Neglected? My father? By my grandparents, affectionately known as JimSuey? They’d never been solid fixtures in our lives, but they did come around every so often… when it was convenient for them. But they didn’t seem like bad people. I mean, they wore knee socks, for god’s sake.
“JimSuey were shitty parents?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
Dad’s posture stiffened, the muscle in his arm rigid. “I misspoke. They were fine. The point I was making was…”
“Wait. No. No. Go back. Did something happen with JimSuey? Do you not get along with them? Am I the only one who doesn’t know this?”
“Quinn, leave it alone.”
“No. I want to know.”
Dad fidgeted from one foot to another. He was nervous. Why?
“Look, they never cared about me, all right? I was just living in their house until I was old enough to… not be there.”
“Did they treat Uncle Paul that way too?”
“That was different.”
“Why was it different?”
Dad looked away, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Had I just stumbled onto something big?
My father—the most open book I’d ever read—had a secret.
* * *
It had to be the single strangest conversation I’d ever had with my father, but it did make me think. Where did I want to be in thirty years? Because I now understood it wouldn’t be on Jake’s throne. He had that gig solidly wrapped up. But did I really need his level of success to be relevant in the music world? Could I be happy as a minor playerandhave my parents deem me worthy?
I unlocked my apartment door and let myself in. My parents’ house, with all its earthly comforts, was feeding my complacency. It was time to leave. Some hard decisions needed to be made, and I couldn’t do that on a pool floatie. Hell, by the state of things, I might already be too late. The parking lot had been buzzing when Kyle picked me up here three days ago, but look at it now. The photographers were gone; the reporters had moved on to fresher news, and I was quickly sliding back into obscurity—with a blue check next to my name.
Jess. I needed her now. She’d know the correct path for me to take. I grabbed the near-empty Grey Goose bottle and prepared a glass. Might as well drinktomy girl since I couldn’t drinkwithher.
There was a knock at the door. Holy shit! Had she read my mind? I shot up from the chair and jogged over, so proud of her for realizing my error and coming to rescue me. I swung the door open, unprepared for what greeted me on the other side: my brothers Jake and Kyle.
“Oh, hey,” I said, fighting off my frustration. I might possibly be the only human on earth disappointed to find Jake McKallister standing on the other side of my door. “What are you doing here?”
“I got paged. Something about a cleanup on aisle Quinn.”
“Ha,” I said. “Funny. But true.”
We exchanged a knowing laugh and I could tell I’d been forgiven without even uttering an apology. That was often how it went down.
“I’m actuallyalsoin the hallway.” Kyle declared himself with a wave.
“Yes, I see you,” I replied. “You wanna come in?”
“Uh…yeah.” Kyle held up a bag. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Taco Bell, of course,” Jake announced the obvious. Not only could I see the overflowing bag of munchies in his hand, but Kyle was rarely spotted without.
Kyle knocked into Jake on his way in. “Don’t be hating on my bean burritos, dude.”
“Then don’t be rippin’ ass in my car once they’ve made their way through your digestive tract.”
Shutting the door behind my brothers, I waited as they bickered about the potency of Kyle’s Taco Bell exhaust.
“So…,” I interrupted. “What brings you here?”
