“Gee-ma, I kind of love it,” I told him. I could see relief wash over him. Was he really worried?
“Alright, well, let’s see your set up,” he cleared his throat and motioned for us to head to the rehearsal space. The rest of the band showed up only a few minutes later, meeting us inside the room.
My dad wandered around the room examining everything. He was using a trained eye, looking at things from a lens of a musician who has been playing for over thirty years. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath, waiting for his opinion on our set up until my body panicked and I had to gasp in air. He looked over at me with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re making us nervous. Is there something wrong with our stuff?” Dallas asked from the guitar wall. He never had an issue speaking his mind with our dad. Which, considering what he told me about their relationship, made a lot of sense. The entire band watched my dad intently until he nodded.
“It looks good. I’m impressed you were able to soundproof it as good as you did in this space. It’s a big room.”
“It took a lot of work,” I said proudly. “But totally worth it.”
“That’s why she doesn’t want to give this place up,” Tate laughed. He came over to me and put his arm around me.
“What do you mean? Are you guys looking at places?” My dad asked us. Instantly my gaze went to my bandmates to see their reactions. Ronny looked sad, Cash indifferent, and Dallas, he looked like he was seeing an opportunity.
“Kind of, casually, maybe. We’ve got his apartment and the bookstore. Plus, this place isn’t great to raise a family,” I explained.
“Like a family family? Like… more?” My dad’s blue eyes went wide with an eager happiness that made me uneasy. I shook my head vehemently at the same time Tate was answering him.
“Someday,” he said.
“No, God no,” I said.
Awkward silence was thrust into the room. Tate and I turned to each other. His eyes reflected confusion and hurt feelings. Guilt filled mine. I glanced over at Ronny, who was hyper-focused on the bass guitar hanging across his chest. This wasn’t the way I wanted to tell him about our future plans. My stomach lurched.
“A lot of things are being said but nothing is planned officially yet,” I said lamely, although it felt like a lie. We’d been doing a lot more than just talking about it.
“Okay, maybe we should play for your dad?” Cash interrupted. I thanked him silently and he tipped an invisible hat at me. Everyone mumbled various agreements and went to position. I looked back at my bandmates as they shifted, adjusted, and got comfortable. My eyes went to Tate, and they lingered on the kit he was sitting behind. Oh, how I missed being there.
I sighed and turned around. Singing was still great, I supposed. It was fun to do something different. I got to move and really interact with the audience. Plus, I was now the one in the center of all our photos. I was the highlight, the main feature, I was the one whose name listeners would remember.
My friends started teasing their instruments, waiting to hear some direction from me. I turned my head towards each of them individually and motioned with my hand to play the current set list we’d been using for shows. Without missing a beat, the second I turned back to face my dad they started up.
An audience of one was just as important as an audience of thousands. In my head, we dimmed the lights, stepped on a platform, and my dad’s face multiplied and morphed into a full house of guests, all waiting to hear us do what we did best. Play.
We went through our set, and I brought my A-game. While my dad and the rest of our extended family had already seen The Homewreckers in action, that had been a real paid gig. It was our first one as this group of members. There was no way anyone would critique that show. That was all off the table today. My dad had come to watch us with the intent to nitpick and see how to make us better.
He used to do this before when we were Hip Friction and Vagabond Babies. While it hadn’t bothered me that much, I now saw things through my twin brother’s eyes. Our dad was a lot harsher to his oldest son than he was with his only daughter. That didn’t seem fair.
When we finished, I don’t think anyone was surprised to see him stand up, clap rather dryly and then saunter over to us. He then began discussing our weak points. While I did listen and take note of his advice for me, I didn’t take his criticism to heart. But I knew Dallas would.When he got to Tate, he actually complimented him.
“I heard the cover of Tierney’s song. You’ve got a good voice. Why don’t you use it more?”
My face went red with mortification, but the conversation moved so fast no one dwelled on the news that my dad had in fact heard my sex noises. Tate looked up at him in surprise and stood to shake his hand.
“I don’t know what you mean. Jimmy’s great as our lead vocals.”
My dad opened his mouth but then shut it quickly, causing me to blink with surprise. Was he taking Tate’s opinion seriously? This was surprising, to everyone. He simply nodded and moved on to critique my brother on his feet work.
We took his advice and tried again, this time he had less to suggest for us and we left the room happy and relieved to have passed, for now.
That night, after everyone had left, I was going around shutting off all the lights in the apartment and paused in the rehearsal room. I went over to my drum kit. I ran my fingers over the cymbals, sighing. It had been way too long since I sat behind my drums and played just for fun.
I debated it and decided that a few minutes wouldn’t hurt anybody. I scurried behind them and plopped down, reaching for Tate’s breakables bag. It was empty except for his sticks. I grabbed them out and straightened my body. Closing my eyes, I put the sticks to the middle and high Tom and started tapping them softly.
It took everything in me to play softly. Tate had just put Cara down for bed. She was finally sleeping for longer periods of time, so he’d murder me if I woke her. Hell, I’d murder me. She had pipes on her. I was surprised she hadn’t deafened us yet with her screams.
A knock on the door frame caused me to turn my head and stop playing. Tate was grinning at me, resting with his arms up on both sides of the door.
