Avery
There was no way Mason was falling asleep when he came home. He sounded like one of those state fair auctioneers the way he rattled off everything that happened after I took Max home. I didn’t really know who Kevin Quill was when he said his name, but I played along to make him feel good. I could tell that he must be someone important.
I probably fell asleep hours before Mason, so I’m careful getting out of bed. I sneak into my room to grab my clothes from my drawer, and I notice Max’s eyes are wide open and looking almost at me.
“Good morning. I didn’t want to wake you. We have a session with Jenny, and then I’ll let you pick your favorite thing to do today,” I say—while inside, my mind is racing to get two steps ahead of wherever Max is going to take seeing me slip into the room, not out of it.
“There is a meteor shower tonight. I would like to set up Grandpa’s telescope,” he says, laying flat on his back and blinking at the ceiling.
“That sounds like a good idea,” I say, clinging to my clean shirt, and slowly sliding backward to the door.
“Can I sleep in Mason’s room sometime, too?” he asks, and my eyes grow wide. This is where Max is different—he’s caught me, completely, but he doesn’t really question the whys. All he cares about is figuring out how he can have the same privilege I do.
“You’ll have to ask Mason,” I say, swallowing hard, knowing that Max is going to ask. I’m going to have to prep Mason for this one.
“All right, I’ll ask him tonight, after he watches the meteors with me,” he says, sitting up quickly and moving his feet toward the floor. Max rubs his eyes as he stands and walks to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door, completely cutting me in line.
Max is slow in the bathroom. He gets distracted, and usually forgets his purpose. I know I have a good fifteen minutes of alone time, and I use it—sneaking back into Mason’s room and running my fingers along his arm to wake him just long enough to warn him about the barrage of expectations that will be waiting on him when he finally wakes up.
“Hey,” he says, his voice groggy, and his breath smelling of stale beer and smoke. I pull my cover to my nose, and he covers his mouth when he realizes. “Oh, sorry. Hang on, I’ll brush my teeth.”
I tug on his shirt and force him back in his bed. “You can’t. Max is in there right now,” I say, biting at my lip in anticipation of the next part. “He…he caught me.”
Mason’s eyes are fully open at that, and he turns his head quickly to me, mouthing, “Oh, shit!”
“I handled it…sort of,” I say, slipping out of his bed, out of his reach. “So, he’s going to ask to have a sleepover sometime. Like, oh, probably tonight. Yeah, uh…and good luck with that!”
I race through his door and slam it shut behind me, tossing my clean clothes to the corner of the hallway, and sprinting down the stairs. I only make it about halfway before his arm is hugging around my midsection and my feet are no longer on the floor. “You threw me under the bus!” he says at my neck, tingles shooting down my entire body from the tickle of his scruffy chin.
“I did no such thing,” I say, and he pulls me close again, lifting me, and backing me up the stairs and to his room.
“I call bullshit,” he says, a huge grin on his face. “You’re the one who’s going to end up suffering anyhow. What are you going to do when Max and I are in here having fun all night, and you’re stuck over there all by yourself?”
It’s hard to concentrate when he has me pinned to the door, his tongue working its way up the crook of my neck and his nose tickling the lobe of my ear. “I’ll just read. Maybe even two books,” I say, and in a way that thought sounds like a gift from heaven. “Besides, it’s lights out at eight o’clock. So, I’m not so sure who’s getting the short end.”
He starts to tickle at my sides and I giggle uncontrollably. “Oh, I’ll show you lights out,” he says, his fingers working their way up my sides and coming closer to the tips of my breasts, when I hear a loud knock on the other side of the door, and push his hands away quickly.
“It’s Max. Be nice!” I whisper, and Mason opens the door to my son, who’s now changed into a bright green outfit. He only likes certain kinds of shirts, and sometimes for him picking out an outfit that he finds comfortable requires a little flexibility in the matching category. His shorts are kelly green today, and the shirt is almost florescent. At least I won’t lose him at the store.
“Tonight is the meteor shower. Do you want to watch it with me through Grandpa’s telescope?” he asks, turning to look at the door handle while he speaks. This must be really important to Max, because usually we have to bribe him to ask people to interact with him. I kick at Mason’s foot so he understands how important this is.
“I’d love to, Max. What time does it start?” he asks, looking at me with a devilish grin. He’s found a loophole to my bedtime rule.
“The best time to start is nine thirty. Mom, I am going to have to sit up later,” Max says, not really asking.
“Okay,” I say. I let it go this time because I can’t believe how far he’s getting.
