The fiddle notes finding me in the forest weren’t echoes, and Cedar and Rose’s choice of song wasn’t a coincidence. The music from the pines has carried all the way to Kellyville.
“Shady,” someone says on the other side of the stall door. Sarah. “You all right?”
I open the door after a few seconds and meet her soft brown eyes. We gaze at each other until tears fill my eyes again, and Sarah looks away. Sarah’s mom died when she was a toddler. She hasn’t said it outright, but I think she killed herself. But even though Sarah’s lost a parent too, she always seems embarrassed by my grief.
“Come on, I’ll buy you another coffee,” Sarah says, her voice gruff. “You’re missing all the music.” She reaches out uncertainly and takes my hand to pull me from the stall. Warmth spreads up my arm, and I automatically lace my fingers in hers. She doesn’t let go.
We leave the bathroom together and run straight into my stepdad. Jim looks down at us, surprise turning his dark, angular face slightly comical. Sarah drops my hand. She’s out to her dad and her friends, but she keeps it quiet around other people. And I sure as hell haven’t mentioned being bi to Mama or Jim.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I say. “Is Mama here?” I didn’t invite them.
Jim nods toward the stage. His son, Kenneth, is up there with a guitar singing “A Boy Named Sue,” by Johnny Cash, and really hamming it up. He’s sweating hard in the overhead lights, his fair skin turning pink from exertion.
“I didn’t know Kenneth played,” I say. “He’s pretty good.”
Jim nods again, like he can’t be bothered to praise his own kid. Kenneth lives with his mama and his stepdad and hardly ever sees Jim, which is fine by me. I can’t imagine having Kenneth hanging around on weekends. I’m just shocked Jim showed up for this, of all things.
Then I catch a glimpse of Jim’s brother, Frank, out of the corner of my eye, making his steady way toward us. He smiles at me and nods at Jim, whose face flushes a deep crimson. Frank looks like Jim, if Jim were about a hundred pounds heavier and sporting a graying beard. His nose looks like it’s been broken at least twice. But Frank’s the good brother, the one who took over their daddy’s business and made it strong, who got married and stayed married, who gave his little brother a job whether he deserved it or not. He’s got plans to run for city council next year, which is making Jim even more bitter toward him than usual.
“I’ll see you at home,” Jim says to me, striding back toward Frank, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides as he goes.
“A real conversationalist,” Sarah mutters. She hurries toward the coffee bar, her hands buried in her pockets.
“Better than Kenneth, who never shuts up,” I say, trying to act normal, like I don’t want to grab Sarah’s hand again and never let go. Like my stepdad’s not making his way toward his older brother with hatred in his eyes. Like I’m not being haunted by my father’s music.
There’s a long line, but we finally get our drinks and head back to Orlando and Jesse, who are cringing at the terrible folk singer who just started. They both look up in relief. Orlando’s been my best friend for three years, but he’s still never learned how to have a conversation with my brother. The only thing they have in common is me.
“You guys were great, but I’m gonna take off,” Jesse says, “if that’s all right.” His voice is gentler than usual, his eyes still worried, expectant.
“Thanks. Did you come with Jim? Do you need a ride?” I ask.
“Shit, Jim’s here?” Jesse says, darting looks at every corner.
“Yeah. So?”
“Frank thought I was stoned today and gave me a twenty-minute lecture. Then he made one of the workers drive me home,” he says, ducking down into his chair. Jesse’s been working for Frank part-time since he turned sixteen. Daddy used to work for the same company a long time ago when he and Jim first became friends, when Jim’s father was still alive and running the company.
“Were you stoned?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Jesse shrugs.
Kenneth bursts through the wall of people, and I can see at a glance that he most definitely is stoned. “Jesse,” he yells, so loud people turn to look.
“Shit,” Jesse says again.
Kenneth is bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Thanks again, man, for . . . well, you know. I don’t think I could have gotten through that without it.”
Sarah, Orlando, and I swivel in one motion to gape at Jesse. “Tell me you didn’t,” I say. “What did you give him? Jim’s going to kill you.”
“My dad’s here?” Kenneth says. He’s talking so loud.
“Shut up, man,” Jesse says. “Keep it down.”
“I bet Uncle Frank guilted him into coming,” Kenneth says. “He’s here somewhere.”
So that explains it. Frank is always nagging Jim about how he’s not a good enough dad to Kenneth. I’m glad Frank made him come this time. No matter how much I dislike my stepbrother, I don’t like to see Jim hurt his feelings.
“No way, Jim told me he was excited to see you play,” I lie. “He said you’re really good.”
But Kenneth’s mind has already jumped to something else. “Shady, you want to dance?” he says, yanking me from my chair. His hand is sweaty and I pull away from him, stumbling into Orlando’s lap.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Kenneth says, eyeing Orlando. “Or is it her?” he adds when Sarah glares at him. His eyes are glassy and strange.
I glance at Sarah, and Kenneth’s eyes go ludicrously wide. He lets out a giggle. “Jesus, Shady, are you a lesb—”
Jesse gives Kenneth a warning push before he can finish the question. Jesse barely touched him, but Kenneth is so stoned he stumbles over a chair, falling on his ass.
“Sorry, man,” Jesse says, starting to offer Kenneth a hand back up. “You need to watch how you talk to my sister.” But Kenneth’s already up and swinging like a drunken windmill. He misses Jesse’s face and staggers, off-kilter. Guess he inherited Jim’s temper, or maybe it’s just the drugs.
“You’re out of it. Go home,” Jesse says, pushing Kenneth away again. “Go find your old man.” But Kenneth grabs his arm, and Jesse’s starting to look pissed. I know that look, and I try to step between them, but then Kenneth leans right up in Jesse’s face. He says something I can’t hear over the music and laughs. Jesse’s expression changes from anger to rage as fast as I can blink, and then he grabs Kenneth by the front of his shirt and pushes him backward until Kenneth trips and falls, smacking his head on the concrete floor. Jesse doesn’t care. He drops to one knee and drives his fist into Kenneth’s face.
“Jesse!” I scream, racing to pull him off Kenneth, but he’s strong from all those afternoons and weekends working construction with Jim. He raises his fist again. I pull his other arm as hard as I can, but it’s not doing any good. People are beginning to turn their attention from the musicians onstage to the fight, but no one jumps in to stop it. I’m about to yell for help when someone else steps up beside me and yanks Jesse’s other arm. Together, we manage to haul him off Kenneth, who’s pouring blood from both lip and nose. One eye is already starting to swell closed. But he manages to sit up, so at least he’s not unconscious.