“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“You want to come over and jam with the band?” Ryan asked. “The guys are coming over in a half hour or so.”
“Can’t,” I said. “My dad’s gonna be home for dinner.”
The rest went withoutsaying. My dad was kind of a jerk—if he was going to grace us with his presence at dinner, then we all had to be there. No exceptions. Besides, if he got wind of the fact that I was using my precious free time to play guitar with Ryan’s band, he’d totally lose it. If it wasn’t football, schoolwork, or some other activity that would make the higher ups at Yale take notice—it wasn’t worth my time.
“Maybe this weekend,” Ryan said.
I threw my dirty clothes into a laundry bin. “Yeah, maybe.”
Probably not.
“I need you to listen to our new stuff,” Ryan said, following me out of the locker toward the parking lot. He smacked my arm making me wince. No part of my body didn’t ache today. “Hey, did I tell you the news? We scored a gig at The Tailgate.”
I stopped to face him. The Tailgate was an all ages club two towns over, and every band in the state wanted to get a spot in their lineup. “Seriously? That’s awesome, dude.”
He ducked his head. “Yeah, well. Tony’s brother knew a guy…” Tony was the drummer, but even if he had connections, I highly doubted that would be enough to earn a coveted place in the lineup. The band was good, but Ryan was great. He wrote all the songs and was the singer and frontman, as well as the lead guitarist.
“Congratulations, man. You deserve it.”
He shot me a little smirk. “I do, don’t I?”
I shook my head. My best friend was a moron.
“You’re going to come, right?” he asked. “It’s in a few weeks.”
“Of course,” I said.If my dad lets me.That part was unspoken but understood.
I dropped Ryan off at his house and then headed home, walking in just in time to hear the tail end of my dad’s call with one of his staff. My little sister Chrissy was perched on a stool at the kitchen counter and she gave me a smile and a wave when I walked in. Chrissy was twelve and a good kid. Super sweet but a little too sensitive—especially for this household. I tried to shield her from the worst of it, but my parents had what some might call a ‘toxic’ relationship. I wasn’t sure why they were even still together, but I assumed it had to do with keeping up appearances. That was all that ever seemed to matter to both of them. In fact, it sometimes seemed like that was the only thing they had in common.
My mom was stirring something on the stove when I walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Set the table,” she whispered, so she wouldn’t disturb my dad’s call.
I dropped my bag near the kitchen door and moved past Chrissy to get out the silverware. The moment my dad ended his call, he turned to face me. “Good, you’re home. Now we can eat.”
Nohelloorhow was your day, son? No one had time forniceties in this household.
“Elaine, is the food ready?” he asked.
“Almost,” my mom said.
“Why isn’t the table set?” He glared over at me and Chrissy, like this was an actual problem.
I held up the silverware. “Working on it.”
“It would have been done by now if you’d come right home,” he said, his tan, weathered face growing redder by the second as he worked himself up over nothing. Everyone said I was the spitting image of him, with my dark hair and tall build, but I sure as heck hoped that was where the similarities ended. “You were hanging out with your buddies, weren’t you?”
Seriously, one would think ‘hanging out with buddies’ was some sort of criminal offense from the way he acted.
“Jack, leave the boy alone,” my mother said, her voice mild and the words coming out by rote. This whole scene was basically performed on autopilot by all of us. We each had our roles to play in this family and none of us ever missed our cue.
“I’ll get the water glasses,” Chrissy said, right on time. My little sister was forever trying to please my parents.
I supposed I was, too, but as the eldest it wasn’t always so easy. Nothing I did was ever good enough, especially for my father. I couldn’t even come home from practice the way he wanted.
“Just don’t be late on Thursday,” my father continued. “We’ve got a dinner at the Falconers house and they expect the whole family.”
I stopped in the middle of placing a fork at my father’s spot at the head of the table. The Falconers were the biggest donors to my father’s re-election campaign, which meant they werevery important peoplein my father’s eyes. My dad was the mayor of this town and the upcoming election was the center of his universe. From the way he talked, one would think he was running for president and not for re-election as mayor of our little town. Technically, we were a small city, but no one in his right mind would consider this a thriving metropolis, more like an oversized suburb.
