getting them. You’re all gonna get recording royalties—and you’ll get an equal share of touring income too…but the publishing royalties will be different.”
Braden asked, “What do you mean?”
“I’m credited as the only songwriter on most of the songs—which is fair and honest—but that means I’ll be owed more down the line.” Although it was “fair and honest” like Zack said, he was being a bit of a prick about how he said it. And now probably wasn’t a good time to bring it up.
“So?” Cy asked.
“So…do we want to split it realistically or just have everyone get an equal amount?”
Why the hell was he asking? Was he wanting to hoard more of it?
But before my anger could get the best of me, Braden said, “Dude, we need to split it equally. We all gotta live right now. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have, like, four bucks left over from unspent per diems and barely anything in my checking account.
That’s not gonna last me until whenever we start getting actual money. ”
Cy and I agreed.
“Okay—I just wanted to know. I’ll Venmo it to you.”
And, with that, he disconnected the meeting.
It felt rude and cold, making me wonder if that too was due to his drinking.
Something I hadn’t said to his mom was how much his personality had changed since his alcohol consumption had escalated…
and I worried that Drunk Rock Star Zack might overtake Sweet Boy Zack for all time.
I only hoped this intervention wasn’t coming too late.
My phone vibrated and I saw Braden’s name flash across the screen. I figured he was feeling the same way. But after I answered the phone, he surprised me. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner tonight. Like you said…like a real date.”
Oh. His voice was so soft, so earnest, so sweet. I couldn’t say no to him, so we agreed that he would pick me up at five that evening.
And this time I’d probably tell my mom not to wait up for me…even if it wasn’t the best idea.
Braden arrived at five o’clock on the dot and surprised me again—this time with a bouquet of white and pink flowers. And he was wearing a suit.
“Oh, shit,” I said, opening the door wider. “I’m underdressed.” That was an understatement. I was wearing one of my touring t-shirts, ripped jeans, and an old pair of black sneakers that I hadn’t worn since high school.
“You look great.”
“You’re blind. Please come in for a sec while I change clothes.” And I hoped to do it quick enough to avoid my mother returning from her trip to the tiny market located on one of the two blocks that constituted Nopal’s Main Street. I didn’t want to have to explain to her that I was dating Braden.
“Um, where do you want these?” Turning, I saw Braden holding the beautiful flowers that I hadn’t put my nose to yet.
“Oh, uh…” I started walking toward the kitchen and he followed.
“I think my mom has some vases under the sink.” I rifled through the cabinet, past the dishwashing liquid and powder for the dishwasher, bug spray, stuff for cleaning the floor and stove, empty coffee cans, and finally found three vases.
One of them looked tall and wide enough to accommodate the lovely bunch of flowers Braden had brought for me.
“Do you mind putting them in there while I change really fast?”
Although the expression on his face told me he’d rather do anything else, he said, “Sure.” As I darted out of the kitchen, he raised his voice. “Our reservation’s for five-thirty.”
Reservation? Jesus. Braden was taking this a whole lot more seriously than I had.
As I tore through my closet, I found one lone dress: a sundress I’d worn once during the summer between my junior and senior year, and only because my mother had bought it for me.
But it was the only dress I owned. My feminist streak had made me abhor all things girlie, as I wanted to be considered one of the boys.
True, I still had a couple of leather miniskirts but I considered those touring costumes.
What was in this closet was Dani, the hometown girl from Nopal. I’d shoved all my touring clothing, save the shirt on my back, in a couple of drawers after laundering it, and I didn’t want to see it again for a while.
Relieved I’d shaved my legs in preparation for possibly spending the night with Braden, I rubbed lotion on them quickly and then looked for shoes in my closet that might be appropriate.
There was an old pair of flip-flops that had seen far better days.
The sundress was a light blue on a background of white with flecks of red and yellow, and the flipflops were lavender. No way.
I finally decided to wear the pair of black Converse that I’d worn on the road.
They were in decent shape and, paired with no-show socks, looked okay with the dress.
But the evenings could still be cool this time of year, so I grabbed my jean jacket and tucked my phone and wallet into one of the pockets.
Glancing at myself in the mirror, I thought I looked okay. My hair had grown longer over the past year and I considered trying to put it up a bit but changed my mind. I looked less like a groupie and more like a young woman who didn’t want to embarrass her date.
As I left the bedroom, I reminded myself that I needed to be careful with Braden’s heart. He obviously cared about me a lot and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him like Zack had hurt me. “Okay, I’m ready,” I said, popping into the kitchen.
Braden’s chocolate eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Was that good or bad? It wasn’t until he spoke that I knew for certain. “You are gorgeous,” he said, acting like he wanted to pull me into an embrace but keeping his hands to himself.
I couldn’t help but grin. “And so are these flowers!” Putting my nose up to the lovely petals, I drew in a deep breath, taking in the scents of delicate sweetness.
I picked up the vase and moved it to the table and then, wanting to send Braden the right signals, put my hand in his to lead him out of the house. If we hurried, we just might—
But, of course, as we got close to the front door, I heard my mother’s keys as she tried unlocking a door that was already unlocked.
So I turned the knob gently and pulled it open slowly.
At first, she said, “Dani, it’s—” Then she paused, taking in both Braden and me, obviously dressed up and going somewhere.
“Can I help you with your bags, Mrs.—”
“Christine. Um, sure. It’s Braden, right?”
At that, he beamed. “Yep.”
She handed him the two bags in her arms and said, “You can put those on the kitchen counter. Dani, come help me get the rest.”
This had been exactly what I’d hoped to avoid.
No sooner were we out of earshot that she said, “Isn’t it a little soon to start dating someone else? Especially Zack’s best friend?”
Oh, God, she had no idea. And there was no way in hell I was going to tell her we’d already crossed that bridge. I hoped to deflect her attention by asking a question of my own. “Didn’t you just go shopping? What’s all this?”
“Well…when you told me you probably wouldn’t be coming home tonight, I decided to make a homecooked meal for my boyfriend.”
Oh.
I had so many questions—but she beat me to the punch. “But you should probably come home tonight, honey. If you think you and Zack—”
“Mom, thanks, but I’m an adult, and I’ve made my decision.”
No matter how stupid it was.
She drew in a quick breath, getting ready to retort—and then closed her lips just as fast. After handing me a bag, she said, “I guess you are…and I suppose I can’t stop you from making the mistakes I did.”
Oh, no. I was pretty sure the mistakes I’d made—and was continuing to make—were far worse than any she’d committed.
But I didn’t want to have this conversation with her.
So, as we walked toward the house, I said in a low voice, “Braden is a really nice guy.” I almost followed it up with saying I deserved to be treated the way Braden wanted to treat me—but was that true? Did I deserve it?
Part of me told myself I deserved no such thing.
But my mother echoed what had been in my mind earlier. “Then treat him nicely.”
I would do my best to try.
Our drive back to Dalton almost felt like what I might call the good old days, because instead of talking about Zack and his problems or about the developing relationship between Braden and me, we focused on topics that felt…normal.
Boring even.
Braden was telling me about how his family’s next-door neighbor was renovating their house.
They’d had the old home torn down completely while we were on tour and the newer, bigger home was getting built.
Braden said they’d been renting an apartment but now that the weather was warming up, they were living in their fifth wheel parked in their back yard.
Between that and contractors on the premises at all hours of the day, his dad was grouchier than usual—but his mother had tried talking his dad into having the neighbors over for a barbecue.