Chapter 3

The guys and I did some rehearsing over the next few days. We weren’t working twelve-hour days in the studio, but we were going over a few tracks and tweaking them. All of us had our minds on others things. With the guys, it was their significant others; for me it was Grandpa. We had an appointment today and I didn’t want to be late. I pulled up to my house and dismounted my bike. Stan’s car was parked off to the side and I walked up to the door. I could hear someone playing guitar in the front room. I knew Stan was here, I’d seen his car. So who else was here playing guitar?

I opened the door quietly and stepped inside. I peered around the wall that separated my mudroom from the living room and had to hold back a gasp. Stan was sitting on the couch and Grandpa was in the recliner. Stan was playing the guitar and right then I realized what the song was. ‘Half-Life’ by Duncan Sheik, and Stan was rocking the shit out of it. I’d had no idea he could play or sing. I stood there, mesmerized by his voice. His eyes were closed, bangs hanging down in front of them. He looked so comfortable playing. I waited for him to finish before making my presence known by clapping. Stan jumped to his feet and a blush colored his cheeks.

“Oh! Um, sorry, here’s your guitar.” He thrust it toward me.

“I didn’t realize you could play.” I didn’t reach for the guitar; instead I nodded to the couch. “Can you play something else?”

“I really should get going.” Stan babbled. “Grandpa didn’t believe me when I said I could play. He’s the one who got your guitar. I know I should have asked —”

“Stan, relax.” I lifted my hand and Stan flinched. My brows furrowed and he looked like he wanted to run. “Whoa.”

“I have to go.” Stan thrust the guitar into my hand and hurried past me. The front door closed behind him and I glanced back to see Grandpa shaking his head. “What?” I asked.

“Something happened to that boy.”

“What makes you say that?” Grandpa arched his brows at me and I sat down. “He flinched when I raised my hand,” I mused.

“That boy’s been hurt.”

My brows knitted as I thought about how sweet Stan was. How could anyone hurt the guy?

“You like him.” Grandpa crossed his arms in the chair.

“He’s a nice guy, Gramps.” I threaded my fingers through my unruly hair. “You know I can’t —”

“Bullshit. You can and that boy is the one for you.”

“Okay, come on. I have to take you to the doc.”

“Stop changing the subject! You can have love in your life!”

“Grandpa, calm down. I’m not cut out for love.”

Grandpa stood and took me by my shoulders. “Not everyone is going to leave you, Rebel. Your mom had problems, and my Clemmy got sick. I’m still here and you need to find someone to fill that hole in your heart.”

At the mention of my grandmother, I hugged him. Clementine Stryker was one of a kind — she didn’t take shit from anyone, especially not my grandpa.

“I don’t want to leave this Earth with you still being alone. Got it? Not all of us get to decide how we’re going to die, but we can decide how we’re going to live. Live, Rebel! Really live.”

“Grandpa, come on.” I took his hand. “Want to go on the bike or in your car?”

“The bike. I feel old in that car.”

“Because it’s an old car.” I chuckled.

“It’s a ʼ63. I could make a fortune off of it.”

I got Grandpa settled on the back of the bike and fired it up. As we drove toward the hospital, we passed the house we lived in when I was growing up. I made sure that when I bought a new home, I took all of Grandpa’s stuff with us. I was told that Alzheimer’s patients needed familiarity in their environment. Thankfully, Grandpa wasn’t as advanced as some of the other patients I’d met.

We got to the clinic and I helped Grandpa off. We entered the building and I checked us in. Grandpa wandered around the waiting room, flipping through magazines and stopping to eye the art on the walls. When they called his name, I took him by his elbow and ushered him into the office. The doctor shook my hand and eyed Grandpa.

“Augustus, how have things been?” he asked.

“Well, I think things are pretty good, but you know me, I can’t remember.” Grandpa waggled his brows.

“Very funny, Augustus.” The doctor sat down and regarded us both. “I asked you to remember three words last time you were here, Augustus. Can you tell me what they were?”

I leaned against the wall as the doctor ran Grandpa through a bunch of tests. It’d only been a little over a year since I started noticing weird things with him. He’d look for my grandmother, or he’d forget to put pants on. I hated the fact that my job took me away from him, but that money made sure I could take care of him, and now Stan was helping out. I smiled at the thought of Stan. He was there all the time, making sure Grandpa was never alone.

“Mr. Stryker?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and regarded the doctor. “Yes?”

“The nurse is going to take your grandfather for some more testing. Can we have a seat?”

“Sure.” I kissed Grandpa’s head. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

As soon as the door closed, my eyes lifted to the doctor in front of me. He was clasping his hands together and regarding me seriously.

“Just tell me,” I said.

“He remembered the three words, but it took some time. Can you tell me about anything else that’s happened with him since your last visit?”

“Well, he forgets to put clothes on.”

