“I know, sorry.” He hated being unhelpful, but sometimes one had no choice.
Conway checked her phone, then let out a groan of frustration.
“Hey, we’re cool, right?” Scott said, hoping the answer was yes. He had a soft spot for Conway, who he remembered as a sweet and shy kid with impressive talents for air hockey and portraiture.
“We’re fine, I’m just pissed at my family. I literally never know what’s going on.”
“Right.”
“And it’s always something!”
“So Carver’s just back home with them? Just the three of them?”
Conway nodded.
“Okay,” Scott said. “And Chip had straight-up zero idea what they fought about?”
“Yeah, that’s why I just askedyou,” she said, squinting at him.
“Right, right.” He was jittery and stupid. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Scott went back to his table and tried to not worry about what was going on down the road at Doug and Nora’s, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he would only make things worse by showing up, but felt the need to anyway. He wasn’t trying to rescue Carver, he just wanted to own his role in this conflict. He was the person everyone should be angry at — he was the wasp in the cake.
Plus, he’d left one of his guitars in the pool house along with most of his luggage. And his broken-down van was still parked in the garage. All these objects felt like hostages he would soon have to negotiate the release of.
He turned in his chair to get away from a dumb conversation two of his high school friends were having about Taylor Swift and called Carver on the phone. It rang and rang and went to voicemail. He tried him a second time, then texted him,Hey hope everything is okay.
Carver did not text back, and Scott suffered through another half-hour with no information. He was approached by the photographer’s second shooter, an attractive and heavily tattooed chick named Jia, who (to his relief) turned out to be normal but who unfortunately wanted to talk about his music in a way he couldn’t contend with right now. He finally begged off by following her back on Instagram and telling her in the most platonic tone possible that she could DM him further questions, then decided it was time to leave this wedding. He’d played a very solid set, congratulated the brides and said hi to everyone he knew — his conduct was unimpeachable, he deserved an honorable discharge.
He called an Uber and spent the whole ride distracted, responding to the driver’s non-stop conversation on autopilot with “Yeah, yeah,” and “So true, man.” This seemed to only frustrate the guy, who Scott eventually realized was trying to sell him a subscription to some kind of vitamin regimen.
The Novack home was dark and quiet when Scott arrived, but one light was on in the living room. He knocked first instead of ringing the doorbell; after a moment the living room curtain swished like someone had peeked at him. In another moment the front door was being yanked open to reveal Nora. She didn’t look pleased to see him, and folded her arms across her chest.
“Hi,” Scott said gamely. This wasn’t the first unhappy mom he’d ever dealt with.
“Hi,” Nora said. “I’m guessing you came for your things? They’re here in the hallway.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll call a tow truck for your van in a moment.”
“Okay. Listen —”
“What were youthinking?In our house?”
“Mrs. Novack, I’m truly sorry for that. You were generous enough to bring me into your home like family and I disrespected you as a host. I get it.”
“You must think I’m stupid,” Nora said. Scott had never heard her talk like this, and he was surprised to realize that she looked as if she’d been crying. “You must think this is funny.”
“This isn’t funny at all,” Scott said, with total sincerity.
“In my pool house.”
“I’m truly so sorry.”
“I love that pool house. You defiled my pool house. You defiled my child in my pool house.”
