Such were the sacrifices required of town mayors and their boyfriends—which was what Rafe and I had somehow become.
When Big Rafe had announced a couple of days after the Extravaganza last year that he and Gloria were going to sail over to Cozumel in the winter so he could spend time searching for the sunken treasures he’d spent half his life daydreaming about, I’d sort of thought he was kidding. Whispering Key without Big Rafe didn’t seem like a thing that should be possible.
As it turned out, he’d been dead serious.
“I’m abdicating the mayor’s seat to you, son,” he’d told Rafe. “Rule in good health and do me proud.”
Gage had made a mildly outraged noise. “Dad, you do realize Whispering Key isn’t actually a monarchy, right? You can’t pass the title down to Rafe. If he wants it, he’s gonna have to declare his candidacy and run? And the island will vote? And they might choose someone else? Because… democracy?”
“Thank you, Gage,” Big Rafe had snorted. “I know how it works. I also know there’s not a soul on this island who doesn’t believe Young Rafe’s the best man for the job,ergo, he’s a shoo-in. The island’s in his blood, for one thing. And for another, I’ve been training him for this role for years, much the way Mr. Miyagi trained Daniel in those movies back in the day.” His chest had puffed out proudly. “And it worked.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Rafe had choked out. “So you’re saying me handling the Extravaganza… and working all those hours on the boat…”
“Wax on, wax off, Rafael,” he’d said solemnly.
I had tried very hard not to laugh at the absolute horror on my true love’s face, because I was a good boyfriend like that.
But Big Rafe had smiled angelically and patted him on the shoulder. “I figure if you can deal withme, you can deal with anything the mayor’s crown might have in store for you.”
In the end, Big Rafe had been right—which was an annoying tendency he had. Even Rafe’s sole opponent, Harvey Culpepper, had only declared his candidacy because Lorenna McKetcham convinced him it’d be wrong to deprive the town of an election, but he’d ended up voting for Rafe, too.
And over the past eight months, Rafe had proven himself to be an even better mayor than his dad, because no one was as competent as my man and no one cared about the people on this island half as much. Nothing I’d personally accomplished had made me prouder than watching him settle into his new role and getting to be a part of it myself. Rafe had lived on the island his whole life, but now he’d finally accepted his place on it.
And so had I.
This life—my life with Rafe—didn’t look at all like the future I’d planned for myself as a teenager. My last album had been released in March, but I’d shocked the heckity out of Debbie by not touring to support it. Instead, I’d played a select number of festivals all spring and summer, along with limited dates at smaller venues in cities Rafe and I wanted to explore, making sure that my schedule lined up with Rafe’s as much as possible.
I’d also built a recording studio in the backyard, just like Rafe had suggested. It had cost a small fortune, buttheAri Friedrich himself had said that the view outside was worth every penny, which was why he’d stayed on the Key for a wholemonthlast spring so he and I could collaborate on a couple of tracks… and so he and his new BFF, Rafe Goodman, could devise—I kid you not—the ultimate turkey burger recipe.
I’d realized, watching the two of them joke around while drinking margaritas with Toby and Gloria, that while having money and career accolades was wonderful, they’d only ever been a means to an end, and the end I’d always wanted was precisely what I’d found on the Key—friendship, and collaboration, and having a purpose, and watching my lover eat hamburgers with his idol. It was a scary thing to admit that you were happy, to push back against society’s drive formore. But it was worth it.
So anytime I was tagged in a post about how I’d lost my drive to succeed because I’d gone from playing big shows to smaller venues, I thought about nights like tonight, moments when I held my tiny audience in the palm of my hand and felt the music connecting us, and I thought, “Nope.This right here is success.”
And every time BlazeNewz speculated on “Jayd Rollins: Where is he now?” I posted a picture on my Instagram of me, sun-kissed and bone-deep happy, on a beach or a boat or cuddled up in bed with a sleeping Rafe, because I knew exactly where I was and what I really wanted, and that made all the difference.
“If you don’t come down, I’m coming up!” Aimee threatened, levering her pregnant self out of her chair.
I obediently jumped down from the little stage Bobo had constructed on a corner of the patio last winter, when “Hey, Jayd, could you play a few songs at open mic night?” had become regular shows that drew tons of tourists all year long, and wrapped my arms tight around Aimee’s tiny form.
“Your niece is kicking,” she told me, beaming as she set my hand on her belly. “I think she likes hearing her Uncle Jay sing. Think our family could handle two musicians?”
My chest squeezed tight. “I think our family can handle anything.”
“Yoo-hoo! Jayd! Jayd Rollins! “
Aimee and I turned to find Lorenna McKetcham bearing down on us. She wrapped an arm around Aimee from the other side.
“Hey, Ms. McKetcham. How’s mahjong night going?” Aimee asked.
“Excellent! I’m winning, and Victoria Archbold is crying into her jalapeño poppers.” She turned to me. “But we got to talking about our other hobbies, and I was wondering… how’s that nice friend of yours doing?”
“Er. You mean Chet? He and Chrissea are doing just fine, last I heard. He’s recording his first studio album.” An album for which I’d contributed not one but two original songs. “They’ll both be back for the Extravaganza next weekend.”
“Chet’s a hoot, but I don’t mean him. I mean the beefcake who visited you over the Fourth of July. The one with the neck tattoo who’s built like Beale Goodman’s naughty twin brother.” Her smile was broad enough to show off all her dentures.
I choked on my saliva. “I guess you mean Oak.”
“Ahhh, that’s right.Oak.” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “It’s like his mama justknewhe’d be hard and woody. Is he taken?”