“Got it. Okay, I’ll be there,” Mason says, holding his breath that Max won’t push for the next part, and when Max starts to walk away, I think he might have just dodged it.
“I’ll bring my blanket and pillow over later to set up my bed,” Max says, no longer really engaged with us and now just assuming that the rest of his plan is already enacted. In a way, Max is the ultimate closer—he never even gets remotely close to hearing no.
All I can do is raise my eyebrows at Mason and shrug, and while I finish getting ready for the day in the shower, I start to feel bad. I also know Mason can’t handle Max completely on his own. There are too many nuances, and I wouldn’t send him into that unprepared. When I finally meet them both downstairs for breakfast, I lean over to Mason while Max is eating.
“I’m coming too. Looks like the spare room is going to be awfully full tonight,” I smile, and he visibly sighs with relief.
Mason
At first I wanted to take the meeting with Kevin alone—having Ben involved in any type of business discussion is usually non-productive. But playing together last night, the way the four of us were on stage—that felt more right than any other performance we’d ever had. I feel like something good is beginning, and I don’t want to fuck it up by being shady and doing things behind the guys’ backs, so I called them this morning to break the news and set the meeting with Kevin for this afternoon.
Ben’s legs are hopping up and down so much that the whole damn table is shaking, and I’m just waiting for Kevin to call the meeting off for fear that our drummer is a coke head. To be honest, I’m not so sure he isn’t.
“Let me get to the point, gentleman,” Kevin says, pulling the black-rimmed glasses from his face and folding them on the table in front of us. “Your sound is perfect for what we’re putting together right now. That whole rockabilly, folk-rock kind of thing is hot, and we’re scheduling some big tours. What I’d like to do is have you slated to open for most of the shows in the Southwest.”
I cough when I swallow my water because what he is saying is the last thing I expected. I thought maybe we’d get another deal like the last—tour some small venues, build a base and maybe record an album if we were lucky.
“We’re in,” Ben says, shaking Kevin’s hand before the rest of us really have time to process.
“Wait, I have a few questions,” I pipe in, and I can feel the guys staring at me, just wanting to punch me in the face for even having a hint of a reservation. “Sorry, but we’ve sorta been down a road before, and I want to know where this one is leading. When you say open for a few shows, what kind of numbers are you talking about?”
“Off the top of my head, probably about twenty or so—primarily Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Denver, Southern Cal, maybe a couple in Texas,” he says, pulling up his briefcase to the table to pull out a set of papers that look like contracts. “You’d be opening for some of our up-and-coming bands, venues that hold about twenty.”
“Twenty people?” Ben asks, and I want to kick him. Kevin just laughs it off.
“Twenty…thousand,” Kevin says.
“Fuuuuuuck me. Where do I sign,” Ben asks, perching himself up on his elbows like an anxious child.
“What about recording? Will there be any possibility of that?” I ask, not sure how much Kevin really believes in us.
“Absolutely. Let’s see how the shows go. They’ll run through the end of the year, and if the response is good, we’ll know by late November if we need to schedule some recording time.”
The guys are already reading over the various points of the contract, and my paper is sitting in front of me, my pen on top, just waiting for my signature. I know how big this break is. But something has my hand trapped, and I can’t seem to get myself to commit.
“Look, Mason. I understand your reservations. I know your story—I don’t come into deals like this without doing my homework. I’m going to be really honest, what I’m offering you is the best deal you’re going to get—and it might be the last,” he says, holding out his hand, just waiting for me to shake it.
My mind is racing a million miles a second, trying to line up every last piece of my life into a neat and tidy row. But it’s impossible. The only thing I know for sure is that my dream is hanging on by a thread, and Kevin is holding the other end, and that seems to be enough to get me to shake his hand tonight. I sign my name on that small black line, handing over my life, and then I wonder what the hell I’m going to tell Avery.
“Hells yeah, man!” Ben says, raising his half-empty glass of whiskey to the rest of us for a toast. “To second chances!”
“To second chances!” everyone cheers. I’m not sure which chance I’m referring to, though, and I’m not sure if I’m welcoming one or saying goodbye.
“Okay, you pussy-whipped son-of-a-bitch. No excuses, we’re going to celebrate this, and you’re coming with us right now. You better have dollars in that wallet of yours because we’re going to Spanks!
I roll my eyes, but I know I can’t really get out of this one, not if I want to survive the next two months on the road with Ben and the guys.
“Fine, but not all night okay?” I say, guzzling down the rest of my beer. I reach into my wallet to settle up the tab, but Kevin pushes my hands away.
“This one’s on me. I have a good feeling about you guys, and if I’m right, then buying you a beer is the least I can do,” he says, and I let out a big breath, taking in his compliment.
Spanks always goes the same. I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different. Beers turn to shots, and then the next thing I know every naked girl in the place is hanging around our table while Ben hands out everyone else’s money because the fucker never has his own.
“Mason, dude, come on. Just give me one more twenty. I swear this is the last. I need to have a little one-on-one sesh with MaryAnne. Come on, buddy,” Ben says, leaning heavy into my arm. I know if I moved too quickly he’d fall flat on his face, and I’m tempted. But it’s more tempting to give him the twenty so he’ll leave.
Matt and Ben are practically making out with two of the girls. There’s always been a loose ‘hands off’ rule at Spanks—that’s why we’ve always come here. It started when we were seventeen, and Ben found a guy to make us fake IDs. Usually, after a few hours of lap dances, I’ve picked out a girl and taken her to the bathroom for a little bonus, but everyone in here looks different to me tonight—it all seems sad and pathetic.
“How about you, baby? You want some of this?” one girl says, running her hands up her body and squeezing her tits together just to jiggle them in front of my face. I’m pretty fuckin’ buzzed, but I haven’t drank enough to make me want that. All I want is Avery.
“No thanks…but I tell ya what. I’ll give you this twenty, and how about you make that guy’s day over there and hang out with him and your friend,” I say, tucking my last bill in the side string of her panties and pointing over to Ben and…what was her name? MaryAnne?
The girl pulls the twenty from her hip and stashes it in a small pouch tied to her wrist, then she rolls her body against mine just once before she leaves, just to show me what I’m missing. I can feel my pants get a little tighter on instinct, but my head is still on straight, despite how drunk I truly am, and I keep my hands to myself and watch her walk away.
I have half a beer left, and I finish that off along with one last shot and then I find Matt to let him know I’m leaving. “I got things, man. But hey, let’s hook up tomorrow, okay? You keep an eye on that one, make sure he doesn’t land his ass in jail,” I say, throwing my head backward to where Ben is now in heaven with two strippers at once.
When I stumble from Spanks, I’m struck by how cold it is outside. When we came to the bar, it was maybe five or so in the afternoon. Still in only a T-shirt and my jeans, I beep open the back of my car and look for a jacket. I find a nasty old gray sweatshirt, so I put that on just to stay warm and then walk over to the edge of the parking lot to pick up a cab. That’s always been my line—I don’t drive drunk, and neither do any of the guys. I drove us here, so someone will give me a lift back to my car tomorrow.
“Hey, I need to get to…” I pause for a second, suddenly not able to remember Avery’s address. “Ah hell man, you know where Dusty’s is in Cave Creek? Get me there and then I’ll walk you through the rest.”
The driver just nods at me, and I settle back into the corner of the cab, my head resting against the window. The closer we get to Cave Creek, the less lights there are along the road until finally the sky is pitch black. I don’t know what made me look up, or why I even decided to sit like this for the ride home, but in that very second I see a white light streak across the sky and my heart falls into my feet.
Max!
I pull my phone from my pocket, and when I realize it’s 10:45, I go into a full-on panic attack. “I’m sorry, I just realized I’m late for something. Can you drive a little faster? I swear man, I’ll pay for your ticket,” I clutch the seat in front of me, half considering diving from the car and just sprinting the rest of the way home.
I feel the car move a little faster, but it’s never fast enough. The driver gets me to Dusty’s, and I still see Ray’s truck in the lot, which for some reason makes me feel a little better. At least he doesn’t know what a huge, fucking asshole I am. I give the driver directions for the last few blocks and hand him my credit card the second he pulls up in front of Avery’s house. I’m waiting at his window for him to hand it back to me, and when he does I literally bolt inside.
The house is dark—completely dark. I try to control my breathing so I can listen to see if I hear anyone, but there’s nothing. I race up the stairs, slipping on the middle few and banging my shin hard against the steps, gashing open the front of my leg. “Shit!” I say.
I push open my door and fling on the light, but no one is there. The bed is empty, and Max’s pillow and sheets are gone. For some reason, this makes me worry even more, so I race to the other end of the hall and stop at his and Avery’s door, holding my hand to my forehead and closing my lips tightly, trying not to make any noise even though I’m panting and my stomach is churning with the want to throw up. I don’t hear anything, but I’m not sure that I would. I turn the handle on his door slowly and push it open gently, careful not to let it squeal, and when I see his body laying stiff in his bed, arms straight out next to him and his eyes shut tightly, I collapse to my knees. He’s sleeping—and I watch him for a good two minutes to make sure he’s really sleeping, not just pretend sleeping.
