Everyone echoed, “To Michelle!”
After eating his fair share of cake, Perry grabbed Tyler in a playful headlock. Not much had changed since she was a child— he was still the clown of the family, taking after their father. Now his kids had to put up with his shenanigans, as did his poor wife, of course.
“Birthday noogies!” Perry rubbed her head with his knuckles, but she twisted out of his grip and straightened her half-pulled topknot.
“Jesus, Perry. Grow up.”
“I’m six-four,” he joked.
“We’ve got company.” Tyler gestured to Cary and her brother made googly eyes. Staring at Perry, she drew a line across her neck with her finger as a warning.
Perry seemed to catch her drift and extended his hand. “Hope to see you back here, Cary. Thanks for playing our concert.”
“Pleasure’s mine,” he said, shaking his hand. “I hope to see you, too.”
You do?
Perry winked at the birthday girl. “We’re heading out, Ty-Ty. It’s way past the kids’ bedtime.” His smile faltered. “We sure do miss you.”
She dodged his gaze and mustered a tight-lipped smile.
Stewart whistled with two fingers. “Boys! Go hug your aunt. We’re leaving now.”
All four boys ran up to Tyler, nearly knocking her over, but she was happy to see their hockey conditioning was paying off. They were all tall enough to be defensemen.
“Bye, sweetie,” Perry’s wife said with a pout. She loved her sister-in-law more than life itself.
“I’ll be home at Christmas, Tamera. Take care of yourself.”
“I love you,” Stewart told his baby sister. “Be good now.”
A single tear hung from her lash line, meaning an ugly cry was coming. It never got easier saying goodbye to her family. The older she got, the harder it was to handle.
“I love you too.” Tyler raised her voice. “But get out of here!”
Just after midnight, Bert whistled, quieting the dressing room. “The auction’s officially sold out,” he announced. “Cary’s guitar went for twenty-five grand!” He crossed the room and shook Cary’s hand. “Thanks again, son,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word.
Tyler stepped forward. “It really does mean everything, Cary.”
He nodded, humbled by their gratitude. “Can I ask you a question, sir?”
“Shoot.” Bert stood up straight, fingers jammed into the front pockets of his jeans, thumbs hanging out. She couldn’t imagine what he was going to ask her dad. Hopefully nothing too personal.
“What was it like playing with the Humbler? Other than you, he’s my favorite guitar player.”
Bert gave him a heartfelt smile. “He was a sweet guy, soft-spoken. He let his guitar do the talking.”
“Did he ever,” Cary said. “His fingers were like butter.”
“I’m just glad I knew him.” Bert stared into the distance as if he were trying to remember something. “I’d be happy to show you a few of his tricks the next time you’re in town.”
“I’d love that.” Cary beamed.
I’ll show you a few tricks, Cary Kingston.
Vegas walked over and gently rested his hand on Cary’s shoulder. “Hey, man, we’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”
Cary sighed. “No rest for the wicked.”
