Chapter 21
WRAP IT UP
JESSE
Obsessed by Jutes
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, covering my eyes dramatically as I walk into the kitchen and see that my dad has my mom pressed to the kitchen island, his hands tangled in her auburn hair as he kisses her. “Get a room. Preferably one that isn’t the kitchen.”
Fuck, it’s already been taken.
They break apart, laughing. My mom’s cheeks flush pink as she smooths down her hair, but her eyes sparkle with unrepentant mischief. Dad doesn’t look even slightly embarrassed, if anything, he grins wider, like he’s proud of being caught making out with his wife in their own kitchen.
“Language, Jesse,” my mom warns.
“We have a room,” Dad says. “Several, actually. We own the whole house.”
“Disgusting.” I shake my head, even as a laugh slips out. “That’s my mother you just had your tongue down. I should not have to witness my parents acting like horny teenagers.”
Mom doesn’t miss a beat, smoothing Dad’s shirt like she’s doing it on purpose now. “You came into the kitchen unannounced. That’s on you.”
“I came in for a fucking protein bar,” I shoot back, opening the cabinet. “Not to be emotionally scarred.”
Dad grins, completely unapologetic. “I’m sure you’ll live.”
“Debatable,” I mutter. “Some things should stay private. Like… whatever that was.” I gesture between the two of them.
Dad pulls Mom closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Your mother’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Sue me for not being able to keep my hands off her.”
“Now that is how you get the girl,” Mom laughs and melts against him. The way they look at each other, like they’re sharing secrets the rest of the world will never understand, sends a pang of longing through my chest.
They’ve always had this easy affection, the inside jokes. Dad worships her like she hung the moon. Even after all the mess, maybe even especially because of the mess.
“Where are you headed, sweetheart?” Mom asks, finally extricating herself from Dad’s arms to focus on me.
“Studio session with Dylan,” I lie smoothly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “Might be late.”
She nods, but she’s not really buying it. “Make sure you eat something before you go,” she says, moving to the pantry.
“Thanks, but I’ve lost my appetite,” I say.
She throws me a bar. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
I pocket the protein bar.
“Can I steal you for a minute before you head out?” Dad asks, the tone in his voice is warm but still makes me pause.
“I don’t want to be late.”
“I think you have a minute,” he says.
Mom looks between us, reading the subtext. She presses a quick kiss to my cheek, her hand lingering on my arm. “Be safe.”
As her footsteps fade down the hallway, Dad leans against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. The pendant lights above reveal the silver threading heavily through his once dark hair.
“So,” he says, his tone deceptively casual. “Want to tell me what you’ve really been up to?”
Fuck. My heart rate spikes, but I keep my expression neutral. Does he know about the mask? Or worse, does he know about Joey? “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Jesse.” His mouth quirks into a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been in this business longer than you’ve been alive. I know the difference between session work and whatever’s been keeping you out until three in the morning most weekends.”
Shit. I hadn’t realized he’d been tracking my movements that closely.
“I’ve been working on some stuff,” I admit, which isn’t technically a lie.
“What kind of stuff?”
I drag a hand through my hair, buying time.
I hate lying to him, hate the way it makes me feel like I’m betraying everything he taught me about honesty and authenticity.
But performing with a mask isn’t something I’m ready to admit, not to him.
At least not yet. He’ll know it’s because of him and then blame himself.
“Just some songs. Nothing ready to share yet.”
His eyes narrow slightly, and I know he’s not buying it completely. But instead of pushing, he shifts tactics.
“You haven’t been home some nights,” he observes. “Everything okay? Are you seeing someone?”
I know my expression betrays me right now. Images of Joey flash through my mind, the sound of her laugh and how a simple smile on her face ruins me.
“No,” I lie. “Not seeing anyone.”
Would you call sneaking through your best friend’s window a few nights a week, seeing someone?
A knowing expression flickers behind his eyes. “You know it’s fine if you are, right?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“I need to head out,” I say, desperate to escape before I confess everything. My dad has a way of dragging out truths from me. “Don’t want to be late.”
I grab my keys from the counter, mentally rehearsing the evening ahead. I’m already having a mental meltdown about playing the Fonda Theatre.
I pull out my phone and type quickly.
Jesse: Can’t wait to see you.
Jesse: Give security the code word Golden and they’ll let you backstage.
I hit send and immediately slip the phone into my pocket.
“Jesse.” Dad’s voice stops me at the kitchen doorway. I was this close to making an escape. I turn around to face him.
“I know you said you’re not seeing anyone, but if you were…” He gives me one of those knowing looks that makes my stomach clench. Please don’t be talking about what I think you’re talking about. “I hope you’re being safe.”
Oh God. “Ah, like you were being safe with Mom?” I shoot back, lifting an eyebrow. It’s no secret that I wasn’t planned.
“This is exactly what I’m saying,” he grins, completely unashamed. “O’Donnell men have strong swimmers.”
“Jesus Christ, haven’t you traumatized me enough tonight?” I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Stop. You gave me the sex talk years ago. Why do I have to go through this again?”
“And I’ll keep saying it to make sure it sticks. You know how to use a condom, right?”
“Dad, stop, I’m begging you.”
“Make sure you wrap it up.” He motions to my crotch and I want the kitchen floor to open up and swallow me whole.
“Dad,” I groan.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Jesus, I wrap it up. Are you happy? Can I go now?” I inch my way to the door.
“Go, go,” he waves me toward the door, laughing. “Make good choices and shit like that.”
I’m already halfway through the doorway when his voice follows me, softer now.
As I walk toward the garage, my phone buzzes with Joey’s response.
Joey: Golden? What kind of code word is that?
The image of Joey in my head, all golden skin and hair, has me smiling from ear to ear.
Jesse: The color of your hair. Golden.
Joey: Ohhhh, I thought you were referring to my pussy.
Jesse: That too.
I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine.