The following Thursday, I drove from the bar to Beauclaire High to pick up Parker after his first practice session with the music program.

As soon as I put the truck in park and rolled down the window further, I heard the sounds of not-so-great music pouring out of the building. I didn’t know where they were rehearsing, whether it was indoors or outdoors, but I could've heard it from a mile down the street.

How many kids were there? I couldn’t imagine too many would be interested in signing up for something like that—few kids wanted to be a band geek, after all—but it sounded like there were more than a handful. Or maybe it was just Parker and Clay making all that noise. I could imagine Parker behind a set of drums, pounding on them like his life depended on it, especially after the way he'd played air drums in my truck.

I didn’t dare go inside, more because I didn’t want to run into Clay than anything else, so again I fired up a cigarette and sat smoking and listening to the music. If I listened hard enough, a distinct rhythm peeked out of the chaos now and then. I hoped Parker was happy. Clay had shown an unexpected interest in him, and that seemed to have boosted Parker's mood.

I hoped he kept it up, no matter what else happened. He needed a hobby, something to keep him out of trouble, and something to keep him out of my hair. For the most part, he entertained himself and just generally did his thing without bothering me. But there were times, like on my days off, when I'd try to make conversation over dinner that everything just fell apart.

It was evident to me that no matter how hard I tried, there would always be a weird gap between us, a hole that would never allow us to be or have the same sort of relationship that many fathers did with their sons. As much as it killed me to admit it, my relationship with Parker was much more like my relationship with my father than I would’ve liked.

But it wasn’t too late to fix that. And that was why I had to keep my distance from Clay and keep my feelings in check because if I didn’t, I could lose everything. The last person I wanted to disappoint was Parker, especially now that he was back in my life and I had a second chance to make things work with him. It was difficult to put into words, but I did love the kid, and I wanted to see him do well. I didn’t want to have to ship him back to Atlanta and leave Charlaine to helicopter around him because it would crush him.

So when I saw Parker's smiling face peek out from the school, my heart skipped a beat. It was great to see him so happy, and when he saw my truck there, he picked up the pace and came running. He still had drumsticks in his hands, and I smiled and waved at him as I flicked the cigarette away. But as soon as the butt hit the pavement, I wished I hadn't let it go, because Clay was right behind him, waving.

“What are you doing?” I asked as Parker reached the truck, leaning inside.

“We’re having a blast. Come and listen, Mr. Johnson says I’m catching on fast,” Parker said. My head spun. I didn’t like the idea, but I couldn’t say no. Parker wanted to share his progress with me, and weren't dads supposed to be supportive of that kind of thing? Lord knows I would've liked for my dad to have been.

“All right, all right, if you insist,” I said, and climbed out of the truck.

“It’s so cool, dad, you can't even believe it,” Parker said.

“He’s doing well,” Clay said, sending chills down my spine. In the time that I'd been talking with Parker, Clay had snuck up on us, already smiling, his hands on his hips. He looked more like a New York runway model than ever, the light hitting his face in such a way to cast deep, sharp shadows. But even in the harsh sunlight, he was gorgeous, like some fevered summer dream.

“Come on,” Parker said and ran back toward the building. Clay laughed and shook his head.

“I can’t believe how quickly he took to this,” Clay said. “I’m glad you came, he’s been talking about you all day.”

“Really?” I asked, unable to believe it. I wasn’t that interesting; I was just a regular dude, I couldn’t see how a teenager would have any interest in me.

“Yes. He said he thinks you’re pretty cool and how happy he is that you’re letting him do this. Honestly, between you and me, that makes two of us,” Clay said as we started to walk back toward the building.

“Why?” I asked.

“It shows you’re interested, that you care about him, and I think that’s what he needs now more than anything else,” Clay said. “I was a kid once too, and I know how it feels not to have an interested parent.” Well, damn, I knew exactly how that felt myself. I hadn’t even been trying to be a cool Dad, but I guess that’s what I’d ended up being. I could live with that.

We wound through the school building in silence, and Clay led me back to the music room. So, that settled that. They were rehearsing in the same place where they had class. To my surprise, there weren’t any other kids in the room, but maybe they'd already left. It was already after five o’clock, after all, I couldn’t imagine most kids would want to stick around at school that long after the last bell had rung.

There was a single drum set put together on the main floor of the room, and a couple of guitars sat on stands around it. Were they holding a full band rehearsal in here? It was pretty damn cool, and I wished they'd done something like that when I was Parker’s age. Maybe then I would’ve actually picked up an instrument and tried to learn how to play it.

“What do you think?” Parker asked. He held his arms out around the equipment. “Pretty fucking awesome, huh?” he asked, and I scowled at him.

“Watch your mouth,” I said, but Clay chuckled.

“Come on, George, if you’re going to be in a rock band, you've gotta have some attitude, right, Parker?” Clay asked, and Parker laughed, nodding. With the drumsticks still in his hand, he sat down behind the kit and started to play. Though Parker had never done it before, or at least not that I knew of, he sounded like he'd been playing for years. He had rhythm I'd never had, and he held the tempo like it was nothing. Though Parker looked a little awkward behind the kit, all long, lanky limbs, it still suited him like it was right where he belonged.

“He’s pretty good, right?” Clay asked, smiling.

“Yeah, he’s amazing,” I said, and I meant it. I'd never heard him play anything before, had never really seen him do any activity before, so his enthusiasm for it impressed me. More than that, though, Clay’s passion for teaching him gave me fluttery feelings in the pit of my stomach. I shook my head, berating myself for being a silly little loon myself, and Clay pulled me aside as Parker continued to play.

“I think this is good for him,” Clay said. “By chance, did you get an opportunity to talk to him about what we talked about?”

“No, not really. I haven’t found a good time to bring it up if there is such a thing as a good time,” I said.

