He gives me no sign. Two hours it is.
“Call us if there’s any issues.” Bodhi and my mom trade glances.
“We’ll be fine,” she assures him.
Bodhi follows me out front where John opens the SUV’s back door. “I’ve never been driven like this before. Or in a fancy SUV for that matter.”
I kick the tire to the Land Rover. “This old thing doesn’t have anything on Alice.”
He grins while nodding at John as I scoot across the backseat.
“Does the surprise involve anything illegal?”
“Illegal. Forbidden. Taboo. Basically, you’re asking if the surprise is fun.” I grab his hand and squeeze it. “To the main house, please, John.”
John nods and puts the Land Rover in drive.
Bodhi tosses me a narrow-eyed glance, lips twisted to the side. He’s dying to say something, but it must not be appropriate for John’s ears. Within a few minutes, we’ve pulled in front of the main house.
“Thank you, John.”
“Thanks,” Bodhi echoes me as we hop out.
“We’re going to have sex in your parents’ bed, aren’t we?”
I snort a laugh. “That wasn’t the plan. But clearly it’s on your mind, even after what happened…” I glance at my watch “…less than an hour ago.” I open the front door.
Bodhi’s gaze sweeps the grand two-story entry. “Such a different world,” he mutters.
“Same world. Bigger house. More is just more. It’s not better. It’s not anything to envy, unless you’re comparing a single-serving bag of chips to a large bag of chips. Then more is obviously better.”
“Damn, I love you.” Bodhi follows me down the hallway by the kitchen.
I grin even though he can’t see it. He’s going to love me harder in about ten seconds.
“The basement? Their bedroom is in the basement?”
I lead him down the stairs as motion-sensor lights illuminate our path. “Still thinking about more sex, huh?”
“Always.” He tugs on my ponytail. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows leap up to his forehead as his jaw falls to the ground.
“You can’t be shocked that the owner of a record label has a recording studio in his basement.”
Bodhi’s head inches side to side a few times. Then he nods just as slowly. “I probably shouldn’t be, but I am.” He walks to the glass door of the soundproof room and opens it.
I follow him, feeling like I’m watching a young child on Christmas morning. He inspects the row of guitars, the keyboard, the photos of all the famous musicians who have been in this basement. Then … he takes a seat at the drums.
“Make it a good one, Malone.” I grin.
He caresses the drumsticks much like his hands have touched my body so many times. I might even be a little jealous of them at the moment. His foot starts the slow, deep rhythm of the base drum like a heartbeat. I slide onto the bench by the keyboard and watch his sticks hit the toms, the snare drum, the crash of the cymbals. It builds until his whole body moves in sync, each part effortlessly doing its thing.
Bodhi’s head bobs, eyes closed. He never misses a beat. By the time he flies through the finale and sets the sticks down with such reverence, it takes me a few moments to find a single word. They’re not the words I ever imagined saying, and maybe they’re even a bit too raw and honest.
I say them anyway, in a whisper to myself that he can hear. “You were a rock star, and you fucked it up.”
Reality pulls at his brow as he returns a single nod. “I was a rock star, and I fucked it up. I had a fully functional father and I fucked him up. I had dreams, and I fucked them up. Does that make me a fuckup?”
Making my way across the room, I straddle his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his cheek, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. “It makes you human.”
“Human,” he whispers.
“Bodhi, you’re a guidance counselor. How does one go from owning the stage to counseling kids and fixing schedules?” I grin. “Was your Plan B really what you’re doing now? Did you think, I want to be a rock star OR a guidance counselor?”
He grabs my ass and pulls me closer so I don’t fall off his lap. Burying his nose in my hair, he exhales, pressing his lips to my neck. “My mom told me to make a difference. She told me my greatness didn’t die when we fell down the stairs. I was a drug addict in high school. I even asked for help once from my guidance counselor. She said she would get me some help, but then she went into labor, and I never got that help. Never asked the substitute counselor. I just … got drunk and high with my bandmates.”