I manage to get the door closed, and I slowly walk back to the steps. My body is drenched in sweat now, so I pull the sweatshirt over my head and throw it at my door before climbing back down the stairs to the kitchen. The lights are all off downstairs, but I can see a hint of light coming from the back yard, so I take a deep breath and push the back door open, following the sound of sweeping.
Avery’s back is to me, and she’s sweeping thousands of tiny pieces of glass into a pile in front of the trashcan. I can hear her sniffle every few seconds, and it breaks my fucking heart. I can’t believe I did this—I can’t believe I forgot, that I missed something so important.
“Let me get it,” I say, grabbing the end of the broom. She lets it go from her hands instantly, and her body just goes still. I don’t know what to say, so I just start sweeping.
Ray’s telescope is lying on its side, and I can tell from the crystals I’m piling up that his lens is what broke. That’s the first thing I’m buying with any money I make from the tour, a new one of these. I’ll just get the best one I can.
Avery walks over to the small patio table to get the dustpan, and then comes over to my pile to start scooping it into the trash. I bend down with her and grab her wrist when she does, hoping like hell she doesn’t jerk away. Instead, she starts crying.
“I totally blew it. I’m so sorry. I was out with the guys, we signed a deal, and…fuck, there’s no excuse. I’m so sorry Avery,” I say, the words coming out sloppily, though seeing all of this has me sobering up some.
“I know,” she whispers, standing back to her feet and sliding away from me a little. Her movement rips right through me, and I hate that she’s running away from me.
“Honest to God, Avery. I had no idea how late it was, and I completely forgot,” I keep saying words, like somehow one of these times I’m going to say something that’s going to make it better.
“He was pretty good at first. We were just going to watch the meteor shower without you. I told him you were stuck in traffic. But then he found this,” she says, holding out a folded piece of yellow notebook paper. I unravel it, and walk closer to the porch light so I can read what it says.
Dear Max,
I am sorry that I was not a better father to you. What you have isn’t something I can fix or make better, so I left. I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I just don’t know how to be your dad.
When you are older, please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I owe you that.
Sincerely,
Your father,
Adam
That fucking douchebag! I threaten him, and I swear I plan on following through with that threat, regardless if it lands my ass in prison, and this is the letter he writes? I’m pacing now I’m so mad, and I’m about to unleash one hell of a rant when Avery’s soft voice absolutely wrecks me.
“I’d let you read the one he wrote to me, but I burned it. He said you made him send the letters, and that’s the only reason he did. What the hell were you thinking, Mason?” she says through the downpour of tears that are streaming from her eyes.
“Avery, this is not what I meant,” I say, reaching for her. She shirks away from me though, and it feels worse than being slapped.
“God, don’t even, Mason! You smell like a fucking casino!” she yells, pulling her sweater across her body tightly. “Max can read. Not well, but he can read. I didn’t see his letter tucked inside mine, and when it fell out from the envelope, he found it. Here’s the thing though—Max doesn’t know how to understand that letter. He’s black and white. And that letter? It’s gray. It’s all kinds of gray! He asked me who Adam was, and then he argued with me, saying over and over that his dad is dead. I didn’t know what to say, so I just tried to get him to come back outside. But then it was getting late, and he didn’t see any shooting stars, so he threw the telescope to the ground, screaming that I made him miss the meteor shower.”
She sits down and holds her face in her hands, her body shaking with each sob. I stand there and look at her—at this mess I made. “Avery, I was only trying to help,” I say, pleading.
“He screamed for an hour and fifteen minutes, Mason. The neighbors called the cops. I know the guy who showed up, and that’s the only reason it didn’t get worse. He walked to the backyard and saw me, holding him…fucking rocking back and forth and waiting for it to stop. You can’t just do things like that, Mason. You have to live up to Max’s expectations. Forget about mine,” she says, standing to her feet and brushing by me. “Can you just finish cleaning this up? I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
She doesn’t turn back around to look at me again, and I’m glad, because I think if I saw the disappointment on her face it would kill me. I spend the next hour cleaning every last piece of glass from the patio and fixing what I can on the telescope. By the time Ray gets home, I’ve completely survived being drunk, and have gone straight to hungover.
I fill him in over an entire pot of coffee, and he does his best to console me, but I can tell I’ve let him down, too. By the time I shower and lay in my bed, it’s four in the morning. My eyes are fighting to stay awake, but I’m losing the battle, and quickly. The only thing left running in my mind is my biggest fear—that I might not be the kind of man who can do this either. That maybe I’m just as weak as Adam Price.
And maybe Avery deserves something better.