And everything in the world was right again. As right as it could be when your band was falling apart.
Forty minutes later, they were all sitting around the formal dining room table. This table full of people—Tommy, Angel, Jessi, Jimmy and Audra, Damien and Alyssa, Kira and Brett, the kids, and Aunt Mary—were the Immortal Angel Family. The lucky 13. They spent almost all of their time together and shared boisterous laughter, good times, and crazy stories. And Tommy loved them all.
He looked at Angel, sitting at the head of the table like a king on his throne presiding over his royals. Royals referred to the masterful dishes he prepared, not his guests. Next, Tommy looked at Jessi. She helped Angel bring each dish to the table while he announced them by name, as if everyone didn’t recognize Angel’s classic Cuban cuisine by now. Occasionally, he threw in a surprise that they’d never eaten before, but mostly it was an assortment of old favorites. Everyone, including the kids, had to ooh and aah over them, but it really wasn’t an exaggeration.
The nonstop chatter had a soothing effect on Tommy and on everyone else. It brought normalcy to the group during a very turbulent time. Except Damien was unusually quiet. The guy was never big on words to begin with and wore a perpetual resting bitch face, but given the circumstances, Tommy had to wonder. “Did you catch that documentary on Flea yet?” Tommy asked, in an attempt to stir up conversation.
“Yeah.” Damien didn’t bother to look up from his plate.
“That guy’s something else.”
Another nod, but that was it.
Tommy tried again. “Do you remember when we saw the Foo Fighters in Berlin at Olympiastadion?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think Dave Grohl had any idea that he’d be so successful after Nirvana . . .” The words “broke up” hung on Tommy’s tongue, but he didn’t say them. And by the way Damien’s jaw set, he didn’t need to.
Damien lifted his gaze from his plate and stared at Tommy while he continued to chew. He swallowed and narrowed his eyes. After several seconds, he finally said, “No.” Then he turned his attention back to his plate.
Tommy felt the sharpness of Damien’s one-word answers. He glanced around the table to see if anyone else noticed the cold replies, but everyone was engaged in lively conversation, talking back and forth. His eyes landed on Alyssa, who was the only one who witnessed the short conversation with Damien, if you could call it a conversation. The look on her face was a mixture of regret and understanding, but Tommy wasn’t sure if she sympathized with the way Tommy felt or with Damien’s attitude. Unsure how to proceed, Tommy stared blankly at his friend, who ignored him and ate quietly.
Tommy hated the tension and finally asked, “Is something wrong?”
Damien dropped his fork on the plate with a loud clang and gave Tommy a death stare. The noise wasn’t very loud in comparison to the voices around the table, but it got everyone’s attention. The room suddenly quieted, and all eyes were focused on the two of them. Silence, a rare thing in this room filled with loud, vivacious people, echoed with uneasiness.
“Yeah. Something is very wrong,” Damien said. “And you know exactly what it is. I want my band back together. I want Immortal Angel on stage. But that’s not gonna happen until my guitar player gets his head out of his ass and wakes up and realize what he’s giving up. What he’s throwing away. Aren’t you over it by now?”
Heat infiltrated Tommy’s cheeks as if someone just turned on the oven, and his grip on his utensil turned into a fist. An urge to stab Damien with the fork passed through him, but only for a brief second. “Overwhat?”
“Over this charade. Haven’t you moved passed it all ready and realized the stage is where you belong?”
“It isn’t a charade. It’s not a decision I made lightly. I thought you understood.”
“I’ll never understand. I’m trying. But I don’t get it.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend.” Tommy felt his temper flare. “One of my best friends.”
“And you’re supposed to be mine,” Damien replied, cutting Tommy off and sitting taller in his chair.
“I am. Why can’t you just support me? That’s what friends do.”
“Because you’re being selfish.”
“Are we going through this again?” Tommy huffed out a breath, tired of the conversation that he knew would only turn into an argument. “My mind hasn’t changed. My feelings haven’t changed. Just accept it all ready.”
“I can’t. You’re destroying a big part of my life, and I don’t like it. As a matter fact, I hate it.”
Alyssa placed her hand on Damien’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “Damien . . . you promised you’d be nice.”
The tone of his voice and his demeanor immediately softened. “I am nice. I gave the kids piggy-back rides. Including Mason.” Damien leaned over so he could catch Mason’s eye at the other end of the table, a tiny smile now tucked into the corner of his mouth. “And he’s getting so big he could probably give me one.”
A long exhale left Damien’s lungs, and he relaxed in his chair before addressing Tommy. “Look. I’m not trying to be a jerk. You know me. I don’t hold back. I got something to say, and I say it.” He pointed his finger at Tommy. “You asked. I didn’t offer.”
Tommy stared back at his friend, flabbergasted into silence, and waited for Damien to continue.
“I didn’t mean to come off so angry. It’s just my way. I meant what I said.” That tiny smile reappeared. “But I guess I could’ve said it a little nicer.” Damien threw his hands up. “That’s all I got. So, let’s move on to the next topic, because my food is getting cold, and I don’t want Angel to blow a gasket that I’m missing out on peak flavors.” Then he picked up his fork and resumed eating as if the explosive exchange never took place.