“So you chose to become a guidance counselor because you’re a guy and you’ll never take maternity leave?”
His laughter vibrates against my skin. “God, I love you. You get me. You just … get me.” After a few minutes of us just being us, Bodhi lifts his head, bringing us face to face. “Thank you for this. I haven’t played in years.”
“You’re welcome.” I return the same affectionate smile as though I’d been planning this surprise for a long time, instead of the truth which is I needed a distraction so Juni and Barrett could talk in private.
Gah! I wonder what he’s saying to her? She’ll tell me. We’re best friends. She has to tell me.
“Let’s make a song together. Jump on the keyboard or play something on a guitar, and I’ll join you.”
Poor guy. He has no clue.
“I don’t play.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I mean, I don’t play.”
“Just do something simple like Chopsticks.”
“Can’t. I’ve never played Chopsticks.”
“How the hell is that possible?” His head cants to the side. “You always have music playing. You live with earbuds in your ears.”
“I love music, but it’s not my art.”
“Henna, your dad was a drummer. Your parents conceived you at a music festival. This makes no sense.”
Another shrug. “You know the saying: Those who can, do. Those who can’t, don’t.”
Bodhi chuckles. “Yeah, that’s the saying.”
“Besides, even if I could master Chopsticks, it would be ridiculous. Like … me asking you to create a sketch with me and you saying you can’t. I wouldn’t tell you to draw a few stick figures. No. Just … no.”
“It’s a foundation. I can build on it.” He lifts me off his lap and pulls me to the keyboard. “Two fingers. Start here. I know you have rhythm.” Bodhi stands behind me, grabbing my index fingers and moving them along the keys to play Chopsticks. After a few times through, it’s like riding a bike. He releases my fingers, and I play it on my own. “Keep going.”
He runs over to the drum set and adds a beat and some more rhythm. Bodhi makes Chopsticks sound crazy cool. I can’t stop grinning as we stare at each other to the rock version of Chopsticks.
Bodhi mouths I love you.
And of course … I die.
*
After a solid two hours of playing in the recording studio, John drives us back to Bodhi’s house. Juni and Barrett are all smiles. It makes me uneasy. Bodhi just thinks our parents hit it off really well. Since Bodhi needs to give Barrett a bath, I ride home with my mom, waiting until we’re at the dining room table to ask the question.
“So, what did he need to talk to you about?”
Fiona sets down two salads in front of us.
Juni smiles and thanks her before giving me her full attention. “He wanted to personally thank me for what I’ve done. And for raising such a loving daughter.” She takes a bite of her salad.
“And?”
Wiping her mouth with a white cloth napkin, she mumbles, “And what?”
“You didn’t need to fly home and have privacy for Barrett to thank you. That’s an email or a quick phone conversation. What aren’t you telling me? There has to be more.”
“You know, I feel like you don’t understand the definition of private.”
My eyes widen. “I feel like you don’t understand the definition of best friends. There’s only one definition for best friends: two people who tell each other everything. Go ahead, check Merriam-Webster.”
Juni grins, sipping her red wine. “All I can say is that if Bodhi adores you even half as much as Barrett, then you are a lucky girl.”
I’m turning a blind eye to a man getting ready to end his life. Being adored by him is not such a great thing for my heart or my conscience.
“Bodhi played the drums for me. He’s so good.”
“Good as in Zach needs to hear him?”
My lips roll between my teeth as I shake my head. “Yes, that good. But he’s a drummer, not really a singer so much. And I’m not sure finding him a band is a good idea or even what he wants in life at this point.” I shrug. “It’s weird. I don’t know what he wants in life. I’m not sure he knows or has even given himself a chance to think beyond his life at this moment. And maybe that’s okay. Ya know? It’s what makes his love for me so special.”
I pause a moment, as I always have to do when I think of us. “Bodhi doesn’t have a clue how I fit into his life. He doesn’t think he has anything to offer me. Just him. Just his love. Holding hands on the sofa while we watch Barrett sleep. Horseback rides. Sunday drives in Alice.”