“That would be great…if I was an author. I’m in a band.”
She sighed theatrically. “I know, Declan, but—”
“But what?” I finished irritably as I reached for the remote control.
“I wish you’d put an expiration date on this venture. By all means, go ride around on your bus, singing songs, but I want you to seriously consider working for me in March.”
I slapped my palm against my forehead and groaned. “Mom, I’m gonna hang up now. I’ll be out of town till mid-February. If you need to get a hold of me, you should probably text.”
“All right. Have fun on your trip.”
“It’s not a trip. It’s work and—”
“I’m sure it is, but—oh! I have to run. The grandbabies are here. I love you. Break a leg!”
The sound of cheerful squealing rang in the background before she hung up. I stared into space for a minute or two, feeling very…alone. I didn’t want to slip into teenage levels of self-pity. There was really nothing lamer than a privileged grown-ass adult whining about mommy issues. After hours of flipping through television channels, I settled on a special about great white sharks. Then I tossed the controller aside and picked up my cell again.
Would you ever swim with sharks?
My phone buzzed immediately. I smiled when Tegan’s name lit the screen. Are you high?
I wish. Swimming with sharks is a thing. People get in cages and film themselves being surrounded by predators…for fun.
People are fucking crazy.
True.
What are you watching?
National Geographic. I was hoping for a sex in the wild segment, but I got sharks instead.
Shark sex?
I grinned. Nope. I don’t think I’m ready for that.
It’s not exciting. Fish sex is seriously unhot.
True.
My chuckle morphed into a belly laugh as I sank deeper into the cushion. I shared a quick story about the saucy squirrels who were getting it on outside my window last spring. Tegan teased me for being a rodent voyeur, then recommended a few human porn sites I might appreciate instead.
Btw, it’s officially midnight. Congrats.
I stared at the screen for a moment. I typed and erased two or three thank-yous that seemed a little too effusive. I didn’t want to come across as too excited or too grateful and somehow clingy, so I gave up and pressed Call.
“Hey.”
“Are you really fucking calling me?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I am. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But it’s midnight, and I hate talking on the phone, so good ni—”
“Don’t hang up.”
“What’s wrong?”
I stared at the TV unseeing. “Nothing. I just…I’m keyed up and I need someone to talk to.”
“Call one of your other friends. I hate talking on the phone.”
“I don’t have other friends. At least not the kind who’ll pick up their phones at midnight.”
“How is that possible? You were one of the popular kids.”
“Ha. Not really.”
Tegan released a faux-grumpy sigh. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“What was your first release like? I know Zero’s record is still doing well. But…what was it like in the beginning? How’d you feel?”
“You want the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“It was anticlimactic.”
“Oh. That’s kind of depressing.”
“No, it’s just life. Nothing ever happens as fast as you want it to. You’ve got to be patient and keep doing your thing,” he advised. “We came home from our summer tour thinking we made it. We didn’t turn into superstars, but we made progress. And every day it gets better. But who knows what will happen? Maybe you’ll wake up at number one. Just stay positive and…stop torturing yourself.”
I smiled when his uplifting advice gave way to exasperation. It was cute.
“It’s what I do. I excel at the art of self-sabotage. Ask my mom. If I bomb, you can be sure she’ll be the first one to say ‘I told you so.’ She’ll choose her words carefully, though. She’ll be kind-ish before she gently suggests that it’s time to throw in the towel. Fuck my life.”
“But it’s your life. The honor of making mistakes or kicking ass is all yours. You wrote those songs to be heard. Not everyone will love what you do, but plenty of people will. You just gotta be right in your own head. Ask yourself if you gave your best. Did you?”
“Of course.”
“You’ll do just fine, then. If you sell a million copies, great. If not, you’ll still learn something.”
Silence.
“Thanks. I needed that,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep.”
“I’m an almost rock star, and it’s midnight. My night is just beginning,” I lied, stifling a yawn.
“Have fun, rock god,” he singsonged.
“I’m kidding. I’m channel-surfing.”
“You mean porn surfing?”
I barked a quick laugh. “No, I get my porn on the internet like everyone else. I was watching that show about hoarders. It made me feel better somehow.”
“You’re a freak. Get your computer and jack off. You’ll feel better, and you’ll sleep better,” he advised sagely.
“Thanks, Dr. Monroe. I’ll report back in the morning.”