“I understand. Well, in any case, he's doing fantastic. The kid who threw names at him the other day seems to have become a friend of his, especially after practice. His name's Derek. He’s already left, but he and Parker seem to be working through their differences in music,” Clay said.

“Good for them, I’m glad. The last thing I want is for him to have any enemies here at school,” I said.

“I think he’s well on his way to fixing that. Thank you again for letting him play with us, I think it’s making all the difference,” Clay said. “But that reminds me, Parker mentioned you have a younger brother getting married soon?”

“Oh, yeah, he told me that he said something to you about that,” I said, my cheeks burning. “It’s not gonna be anything special; we're just having a little ceremony for him and his husband-to-be at my bar. If y’all want to play some music for the shindig, I’m sure that would be fine, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” I said.

“Are you kidding me? I would love to do that; it would be so much fun. Besides, I think it would be a good way for me to meet some people. Like I said, I’m new to town myself, and I don’t know anyone, aside from you,” Clay said, still smiling. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve sworn he was flirting with me again, trying to say that he wanted to get to know me better than rather than someone else.

“Well, I'll have to talk it over with my brother, just to work out the logistics, but we could probably make something happen if you're interested,” I said.

“Great, just keep me in the loop. You know what, here, why don’t I give you my phone number so we can arrange a time to talk, or just text details back and forth?” he asked, and my heart pounded, clawing its way up my throat. Clay was going to give me his phone number. If that didn’t qualify as flirting, then I was not a southern American. What kind of teacher gave their cell phone number to the parent of a student?

And why the hell couldn't I say no?

Clay went to his office, tore off a piece of paper from a pad on his desk, and scribbled his number down on it. He passed it back to me, and I stared down at it. It was an area code I didn’t recognize, probably still a New York number, but I folded it up and put it in my pocket regardless. I didn’t know whether or not I would use it, and I hoped I would never have to, but it was satisfying to have nonetheless.

Subconsciously, I fingered the paper in my pocket, an awkward smile spreading across my face. It’d been a long damn time since somebody had given me a phone number, and it'd never happened with another man before.

I didn’t know how to take that, didn’t know what to make of it. But I couldn’t deny there was a part of me that really, really liked it. Clay was charming in his way, and though I still couldn't quite figure out what his motive was, I felt like I was getting close.

“Are you guys in here talking about me again?” Parker asked, making both me and Clay jump. I hadn’t noticed he'd stopped playing, much less that he'd snuck into the office with us. He frowned at us, a drumstick dangling from each of his hands.

“Not exactly,” Clay said, smiling. “We were talking about maybe playing some music for your Uncle Jason’s wedding,” Clay said.

“Really?! Oh man, that would be so fucking awesome. I would love to play for the wedding,” Parker said. I opened my mouth to scold him for his language again but realized it was silly of me and let it go. If he was happy, if that was how he expressed things, then he needed the room to do it. Besides, what teenage boys hadn’t uttered a few cuss words?

“Well, it’s not a done deal yet. We still have to talk to Jason and Dan about it. They might not be real keen on having a heavy metal hoedown for their wedding,” I said, and Clay chuckled.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be heavy metal. There's lots of easy rock we could play as well. Like I said, just let me know, and I'll put together a little setlist or something. Me, Parker, and Derek can work on it all together for practice, get it ready in time. When's the wedding anyway?” Clay asked.

“Next week,” I said, and Clay let out a low whistle.

“Okay, that doesn’t give us much time, but we can do it.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Johnson, we are going to fucking rock it,” Parker said.

“I'm sure we will,” Clay said and winked at me. Again I fingered the slip of paper in my pocket, my fingers tingling as they passed over the ink. It wasn’t guaranteed to happen yet, there was still time for it to fall apart, but it seemed more likely to me than not that Clay was coming to Jason’s wedding and that he and Parker were going to play the music.

“Well, we should probably get going. I’m sure Mr. Johnson has some things he needs to take care of that don’t concern you,” I said to Parker, and he let out a groan.

“Do we have to? I could keep playing all day,” Parker said.

“Yes, we have to. We can play some more on Tuesday, or maybe over the weekend if your dad doesn't mind,” Clay said. “We're going to need all the practice we can get if we're going to be able to do this wedding party.”

“Yeah, what he said,” I agreed, and Parker went back out into the music room. He banged and clanged around as he started putting away the equipment.

“Maybe we should have lunch or something sometime to talk this over. I'd love to meet your brother and his fiancé to get a feel for what kind of music they like,” Clay said.

“We’ll see about that. I don’t know how free they’re going to be,” I said. My throat had gone so dry that it hurt to swallow like I'd ingested a wad of paper and it got stuck in my throat.

“Okay, well, no pressure. I guess I'll see you Tuesday, if not sooner. Gimme a call if anything comes up,” Clay said.

“Will do. See ya,” I said and left Clay's office as fast as my legs would carry me, my knees knocking the entire time. I felt like I'd reverted to a scared young teenager myself, intimidated by someone who showed some interest in me.

“You ready?” I asked Parker. He'd just finished putting all the drum equipment back inside the closet and closed the door.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, sighing. We walked out together, and I waved over my shoulder at Clay, who was leaning against the doorframe to his office.

“You've got a crush on him, don’t you?” Parker asked, and I froze in my tracks.

"What? No. Why would you ask me that?"

"Oh, come on, Dad, it's all over your face. I've never seen you as red as you were when I came in the office," Parker said. So much for keeping it from him.

"So? That don't mean anything. Now come on, I've gotta get back to the bar," I said and set off down the hall again. The faster I got away from Clay, the sooner I could rest easy because there wouldn't be any more risk of me saying or doing something stupid.

What if I did have a crush on Clay? What did that make me?

And what if I decided I wanted to act on it?