“That may just be your grandpa,” the doctor chuckled.

“True.” I nodded with a grin.

“Let’s re-visit this in a few months. I’ve got him a new medication so watch him for side effects.”

The doctor gave me the pamphlet and I thumbed through it. I waited for my grandfather in the waiting room, watching other patients strolling in and out. One of them was walking from window to window, pacing back and forth. The young woman who was with her seemed weary. I gave her a smile and stood as Grandpa walked out.

“So? How did it go?” I asked him.

“Same ol’. Took some blood, made me pee in a cup.”

I shot a look at the woman across from us and she smiled. I took Grandpa by the bicep and led him out of the clinic. Once I got him on the bike and seated, I straddled it and fired her up. We drove along the windy mountain roads as we always did. Grandpa liked to get fresh air after his appointments and I just loved riding. By the time we got home, it was dinnertime. I cooked and we both sat in front of the TV watching Family Feud, Grandpa’s favorite show.

“Penis!” he shouted.

“Grandpa.” I laughed. “That’s not even remotely close to anything the answer could be.”

“I like shouting penis.” Grandpa shrugged. “Sue me.”

 

Once I got him medicated and tucked in, I strolled out back to look at the sky. It was clear and I inhaled deeply. I loved it here; I always would. My phone beeped and I saw a text from Ransom reminding me we had to go over one more track tomorrow before we all relaxed for a couple weeks. I sighed and closed my eyes, just thinking about what I was going to do when Grandpa started getting worse. He’d always told me to put him in a home when he got that bad, but I just couldn’t. I could deal with it all. I owed him that. I showered and fell into bed. I would deal with shit as it came my way.

Just like I always did.

Gareth was playing around on his guitar as I got to Ransom’s. Jinx’s boyfriend, Jayden, was sprawled out in Ransom’s huge beanbag chair and Axel and Achilles were in the corner looking over some files. Harley hip-bumped me as I grabbed my bass guitar.

“Hey, you. How’s Grandpa?”

“Doing pretty good. I dropped him at the nursing home. You know how he loves to flirt with the ladies over there.”

“He said he’s got a couple ladies.” Ransom grinned.

“Well he is a Stryker.” I waggled my brows.

We practiced for a bit before going over some of the tracks. I wasn’t ready for another tour any time soon, which is why I was glad we were taking our time with the album. Once we were done, I strolled out into the kitchen to see Sal leaning over the island.

“Hey, how are ya?” I asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Good! Just going over my lines. You off to get Grandpa?”

“Yes, and I’m running late as it is.”

“You tell him I said hey, will ya?”

“Sure.”

 

I entered the nursing home and threw a smile at the nurses at the front counter. I approached them, giving them a half-wave.

“Hello, ladies. I’m here to pick up Grandpa. Did he behave?” They both snorted and I laughed. “I’m sorry about his behavior.”

“He’s been better since Mr. Jackson arrived,” one of them informed me.

“Stan’s here?” I raised my brows.

“Well, yes. Was that okay? We did try to call you earlier.”

I pulled my phone from the inside pocket of my jacket and frowned. Somewhere along the way, the damn thing had died on me. I shook my head. I always made sure it was charged for this reason alone. I glanced up to see both nurses smiling at me.

“It died.” I held it up for them to see.

“No worries. As we said, Mr. Jackson is keeping the residents entertained.”

“Entertained?” I tilted my head to the side.

“Go down to the rec room. You’ll see.”

I nodded and headed down the hall. I could hear a piano and whistles. I cracked the door open and peered inside. There were four rows of chairs in front of a piano and Stan was behind it, stroking the keys as if they were a lover. I crept in, trying to stay out of sight as Stan began to sing. The song sounded familiar and I thought I remembered it from a TV show my grandpa loved. I knitted my brows in concentration, trying to place it. It came to me the instant Stan began to sing. It was ‘Belong,’ by the Cary Brothers.

I watched him in fascination. He played with his eyes closed, fingers brushing over the ivory expertly. He had fabulous range too. I couldn’t believe it. Our meek and mild manager had some serious talent. He sang with such…feeling, as though the lyrics meant something to him. My eyes widened as the song’s tempo sped up and Stan belted out the lyrics. Everyone in the room was riveted to the man behind the piano. Jesus, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was breathtaking.

My heart began to race as the song came to a close. I’d never been so moved by a song. Stan felt like he didn’t belong. He’d been hurt by someone who made him feel less than. My eyes wandered to Grandpa’s face. He was crying. Stan ended the song and everyone stood and applauded.

Stan bowed and sat back down.

“Okay, now I have something I think you’ll all like.”

Stan began to play again and goose bumps blew up all over my body. I knew Rachmaninoff’s ‘Rhapsody’ anywhere; the fact that he could play it so well astounded me. I couldn’t believe my ears. My grandmother loved classical music and I remembered hearing this song quite a bit. She encouraged me to learn all aspects of music and I remembered having certain affection for the one being played.

