19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Laredo
“ S o let me get this straight. You stayed up all night writing an original song for Ariel, which you suspect she loves, yet when she told you to go back to the hotel room to get some rest, you did?” I tease my inexperienced younger brother for the fifteenth time.
I was taking my time headed to the morning studio session only two hours after the ridiculously Ariel-mandated start time when I crossed paths with Adam on the boardwalk at a carnival stand, of all places.”
“Lyrics and all?” I poke him, knowing I’ll get a reaction. Adam has never written a song by himself before. Hailey is the lyricist in our family. Adam and I both lean on her heavily when forced to write.
He nods, defeat in his shoulders. “I’ll never apologize.”
“Let me be the judge of that. I’ll have to hear the tune first.”
“No, asswipe. The name of the song is ‘I’ll Never Apologize.’” He stuffs his hand deep into his back pocket, a nervous habit that speaks to his discomfort with this topic. Both Hailey and I have prodded him in this direction. We see his vast potential. “And yes, I wrote it for her because she’s looking for a new sound. But it’s not about her.”
I chuckle and point to the studio ahead of us. “Keep telling yourself that. Let’s see what she thinks.”
We climb the stairs to the second-floor studio, and I almost mention the pride I feel for Adam. Not just for finally stepping out and writing a song on his own but for pursuing his interest in a woman who, a week ago, he’d never dream of approaching.
Adam pushes through the door and stops. On the door to the studio is a yellow post with three words scribbled in large letters— Tired of Waiting.
“Fudge,” Adam barks, and I cannot suppress my laugh.
“Told you.” I should stop, but I don’t. I need Adam to remain brave and not shrug his shoulders and accept defeat when he hits the first obstacle. “You shouldn’t have left. You might’ve just blown your only shot. What are you going to do now?”
I pivot and head back down the steps, taking them two at a time. My mind races ahead to having a free afternoon and reconnecting with Betty.
Adam waits until we’re back on the streets before responding to my question. “What do you mean? This note is for both of us. She’s flown us out here to help her. She’s paid who knows how much to rent out the studio for the entire week. You don’t bother to show up for hours. And I left her alone. If she wanted to rehearse in a studio by herself, she wouldn’t need us. This is her telling us that. Don’t read any more into her message than that.”
“Or…” I love my brother. He’s always kind and caring to a fault. It places blinders on him in reading the motivation of others. “… my take on the message. Hey, Adam,” I say in a breathy voice. “How could you stay up all night, write me this emotionally beautiful song, and then walk away? Dude, really? Do I have to make the first move?”
He freezes, my words worming their way through his insecurities. It’ll force him to consider getting out of his own way and dreaming big. “No.” He dismisses me out of hand. “That’s your perspective. You think every woman in the world is after you. I’ll never forget when you hit on your English teacher, Miss Washington, back in high school.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “She totally wanted me. I threw together that essay in ten minutes before class, and she gave it an A plus with two hearts written in the margin.”
“Then how come you still can’t explain to me why she transferred you out of her class a week later when you asked her for private home tutoring?” I begin to speak when Adam lifts a finger at me, not to answer the question. “Please don’t take me to Spin City again. I don’t have the stomach for it.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder to let me know there’s no malice in his words.
We’ve come a long way from a year ago when we were at each other’s throats constantly. Losing our parents when we were teenagers sent us spiraling in opposite directions from one another.
“Last word, and then I’ll drop it. Promise.” I give him the Boy Scout pledge salute, even though I was never a Boy Scout. “I suspect Ariel was only being nice when she invited me along. You’re the one she wants to work with. Eight a.m. start time—really? Does any of that sound like me? You are the early bird, mister punctual. She chose that time for you.”
I ignore the dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re only a few days in, and she’s already moved you up to the lead guitarist.” I paint the picture for him, the one he’s refused to see up to now. I’ll do my big-brotherly duties and show him the way. “You’ve written her a song. You’re giving her exactly what she is looking for, a new sound. You’re not coming to the party empty-handed. Her note is a challenge.”
I give him a few seconds for my words to marinade. “So, ask yourself, what are you prepared to do?”
He kicks at a mound of sand that somehow made its way onto the boardwalk, his eyes focusing on the cloud of gritty dust. I’ve said my piece. I make a fine wingman regardless of what Adam claims.
We enjoy the silence for a few strides, sweat forming on the back of my neck. “How did things go with Betty last night? You returning to the scene of the crime is not your usual MO.”
He wants to change subjects. Fine. He’s kidding, but the intended jab feels like a Mike Tyson kidney punch. A well-earned blow, but it still pains. “I should’ve known better. Things have changed from a year ago.” An image of Betty and me racing barefoot on the sand flashes in my head. “Last year was perfection. Not a care in the world. Just the two of us. I never thought two people could be like that—on the same wavelength all the time. It was…”
“It wasn’t real.” Adam delivers another blow, this one right to the chin. “You were in a festival bubble.” He gives a playful shove to the back of my shoulder. “You’ve told me about it for years. Women get caught up in the excitement. They meet an artist and live out their fantasy for a few days.” He clears his throat, hesitant to continue. “I’ve seen you enjoy it for years. Why is this one different?”
“It is.” I don’t hesitate. “It’s Betty.” My voice rises, a threatening, defensive tone biting through the air. “She’s not some festival fling. She’s never been. We had an incredible connection, and I still feel it.”
“Whoa, is the bad boy of the family falling in love?” Adam jokes, but I don’t have an answer. I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with Betty. I have no clue what love feels like. It’s not an emotion I’ve spent any time attempting to decipher. Not for me. Not when there always was another concert and another girl.
“I don’t know what it is, but I think I want to try to find out.” Adam turns toward the exit ramp leading back to our hotel. I pause. “Can I show you something, and please don’t make fun of me?”
I reach for my phone. He shakes his head, his laugh letting me know he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. I swipe until I find what I’m looking for, and Adam’s laughter disappears. I’m sure he’s reading the seriousness on my face. “We were having a moment onstage last night. A really special moment, and I thought we were about to reconnect when she disappeared and sent me this.”
I give him a few seconds to read the message. He glances up at me, brows pinched, swipes back down, and reads it again. And then a third time.
“You know I’ve always been envious of your talents, right?” Adam starts with a previous hot-button issue between us. We’re no longer in that place, and I can see and accept his compliment without our history clouding the words.
“Yeah.”
“Things come to you easy. Things others must work their tails off to even have a chance.” He squeezes the phone, his gaze stuck there. “To this day, I spend two hours every day practicing the bass guitar. Something I’ve been playing since I was ten years old. I’ve put in my ten thousand hours twice by now. I doubt you’ve spent more than a tenth of that. Yet you play it better than I do. Better than most musicians I know.”
I bite my tongue. A year ago, my self-defense mechanism would have kicked in, and I would have attacked. The adage the best defense is a loud, obnoxious offense. But I don’t. Things are different between us now. His words are filled with love and a desire for me to be a better person.
“I used to resent that about you. But I realize now it’s not just a gift but also a curse.” He hands me the phone. “You’ve taken things for granted. People too. Read it again.”
I don’t need to. I’ve read it a dozen times. I’ve memorized every word. “What do you see?”
“How do you not see it? You say you care for this woman?”
I nod.
“She needs you to show her you do. She wants you to earn the privilege of being in her life.”
My fingers fly across the screen, and I attempt to see this time what Adam sees. And it clicks. Written between the lines is her message. She could have written the same three words Ariel left for Adam— tired of waiting.
His words hit me like a boomerang as Adam throws my own advice back at me, asking, “What are you prepared to do?”