Midlife Do Over

I let out a sharp bark of laughter at our familiar banter. “You wish you were as hot as me. Maybe after your balls drop, you’ll come close.” Roman flipped me off, as he always did, and then handed me a beer.

“What are your plans now that the tour is over?”

Good question. I hadn’t told either of my brothers about my new investment. “Carson Creek. Maybe a few changes to my house, writing for the next album, and keeping a close eye on my new investment.”

Roman’s blue eyes widened. “A new investment and you didn’t consult me? Or Derek?” He let out a low whistle. “I think I’m offended.”

“Don’t be. It’s a restaurant, not your thing.”

“Not my thing? This coming from the guy who lives on peanut butter and jelly rather than trying carpaccio or kale.” He shook his head, slapping his knee as he was overcome with laughter. “Not my jam, but if any one of us could make it work, it’s you.” I gave him a don’t bullshit a bullshitter look and Roman chuckled. “I mean it. You’re so serious and those lyrics that have sustained us all these years, they come from a deep thinker. Not shallow pricks like me and Derek.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I knew my baby brother better than I knew anyone else in the world. I’d taken care of him when our Mama died weeks after giving birth to him. Changed his dirty diapers, taught him how to walk and how to charm a woman. And yeah, he was definitely up to something.

“All right, drop the shit, Ro and tell me what you want.”

A loud guffaw of a laugh erupted from his rangy frame, tugging a reluctant smile across my own face. “Me? Your baby brother, and I can’t even compliment you at the end of the longest tour known to mankind without suspicion? Now I know I’m offended.”

I rolled my eyes because Roman wasn’t a cruel man, but he wasn’t a serious man either. “What do you want, Ro?”

He sighed and stared at the packed backstage area, his eyes landing on everyone but not really seeing anyone in particular. “I want to do a solo album.” He let the words hang in the air for a long time, like he was waiting for me to explode or talk him out of it. I kept silent. “I don’t want to leave the band, but I want to do more. Our next album isn’t due for a year, what the hell am I supposed to do with all that free time aside from get myself into trouble?” He laughed. “You think I’m an asshole?”

“Nah.” I shook my head and turned to look at my brother, really look at him. “I think you know that you don’t do well with a lot of downtime and if you want a career away from us, you should go for it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. As you love to remind me, you’re young with a lot of life ahead of you. You tell Derek your plans yet?”

His blue eyes, identical to mine and Derek’s, and our older sister Lacey, widened almost comically. “You kidding? I want to enjoy this last night of the tour, possibly my life. I’m telling you because,” he sighed again and turned to me.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Roman.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you wrote some songs for me. For my voice.” He flashed a smug smile at my surprised expression. “See? I was being totally genuine with my compliments.”

I couldn’t deny that Roman’s words floored me. Not that I lacked confidence in my ability as a songwriter, just that, I guess I never let myself think too hard about what my brothers thought of my skills. “Me?”

“Hell yeah,” he nodded and took another swig from his beer. “Who else?”

“Literally anyone else. Nashville is filled with songwriters looking for their big break.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have the depth that you do, and they don’t know my voice better than the man who taught me to sing and play the drums.” He looked at me, hope and expectation darkening his blue eyes. “What do you think?”

I didn’t know what to think, but the truth was I could use all the distractions I could get over the next few months, and Roman was my baby brother, practically a son to me. “Ask me again in a week after I’ve had time to relax and unwind, you know, after the longest tour known to mankind.”

His face pulled into a wide, satisfied grin. “Thanks, Ry.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“No, but you didn’t say no, and we both know that means you’re halfway to yes.”

“We’ll see.” He was right, but he was too smug for his own good, and it was good for him to wait, to sweat it out before getting the answer he wanted to hear.