I was getting a whole new look at our blushing, stuttering manager. Stan finished and stood up to another standing ovation. I clapped as well and whistled as loudly as I could. Stan’s head whipped in my direction and I grinned, clapping louder. His face went crimson and he stepped out from behind the piano and bowed for the crowd.

“I promise next time I’ll sing you some Chuck Berry.” He laughed and bowed again.

“That was just wonderful!” One of the older ladies hugged him.

“Thank you ma’am” Stan kissed the top of her hand.

“Oh, my!” She blushed and ducked her head.

“Did you hear that, Rebel?” Grandpa asked me excitedly.

“I sure did.” I nodded.

“Our Stan is a virtuoso!” Grandpa beamed at Stan.

“Now, now, Grandpa. I can play a little.” Stan brushed away the compliment.

“A little?” I said. “Are you nuts? That was fantastic! Where did you learn to play like that?”

Stan seemed uncomfortable with all the praise so I backed off a bit. He was going to tell me where he learned to play though. I was getting a little annoyed with the way he brushed things off, as if he didn’t deserve the credit he was getting.

“Can we go eat?” Grandpa asked.

“Sure. Where do you want to go?” I asked.

“The diner. You coming, Stan?” Grandpa asked.

“Oh, I don’t —”

“Yes,” I blurted out. “Of course Stan is coming.”

“Good, I’ll ride with him.” Grandpa began walking.

Stan turned to me and pinned me with a look.

“What?” I feigned innocence.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to pelt me with questions?”

“Because I am?” I grinned broadly and began walking to my bike. I noticed Grandpa leaning against a car that wasn’t Stan’s. I shot him a grin and mounted my bike.

“Ugh!” Stan threw his hands up. “Grandpa, my car is on the other side.”

I chuckled.

 

The diner wasn’t too busy when we got there and we took a booth in the back so Grandpa could watch the little train go around the whole place while we ate. I don’t know why he loved it so much. We always had a train set that went around our Christmas tree every year too. It was the little things that made him happy and he raised me the same way. Money couldn’t buy you happiness, but it sure came in handy when you were broke. Stan was eyeing the menu as though it held the secret to life. I pulled it down and eyed him.

“What?” he glared at me. I arched a brow and he exhaled in frustration. “Fine. I was always into music as a kid and I learned how to play quite a few instruments.”

“You took lessons?”

Stan fidgeted. “Um, not really. We couldn’t afford them. Anything I learned was from the music teacher at school.”

“So he taught you to play piano?”

“No. I kind of learned that one on my own.”

“And guitar?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you?”

“Let’s not make a big deal out of this, okay? I like to play. I actually enjoy it.”

“Leave the boy alone, Rebel.” Grandpa placed his menu on the table. “I know what I want.”

“I’m just curious, Grandpa.”

“Yeah? Well I’m hungry,” he muttered.

He seemed agitated whereas just a few minutes before he’d been laughing. I took his hand and he glanced up at me.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m tired, Rebel.”

“We can get this to go?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Just need some food.”

We ordered when the waitress came and I leaned back against the booth, watching Stan. He seemed to sense my eyes on him and glanced up at me.

“What?” Stan narrowed his eyes.

“I just feel like you’re wasting your talent being the manager.”

“Look, I love to play — do I want to be famous? No. I play because it centers me, calms me, and I really just love to play for fun.”

“I just don’t want you to have any regrets,” I said sincerely.

“I don’t, really. I’m happy where I am. I feel like I have a purpose, and isn’t that all anybody really wants? To know that they’re doing something they love?”

Well, he had me there. I couldn’t deny that I felt whole doing what I was doing. We ate and Grandpa talked about the war again. I loved his stories and could listen to him all day. Stan seemed just as entranced as I was.

“So, that movie really does accurately depict the landing at Normandy?” Stan asked.

“Oh, yes.” Grandpa nodded. “I lost many men that day. We were sitting ducks on that beach. You either ran forward like a crazy man or died on the beach.”

I took Grandpa’s hand. He looked exhausted. I motioned the waitress over and smiled at Stan balking at me paying the bill.

“Next time you can get it.” I winked at him.

Stan blushed again and I grinned. I loved that I could make him blush at the smallest gesture. We separated in the parking lot and Stan assured me he’d be back in the morning to sit with Grandpa if I had anything I needed to do. I planned to sleep in and that was it.

I took Grandpa home and sat down on the edge of his bed as he slept. A picture of me, Grandpa and Grandma was on his bedside table and I picked it up, studying the three of us together. My grandmother was smiling and I was holding her hand. My grandfather was looking at her and not the camera. I ran my fingers across it and closed my eyes.

“I’ll take good care of him, Grandma. I promise,” I whispered.